"From crag to crag descending--swiftly sped
Stern Conrad down, nor once he turned his head;
He bounds, he flies, until his footsteps reach
The verge where ends the cliff, begins the beach."
_The Corsair._
"Dark was the flow of Oscar's hair,
But Allan's locks were bright and fair."
_Oscar of Alva._
"But who is he, whose darken'd brow
Glooms in the midst of general mirth?"
_Ibid._
When the hawk, which had been so skilfully struck by the arrow of Kate
Bellamont, flapped himself, in his violent death-throes, over the edge
of the cliff, a gallant young fisher's lad, seeing him lodge in the
topmost branches of a blasted tree twenty feet below, fearlessly flung
himself off the precipice, and lighted, by the aid of a limb, on a
projecting rock within twelve feet of him. The cliff at this place was
one hundred and forty feet in height, and, except where its surface was
opened by narrow crevices, in which a few shrubs and dwarf cedars found
precarious roothold, or where a fragment, hurled from its seat by the
lightning, or fallen through age into the sea, left a narrow shelf, it
presented to the passing boatman on the bay below a naked and gigantic
wall, of nearly perpendicular ascent and inaccessible to human foot:
indeed, from a midway brow seventy feet from the base, it receded,
leaving a sheer descent of that space from the water, which lay black,
still, and of profound depth beneath. Near the top of the cliff grew a
scathed cedar, clinging with its hardy roots into a cleft in its face,
and leaning threateningly over the flood. Its top reached within twenty
feet of the summit of the precipice; but, inclining at an angle away
from it, stood full seven feet out from its side. It was the ragged arms
of this tree which caught the hawk in his descent, and where, with
fierce cries of rage and pain, he struggled to free himself from the
fatal shaft, but which he drove deeper and deeper into his side with
every beat of his strong wing.
The young man paused after lighting upon the first landing-place, and
measured with a cool glance the dizzy descent; and then fixed his gaze
on the bird, whose blood-red eyes flashed forth vindictive fire as they
met his, with a resolute look that conveyed a determination to capture
him at whatever risk. The pliant limb of a tree growing on the summit,
by which he had let himself down to the place where he stood, had, on
being released, sprung back to its natural position far beyond his
reach: the surface of rock, eight feet in height above him, was as even
as a wall of masonry; and an upward glance satisfied him that, without
assistance from those above, to reascend again would be impossible.
Quietly smiling at the difficulty in which he had involved himself, the
fearless lad placed his eyes again on the hawk with the confident and
resolute, and almost stern, expression they had before borne, and began
to examine narrowly his position, and to look about for some safe way of
descending to a perilous spur, the breadth of a man's two hands, which,
on peering down, he discovered projecting from the side of the rock on a
level with the top of the tree. Whether governed solely by that pride of
spirit which is found in most youths of high-toned feelings, he
internally resolved to accomplish what he had thoughtlessly undertaken;
whether actuated by the spirit of adventure, or whether fascinated by
the beauty of Kate Bellamont, he wished to preserve the proud bird as a
trophy of her skill; whether one or all of these motives influenced the
daring fisher's lad, remains to be unfolded.
The spot on which he stood was the projecting edge of the second stratum
of rock, twenty inches wide, running irregularly along the face of the
precipice, and appeared to have been formed by the falling away of large
chips or flakes from the upper and softer stratum. From this rim there
ran a zigzag crevice, an inch wide, obliquely downward along the rock to
the shelf below, on which grew a handful of long grass and two or three
slender shrubs. On a level with it was the top of the tree; underneath,
thirty feet below, were visible its gnarled roots clinging to a mere lip
of the rock, yet vigorously inserting themselves in the neighbouring
crevices; farther down, on the edge of the brow where the cliff began to
incline inward, was visible yet one more foothold, scarcely a palm in
breadth; below that, the shrinking eye measured a dizzy vacancy till it
fell upon the still, pool-like bay beneath.
The youth surveyed these features of the dangerous precipice with a
steady eye; and having coolly calculated his chance of accomplishing
safely the descent of the twelve feet below him, sat down with his legs
hanging over, and deliberately drew off his stout fisher's boots and
hung them on a twig beside him. Then turning round, he carefully slid
off and suspended his body an instant by his right hand, till he had
firmly inserted the tip of one foot and the fingers of the other hand in
the zigzag crevice. Releasing his right hand from its grasp on the
shelf, he then carried it below the left, and having got a firm hold of
the edge of the fissure, let go with the left and passed it in its turn
under the right: he changed the position of his feet in the same manner
so long as he could obtain, which was not always the case, a
resting-place for his toes; and in this way, with cool self-possession
and undaunted nerve, which even the wild cries and beating wings of the
bird could not move, he succeeded in safely reaching the small
projecting leaf, and stood on a level with the top of the tree. The
falcon was now within seven feet of him horizontally; but he seemed as
far from the attainment of his object as before. It was impossible to
spring into the tree, even if its roots should not be torn from their
rocky bed by the force of the leap and his weight. But the young
fisherman possessed a temper that never yielded to obstacles, and seemed
to be governed by a spirit that scorned defeat. Stretching himself out
upon the shelf, which was just broad enough to contain his body lying
sideways to the face of the rock, he looked down, and saw within reach
of his arm a stout root, the strength of which he tested; and below
this, within reach of his feet if he should swing himself off, was a
sharp projection scarce the size of his foot; and a few inches below
that, a stout limb of the tree rested against the precipice. His eye
embraced at once these advantages, and he did not hesitate to avail
himself of them.
Lightly, but yet with care, he committed his weight to the root, and,
hanging at the full length of his arm, reached, after three unsuccessful
trials, the spur below with the tip end of one of his toes. This, to one
like him, was a sufficient hold to authorize him to release his grasp
above. Lying, like a fly upon a wall, close against the side of the
rock, he now fearlessly yet cautiously let go his hold, and stood with
one foot on the projection, with no other support but his muscular
adhesion to the wide wall of the precipice. This was a situation
attended with the most imminent peril; and by the firmly-closed lips and
the almost stern expression of his eyes, it was clear that he was fully
conscious of his dangerous position. But there was no shrinking, no
pallor, no sign of fear! He was equal to the danger he had braved; and,
as this increased, the powers of his mind and body seemed to expand to
compass it.
The branch of the tree was within a few inches of the point on which his
foot rested. Slowly and cautiously he dropped his unsupported leg, while
he pressed his cheek and shoulder close against the side of the cliff;
for he knew that the slightest deviation from the equilibrium would be
fatal. His foot at length touched the horizontal limb, which was the
thickness of a man's arm where it met the rock. He repeatedly pressed
upon it, each successive time harder and heavier, until he found that it
would bear his whole weight. Then directing his hand carefully downward
towards his feet, he placed it on the point of rock, removing his foot
at the same instant to make room for it, and stood upright and with
confidence on the limb.
Satisfied that the branch, which, turned back by the cliff, had forced
the tree to lean over the water, would safely sustain him, he now
glanced down to the foot of the tree, and began to inspect the hold of
the trunk upon the shelf from which it grew. The examination afforded
him no very great assurance; nevertheless, he determined to test its
strength by advancing out on the limb, though aware that, if it should
yield to his weight, he would be hurled with it into the sea. Even this
reflection did not present any weighty objection to his making the
trial; for with a fearless recklessness, for which there is no
sufficient term in language, he half anticipated the possibility of such
a catastrophe, and caught himself calculating the chances in favour of
his taking in safety a flight into the deep pool beneath. Letting go his
grasp on the point of rock, he now settled himself astride the branch,
and made gradual approaches towards the trunk. It remained firm as the
rock in which it was imbedded, and scarcely gave signs of feeling his
weight till he touched the body, when the top slightly vibrated. He
paused; but, finding it still remain fast, rose to his feet and clasped
the scathed trunk, at first lightly, and then more firmly; and at last,
gaining confidence, he shook it till the hawk fluttered anew in its
perch. Assured of its security, his lips unclosed, and his eyes lost
their severity, and with a smile of success he cast them triumphantly
upward, where, but a few feet above him, entangled by the long shaft of
the arrow and his broken wing, he saw the falcon secured in the crotch
formed by a fork of three stumps of limbs (all that decay had left) that
terminated its summit.
Without hesitation he began to climb the trunk, which, save the limb by
which he had reached it, and the branches crowning it, was bare from its
roots upward. This was the least difficult part of his hazardous
enterprise, and he soon got within reach of the bird, and stretched one
arm forth to seize him by the wing. But the fierce animal, who had for a
few moments ceased his struggles to watch, with a quick and guarded
glance, the movements of the young fisherman, no sooner saw this hostile
demonstration on the part of his human foe, than, with an intelligence
supernaturally called forth by existing suffering and anticipated
danger, he struck at him fiercely with his sharp, glittering talons;
while, stretching downward his head to the full extent of his neck, he
uttered long, wild cries of mingled fear and menace. Nothing daunted by
what, in itself, was sufficiently appalling, the young man coolly
watched his opportunity, and, at the expense of several severe wounds in
the wrist from his talons, caught the hawk by the throat. Clinging round
a limb with the disengaged arm, he raised himself higher in the tree,
and lifting his prize, which still struck at him with his armed feet, he
skilfully extricated the wing and arrow from the crotch: the next
instant, with the huge, fluttering bird in his hand, he had slidden down
the trunk, and was standing on the transverse limb with a flushed brow,
and a triumphant look illuminating his handsome and fearless
countenance.
With one arm bent around the tree, and the other holding the hawk at
full length, he now began to cast his eyes upward. They travelled over
the bare surface, scarcely without lighting upon a resting-place for a
squirrel; and he began, for the first time, to question the possibility
of reascending; it having been comparatively easy for him to let his
body down by the crevice, as he had descended, while it would be
impracticable for him to lift its whole weight up again by the mere
effort of the fingers. A glance demonstrated this to him at once. But
time was not given him to reflect on a plan for surmounting a difficulty
which, in reality, was insurmountable, his faculties being at once
called into action to save himself from being thrown from this dizzy
perch by the struggles of the hawk. This ferocious creature had been
wounded by the arrow in the side just beneath the wing, which was broken
by the fall to the earth, and, thence passing upward, the barb had come
out through his back, without touching any vital part. His strength was,
therefore, through pain, rather augmented than diminished; and
notwithstanding the manual pressure upon his windpipe, he now began to
battle fiercely with his captor, fighting both with his claws and
remaining wing. Though holding him out at arm's length, the young man
was unable wholly to defend himself from the strong blows of the wing,
which was three feet in length, with which he violently assailed him
about the head, while with his talons he succeeded in striking his
person and inflicting a deep wound in his breast. He for a time coolly
bore the heavy sweeps of the wing, hoping he would soon tire; but he
forgot that his terrible antagonist was "the bird of tireless wing;"
and, at length, finding his own strength beginning to fail, though his
spirit was unsubdued, he loosened his hold from the trunk of the tree
which his arm had hitherto encircled, and, leaning his back against it,
watched his opportunity, and suddenly, with a firm grasp, seized the
wing as it was beating against his temples, and, by a sudden and skilful
turn of his wrist, dislocated it. This bold act nearly destroyed his
equilibrium; and, after its successful accomplishment, he just had time
to recover his hold on the tree to save himself from falling into the
dark wave below. For a moment afterward his heart throbbed tumultuously;
and reflecting on the imminent peril he had incurred by this necessary
exposure, he trembled with emotion and several times breathed heavily,
as if to relieve his breast of a weight of suffocating sensations--the
tribute which nature demanded of humanity.
Goaded to increased rage by the additional pain, and maddened at his
vain efforts to lift his useless wing, the eyes of the hawk glittered in
his head like a snake's, and, opening his red jaws, he thrust forth his
long, narrow tongue, and hissed at his captor like an angry serpent. It
was a moment that called for all the moral energy and physical nerve man
is capable of exercising in the hour of danger. The extraordinary young
fisherman evinced the possession of these qualities in a degree adequate
to the crisis which called them into action. With his eyes fixed
unflinchingly on the burning eyeballs of the hawk, and calmly
indifferent the while to the terrible hisses which came hot from his
throat and fell warm upon his face, he continued to keep him at bay so
that his talons should not reach his person, and put forth all his
strength to strangle him. There was a moral grandeur in the spectacle
this young fisher's lad presented, fearlessly perched on his fearful
eminence, as regardless of the depth below as if standing in his own
cottage door, battling at such odds with the fiercest warrior of the
air!
It was at this crisis that one of the fishermen, a very old man, whose
attention, with that of his companions, had been hitherto too much
occupied by the trial at archery to give a thought to the youth, after
having remained to see the prize awarded to the victress, turned to
leave the ground, when missing the young man, he recollected that he had
seen him follow the hawk to the verge of the cliff. Calling him by name
and not receiving any reply, he approached the precipice; but finding
that he was on the most perpendicular part of it, he cast only a hasty
glance down, and was about to turn away, supposing he had, unseen,
descended to the beach by the usual route a little farther to the north,
when a movement far below arrested his eyes. Looking steadily, he beheld
the youth with one arm clasped round the tree, and the other stretched
out, holding the bird by the neck, while all his moral and physical
energies were called into action to enable him to defend himself against
the talons of the savage creature.
A glance conveyed to the fisherman the whole extent of the danger; and,
after looking down upon him for a moment in speechless horror, his limbs
trembled with fear, and, giving utterance to a wild cry, he would have
fallen from the precipice had he not caught by a tree that hung over its
verge. Kate Bellamont was the first to reach the cliff on hearing the
alarm given by the old man; and, glancing down, she intuitively
comprehended the peril in which the youth had placed himself. With
wonderful presence of mind, waving her hand back to those advancing, she
said with energy,
"Hold! all of ye! Breathe not a word! He is in mortal danger! A shriek,
or a sign of fear among us may unnerve his bold spirit and be fatal to
him!"
Several of the young archeresses stopped suddenly, and turned pale at
this intimation of danger; while one or two, with more sensibility of
nerves, unable to control their fears, turned and fled towards the
castle, as if in the retirement of their closets they would shut out all
sense of the threatened evil. Young Lord Robert was the first by Kate
Bellamont's side.
"By Heaven! a bold peasant!" he said, his eyes sparkling with
admiration; "but--"
"Lester, this is no time for words," spoke the maiden, quickly.
"Something must be done for him. How could he have got there in safety!
Poor, rash youth!"
"Alas! my child, my lost, lost child!" cried the old fisherman, who was
seated on the ground shaking his head mournfully, turning his eyes away
from the trying scene. "God protect thee, lad, for no human aid will
avail thee!"
"Do not despair, good Dennis, he may yet be saved," said Kate,
encouragingly.
"Let go the bird!" shouted Lester.
The fisher's lad, whose attention had been called to the top of the
cliff by the shout of the old man, and who had watched the movements of
those above, smiled proudly at this request, and firmly shook his head
in the negative.
"He deserves to perish if he will peril his life for that bird," said
the young noble.
"Hush, Lester, he must be aided. Mark, drop the bird, or he will throw
you off. How could you be so foolish as to adventure your life for that
fierce hawk!"
"There is humble gallantry at the bottom of it, I dare swear," said
Lester, with a tone in which there was a slight shade of scorn.
"Perhaps there may be!" was the quiet reply of the maiden. "Mark, let
the bird go, I command you. If your life is sacrificed, I shall feel
that I am the cause of it."
"By the bow of Dan Cupid! I would change places with the serf to have my
situation create such an interest in your breast, fair lady." This was
spoken, partly with sincere feeling, partly with derision, by the
haughty Lester.
The full, dark gaze of Kate Bellamont encountered his; and with a manner
that eloquently conveyed the feeling of contempt that sprang up in her
heart, she said,
"Robert Lester must have fallen low in his own self-esteem to be jealous
of a fisher's lad!"
The young noble, with all his native haughtiness and pride of spirit,
possessed a generous nature, and was ever ready to atone for the wounds
which his wayward temper might have caused him unawares to inflict.
Especially was this the case where Kate Bellamont was the party
interested. With an instantaneous change peculiar to hasty spirits, he
sought pardon of the offended maiden with his eyes, and at once appeared
so different, that she saw that she could fully rely on him; plainly
reading in his face, with unerring feminine tact, that he nobly had
resolved to banish every feeling but the humane one the occasion
demanded.
"Lester, he will not release the bird for which he has perilled so
much," she said, with frank confidence in her tones, "and we must devise
some means to save both him and his prize. Haste to the castle, and get
a rope to save your comrade!" she cried to the remaining fisherman.
"I will save him with my life!" said the young noble. "How many bows
have we here?"
"A dozen," said Kate, at once comprehending the object of his inquiry.
"But are they strong enough, Robert?"
"To bear the weight of three men. Aid me, Kate, in making a chain of
them."
In a few seconds they had prepared a rope or chain nearly threescore
feet in length, of bows strung together, each link being five feet long.
Firmly securing one end to the top of the precipice by carrying it over
an upright limb, they successfully tested the strength of the whole by
extending it along the lawn, half a dozen drawing on it at once without
breaking it.
"This will do," he said with confidence, approaching the cliff to let it
down; but, to his surprise, he saw that the youth no longer retained the
bird, which, notwithstanding the command of the maiden, he had hitherto
seemed resolved, as Lester had hinted, to preserve, at the peril of his
life.
While these preparations had been making on the cliff, the hawk, not
being any longer able to reach the young fisher's body with his talons,
began to strike and lacerate his wrists. Finding at length that his
strength was unequal to the effort of strangulation (his intention
having been, if he could have killed him, to have lashed him to his
back, and so ascended with him), and satisfied that, while holding him
in his hand alive, he could not reascend, he reluctantly had been
compelled by a severe wound in the hand to let him go. In his fall the
bird struck heavily against the root of the tree, and, bounding off,
descended twenty feet lower, when the point of the arrow, which passed
through him like a spit, caught in a cleft and firmly held him on the
little shelf before described, which projected from the brow that
beetled over the sea at the height of seventy feet from it. The youth
watched him a few moments steadily, and saw that he moved neither wing
nor talon. He was dead!
When the intrepid lad saw him arrested in this manner, and that life was
now extinct, the cloud of regret that began to darken his face was all
at once chased away by a sunbeam of pleasure; for he discovered, as he
followed the bird's course with his eye, that the cleft in which he was
caught commenced at the very foot of the tree, and offered him the same
perilous facilities of descent that the zigzag one above had afforded.
When Lester looked over the cliff preparatory to letting down the chain
of bows, he beheld him, therefore, to his astonishment, in the act of
swinging himself from the horizontal limb, and the next moment clinging
about the trunk below it. Before either Kate or he could speak to warn
him, so sudden was their surprise, the daring youth had effected a
cautious and rapid descent of the tree, and was standing safely at its
roots: on casting their eyes farther below, they discerned, hanging over
the very verge of the brow, midway the precipice, the lifeless
ger-falcon, which instantly accounted to them for this new and
unexpected movement.
"His blood be upon his own head!" cried the maiden, shrinking from the
sight. "Lester, look! Is he not attempting to reach the bird? Or perhaps
he finds that he cannot climb the precipice again, and is trying to
descend to the water!"
"It is a long step of seventy feet from where that bird hangs to the
bottom," said the old fisherman, for an instant rousing himself. "He
will die, lady, and I shall have to convey his mangled corpse in my
skiff to my lonely hut, and dig for the poor boy a grave in the sand. I
loved him as if he had been my own flesh and blood!"
Kate was about to ask him, with surprise, if he were not his own son,
when a cry of alarm caused her to turn round just in time to see Lord
Robert commit himself fearlessly to the chain of bows and swing himself
over the dizzy verge. As he descended from her sight, with a smile on
his lip and a devotion of the eyes as he met hers, that told her,
plainer than words could convey it, that he ventured his life for her
sake prompted by his sympathy with the interest she took in the daring
fisher's boy, he said resolutely,
"I will save him in spite of himself, or share his fate!"
She was about to speak, but her voice failed her; and covering her eyes
to hide him, as he hung suspended above the sea, from her swimming
sight, for a few seconds she appeared as if her presence of mind had
deserted her. This weakness, if an emotion so natural can be termed
such, was but momentary. Recovering herself by a strong mental effort,
she once more looked over the cliff, and calmly watched the descent of
the daring Lester, whom she knew to be a skilful cragsman, with a prayer
on her lip for his safety. The novel chain by which he descended reached
to within ten feet of the spot where the young fisherman stood, and the
intention of Lord Robert was to take the tree, and reach the roots of it
as the other had done before him. He had accomplished, however, but a
few feet of his passage down the rock, not without great peril, though
at each junction of the bows he found a resting-place for his feet and a
hold for his hands, when the young fisher's lad lowered himself from his
shelf, and, getting his fingers in the cleft, began to descend,
alternately supporting his weight by his arms, with a celerity and
apparent recklessness that, to the spectators above, was fearful to
witness: he, however, took a firm grasp of the rock each time, and with
a cool head and steady eye, gained the spur where the hawk was fixed. In
the mean while Lord Robert had reached the tree; and leaving the chain
swinging in the air, he clasped the trunk, and quickly descended it: but
the object for which he had so generously ventured his life was now
twenty feet below him. With all his nerve, the fearless young noble
shuddered when he looked down and beheld the means by which the fisher's
lad had made his last descent. Both had reached the points at which they
aimed at the same instant; and when Lord Robert bent over to look down,
holding firmly by the roots of the tree, the other was standing with
perfect self-possession on his dizzy foothold, holding the hawk in one
hand, and waving with the other to those above.
"Do you value your life so lightly, peasant, without saying anything of
the painful sympathy your folly produces in those who are spectators of
your foolhardiness, that you peril it after this fashion?" said the
young noble, passionately, yet unable to refuse the admiration due to
his fearless character.
"I am not your serf, Lord Robert of Castle More, that my life should be
of value in your eyes," said the youth, with a look and bearing as
haughty as the young noble's.
"Ha!" exclaimed Lord Robert, with astonishment and anger; "these are
brave words to come from beneath a homespun jerkin. By the cross of St.
Peter! fisherman, thou dost presume too much upon that equality to which
mutual danger has for the moment brought us. I have periled my life to
assist thee--not by mine own will, by Heaven! for thou deservest to be
rewarded for thy temerity by a bath in the sea; but at the bidding of a
lady, who, perforce, thinks, if thou shouldst, by any lucky chance,
break thy neck for the hawk her arrow has sent over the cliff, thy blood
will be on her head. So I have explained to thee the height and depth of
my charity, lest thou shouldst swell still bigger to think that, peasant
as thou art, thou hast made a noble thy servant."
"A very proper speech, I have no doubt, Lord Robert More," answered the
fisherman, with a quiet smile of superiority (as the noble construed
it). "I need none of your lordship's aid. Without it I came down, and
without it I can go up again."
"The devil have thee, then, for thy obstinacy," cried Lester, his eyes
flashing with anger; "by the rood, if I had thee there, I would be of a
mind to help thee down rather than up."
"The path by which I came is equally open to your lordship," was the
cool answer. "Robert More, thrice have I saved your life; and though you
have thanked me like a noble for the deed at the time, have after
cancelled it by treating me like a slave, because the accident of birth
has made you noble and me base. Leave me again. I will not owe my life
to your lordship!" This was said in a steady and determined, but very
quiet tone.
"My good Meredith, I will forgive thy rudeness of speech, for thou hast
had offence," said the young man, struck with his proud and independent
character, so nearly akin to his own. "The haughtiness with which I have
treated thee is one of the consequences of this accident of birth.
Believe me, I have never forgotten what I owe to thy courage: once saved
from drowning by thee! once snatched from a peril almost equal to that
thou art now in! once preserved from death beneath the antlers of an
enraged stag! I have not forgotten these debts, thou seest. If I have
seemed to thee ungrateful, set it down, brave Mark, to pride of birth
rather than want of feeling. Shall I aid thee, lad, in gaining the top?"
"Lord Robert, your words have atoned for the past," said the young
fisherman, not unmoved by this generous and manly defence of the proud
young noble; "nevertheless, I will not owe my life to you!"
The noble fastened his penetrating gaze on the upturned face of the
young fisherman, and thought he discovered a meaning there that was a
key to his refusal.
"Ha! I have it!" he said, internally, after a few moments' reflection.
"_He dares to place his thoughts on her!_"
Instantly, with that lightning-like rapidity with which his impulsive
feelings changed, he shouted in a loud, haughty tone of voice,
"Ho, Sir Peasant! prithee tell me what strange fondness for dead hawks
set thee to jeoparding thy life after this sort?"
"Lester," cried Kate Bellamont from the summit of the cliff, hearing
their voices without understanding the words, "why this delay? Can there
be no means of reaching the noble youth?"
"Noble youth!" repeated the young man, scornfully, to himself; "it will
be a _princely_ next. By the cross! If he does not smile and wave his
daring hand to her! And she answers it back! Fellow!" he added,
fiercely, "I will come down and hurl thee into the sea!"
"You are welcome, Lord Robert," replied the other, unmoved; "yet, as
there is barely room for me, it is certain that, if you do descend,
_one_ of us only can remain upon it."
The impetuous Lester was already preparing to descend by the crevice;
but the coolness of the other at once disarmed his anger.
"Thou art a brave fellow, Mark, and I would not injure thee. But," he
added, sternly, "see that thou cross not my path!"
"How mean you, Lord Robert?" he inquired, concealing his penetration of
the lover's motives under a look of simplicity that embarrassed the
haughty and sensitive noble.
Before he could reply, the voice of the Countess of Bellamont,
encouraging them both, was heard from the summit. She only had this
instant arrived, drawn hither by the rumour of the danger of the
fisher's lad, accompanied by Dermot, and one or two men-servants, with
ropes and other means of assisting those below.
Her first proceeding, on discovering the position of the parties, was to
attach the rope to the chain of bows, and have the end of it firmly tied
to the tree. She then bade the men to lower it steadily till it could be
reached by Lord Robert, and in a few seconds he held it in his grasp.
"Now, Sir Peasant," said Lester, relaxing into his former haughty mood,
"here is the means of reascending the cliff."
"You may profit by it, my lord, I will not," said the youth, firmly. "I
will receive no favour at your hands."
"Then, by Heaven, thou shalt ascend, whether thou wilt or no," said the
noble, with energy. "I have pledged my word to save thee, and I will
redeem my pledge. Ho! there above! Drop a piece of cord a few yards in
length, so that it will fall at my feet."
The coil was placed by Kate Bellamont on the rope, and the next moment,
sliding down like a ring along the chain of bows, it was caught in his
hand.
"Let out twenty feet more of the rope," he again shouted, "and see that
it is well fast above."
As it passed through his hands, he conducted it over the shelf on which
he stood till it touched the feet of the young fisherman. He had quietly
watched these preparations, and, as they were completed, he coolly
glanced into the depth beneath, and then upward to the young noble, with
an air so resolute that the other paused ere he descended by the chain,
on a link of which one foot already rested.
"Surely thou wilt not be so mad!" exclaimed Lester, reading a fatal
determination in his lofty and intrepid look.
"Robert More, I will owe you no favour. Rather than be beholden to you
for my life, I will fling it away, as freely as I have now hazarded it
to win a smile from the fair maiden of Castle Cor."
"THOU! By Heaven, I thought it!" he shouted, with scorn and indignation.
"If I had thee on a piece of ground two feet square that would hold us
both, I would waive my birth, and do battle with thee on that score,
hind as thou art! and see if I could not beat out of thy bones this
leaven of insolence! I will now assuredly aid thy return to the summit,
that I may have the pleasure afterward of doing for thee this good
service."
As Lester spoke, he committed himself with cool intrepidity to the
chain, holding in one hand the coil of line, by which it was evidently
his intention to lash the young fisherman to the rope, and began rapidly
to descend.
"Robert More, I do not fear to meet you on any ground. If I did, I
should hardly take _this leap_ to avoid the lesson you have in
contemplation for me! But I will owe you no favour, not even that of
life. Nor shall you lay a finger upon me to force me to do your pleasure
in this thing. Hold! place your foot on the nock of this second bow
above me, and I will take a free spring out into the air."
This was said in a tone and manner--a steady uplighting of his clear
dark eyes, and a firm, muscular compression of the lip--that made the
other hesitate; but it was only for an instant: the next moment he let
the bow to which he held slip through his hands, and he descended with
velocity till his foot struck upon the last link, which was on a level
with the young fisherman's head. At the same moment the latter elevated
his arms high above his head, holding the hawk between his hands, and,
placing his feet close together, made a spring into the air!
Lester, with a full knowledge of his cool and resolute character, had
not anticipated this result; and, in his surprise, had nearly let go his
hold. He at the same time uttered a cry of horror, which was answered
from the summit by a loud wail of anguish from many voices; for this act
had been witnessed by all, without the cause which influenced it being
apparent. Preserving the erect attitude with which he had left the rock,
the young fisherman descended like lightning, cut the still bosom of the
black wave beneath, and disappeared below the agitated surface; the
heavy, splashing sound of his fall striking on the ears of those on the
summit of the cliff like his death-knell. Wild and full of mortal
anguish was the shriek that echoed it!
A flush of hope lighted up the countenance of Lester when he saw the
accuracy with which he had struck the surface, and thought upon the
manner of his descent. At the same time Kate Bellamont, who had been an
interested but puzzled spectator (for their voices, at the height she
stood, had not distinctly reached her) of the previous conduct of the
parties, and had beheld with horror the seemingly fatal act of the
adventurous youth, also marked the natatory art with which he had taken
the spring; and, scarcely hoping, watched, equally with Lester, the
circling waves, as they widened from the centre, with an intensity
amounting to agony.
After an interval of full thirty seconds, which seemed an age to those
who watched, the water, which had once more become nearly smooth, was
seen to part many yards from the point of descent, and the head of the
daring youth appeared above the surface. A shout, loud and long, greeted
him from the cliff; and no voice was louder or more glad in the joyful
welcome than Lord Robert's. With the hawk elevated in one hand, and
buffeting the waves with the other, he swam bravely towards a belt of
sand a few yards farther northward; and in a few moments afterward he
safely landed, full in sight of those standing anxiously on the cliff.
Pointing to his prize, and waving his hand to Kate Bellamont with native
gallantry, he disappeared around an angle of the shore, to reascend, by
a beaten and easy path, to the summit of the promontory.
In the mean time Lord Robert became an object of renewed interest to the
party. He was sixty feet from the top of the cliff, with no other means
of reaching it than the precarious chain of bows and a few additional
feet of rope: even the permanent safety of this was doubtful. It
depended solely for its strength on the goodness of the yews and the
entire soundness of the slender bow-strings; and one of these he
discovered, on running his eyes upward, was chafed by some sharp point
of the rock with which it had come in contact. There remained, however,
no alternative. It was plain that he must either trust himself to it, or
follow the example of the young fisherman, and take the leap into the
sea. For a moment he gazed down into the water, and seemed to measure
with deliberate purpose the empty void between; but, shaking his head
with doubt, he once more turned his attention to the equally dangerous,
but more probable, means of escape. The catgut which had stranded
belonged to the third bow above him. Drawing hard upon it with his whole
weight, he saw that it was slowly untwisting, and that it would be
madness to trust himself to it. His self-possession, however, did not
desert him.
"Can you obtain no stout rope that will reach me here, 'wild Kate?'" he
said, in a careless tone; "I fear the ragged points of the rock will cut
your bow-strings, and spoil them for further shooting."
"No, Lester, there is none!" answered the maiden, in a deep voice, that
betrayed the depth and intensity of her feelings at this crisis; "men
have been sent to the cove for ropes, but it is far, and it will be long
before they return, even if they succeed in getting them. God protect
you! Preserve your coolness, for my sake, Robert!" she added, with that
force and truth that spurned, at such a moment, all disguise.
Her words seemed to have awakened anew the spirit within him. Placing
his hand on his heart, he carried it to his lips, and gallantly waved it
towards her. She answered it encouragingly in return; but instantly
turning away overcome by her feelings, cast herself on the bosom of her
mother, and burst into tears.
Necessarily ignorant of this touching testimony of her attachment to
him, which his imminent danger now forbade her to disguise longer under
a mask of badinage, Lester concentrated all his energies to the task
before him. He felt that before the lapse of one or two hours, which it
would require to get ropes from the cove which was more than a league
distant, the inconvenience of his position would have left him with
little strength to climb the cliff, even with the assistance that might
then be rendered. He was now in the full possession of his physical and
mental energies, and resolved, without longer delay, to avail himself of
them. Taking the cord, which he had demanded for a very different
intention, he fastened one end around his wrist; then leaning backward
from the rock, sustaining himself by the grasp of one hand on the chain,
he threw it upward with such accurate aim that it passed through the bow
next above the one with the stranded string, and fell down within his
reach. He then loosened it from his wrist, firmly secured the ends to
the lower bow on which he was sustained, and so made the cord supply the
place of the weak bow-string, and bear the whole strain. This done, he
prepared to ascend the smooth face of the rock twenty feet to the foot
of the tree. Grasping the cord with both hands, he braced himself in a
horizontal position, one of most imminent hazard which demanded all the
coolness, self-possession and physical strength he was possessed of, and
began literally to walk up the perpendicular side of the precipice. The
stranding of a string; a sudden strain upon the tensely bent bows; the
least deviation from the horizontal, would have been instantly fatal!
Coolly, slowly, steadily, lifting himself, step by step, hand after
hand, he at last got to a level with the tree, firmly grasped one of its
roots, and by its aid sprung lightly upon the shelf on which it grew.
His preparations had been watched, and it was told Kate Bellamont that
he was preparing to ascend. But the maiden had yielded her full heart to
her woman's nature; and while he was making the perilous ascent, with
her head lifted from her mother's bosom, and with tearful eyes and
clasped hands, she was looking heavenward, breathing a silent prayer for
his safety. A shout of joy announced to her his success! Once more she
dropped her face and wept with joy. Lady Bellamont, who felt that all
had been done that circumstances admitted of, refrained from watching
his perilous feat; and, while she solaced her daughter, calmly directed
Cormac the forester to steady the rope, and keep it from rubbing against
the rocks.
Quitting the chain, Lester now ascended the tree to the transverse
branch, which he had scarcely reached when a loud crack at the root
warned him that the scathed solitary of the cliff, unused to such
repeated trials, was giving way under his weight. Hardly had he time to
throw himself upon the chain, and hang by a bow-string with one hand,
when a series of loud reports rapidly followed each other as one after
another the roots snapped; the top of the tree waved wildly to and fro,
and then the huge trunk plunged, crashing and roaring, into the flood
beneath. For an instant afterward the appalled Lester continued to cling
to the fragile chain with nervous solicitude; but at length assured that
he was not to be carried along with it into the frightful gulf, he
prepared to continue, by the same process of horizontal walking he had
hitherto adopted, his upward progress to the next shelf, six feet above
him, and with which the top of the tree had been on a level.
The effect of the fall of the tree on those so deeply interested above
can scarcely be imagined. Lady Bellamont answered the heavy crash by a
wild shriek, echoed by all around save Kate. With her the dreadful
suspense and anxiety were now lost in the certainty of his fate. She
calmly raised her head, approached the cliff with a firm step, and
looked steadily down, not with hope, but with a settled gaze of despair,
as if she would take a last look at his grave, and for ever impress upon
her heart's tablet his sea-covered tomb. It was at this moment of her
soul's anguish she confessed within her own heart that, notwithstanding
the lightness with which she might have attempted to disguise it, she
loved him with all the fervour and devotedness of a first passion.
Approaching the verge with such feelings, her surprise was only equalled
by her joy when she saw him in the act of climbing on the shelf above
described. A joyful cry escaped her; and the bold youth, looking up,
acknowledged her presence with a proud smile and wave of his hand. From
this moment Kate Bellamont was herself again. He was safe! The change
from grief to joy in her countenance was electrical! and she prepared to
watch and aid his ascent with all the coolness and energy she was
possessed of.
He had accomplished thus far his arduous task in comparative safety; and
as he had now but twenty feet more to ascend, she looked with confidence
to its successful accomplishment. This space, however, save a shelf
within eight feet of the top on which the young fisherman had alighted,
and the zigzag crevice by which he had descended the remaining twelve
feet, was steep as a wall, and as difficult of ascent. The young man,
after having hitherto passed through such trying scenes, was not now to
be daunted by any obstacles, of whatever magnitude, that opposed his
farther progress. Nerving himself to the effort, he grasped the rope,
which here had taken the place of the chain of bows, and extended
himself, as before, into a horizontal position, meeting and returning
with a smile, as he did so, her look of solicitude. As he slowly and
laboriously ascended, she inspired the men to their task of keeping the
rope from the cliff, often assisting them with her own fingers, till at
length she was rewarded by seeing him safely reach the shelf, and stand
within eight feet of the summit. By her direction the men now bent the
projecting branch of the tree until it was within his reach; when, aided
by one hand placed on the rope, he lightly climbed the limb, and with a
spring stood in safety on the top of the cliff.
Kate, who had scarcely breathed as she watched this final effort, guided
by the impulse of the moment, flung herself at once, grateful, happy,
weeping, into his arms!--so certain it is that true love will out, give
it occasion to speak for itself! And what fitter one than this? At such
a time, love is both deaf and blind. It sees, hears, knows no voice but
its own; is indifferent to the opinions of a world of witnesses, and,
setting aside all canons of propriety and discretion, abandons itself to
the impulses of its ardent nature. Such was the love of Kate Bellamont.
But love, like all other emotions, is but short-lived in its excess. The
temporary excitement passes away; reflection follows; notions of
propriety return; and the conscious victim, blushing, mortified, angry
with shame, feels that there _is_ a world of witnesses to whose canons
she is amenable, and shrinks at the judgment that will be passed on her
outrage of its received notions of maidenly propriety. Such, the next
moment after abandoning herself to the first wild gush of joy at his
escape, were the thoughts that rushed thick on the mind of the proud and
sensitive maiden. She sprang away from him; hid her face in her hands;
and, for the moment, scarcely knew whether her wounded feelings would
have vent in tears or laughter. True to her character as "Wild Kate of
Castle Cor," the latter prevailed; and, exposing her face, she broke
into a fit of merry laughter, which was caught up and continued, with
many a lively witticism, by those around, who, the moment before, were
sad and gloomy under the pressure of fatal forebodings: for so
wonderfully, yet wisely, is the human heart constituted, that smiles
never come so readily, and are never so bright, as when heralded by
tears.
The gratified Lester was too happy to receive such an ingenuous,
impulsive token of her love, and of its deep, womanly sincerity, to feel
hurt at this change in her manner, which his good sense enabled him to
refer to its true cause. With deep and silent pleasure, he felt that
that moment had fully repaid him for all he had risked.
Grace Fitzgerald, who had been by no means an indifferent spectator of
his hazardous adventure, now advanced, grasped his hand with great
warmth, and congratulated him on his safety.
"You need not look so very fond, Sir Cragsman," she said, gayly; "I am
not about to follow the example cousin Kate has so generously set for
us. Oh no! What with your exploit and Kate's folly, you will be
completely spoiled for me! I dare say you would go down that horrid
place again for another such hug as my cousin Kate gave you. Really, I
am shocked!"
"I will go down and take the leap off into the sea for a similar
reception from Grace Fitzgerald," said Lester, with an air of gallantry.
"And do you think I would come near such a dripping monster as you would
make of yourself? No, no, I am no Nereid to fancy a man coming out of
the sea."
"By which I infer, fair lady," he said, archly, "that, if I will go down
and come up dry, you will give me such a welcome as--"
"Kate gave you? Really, you are quite spoiled. Kate, come and take care
of your beau cavalier, for he is no longer fit for any company but
yours. But here comes one I will welcome, dripping or dry!"
She bounded forward as she spoke, and met, at the head of the path, the
gallant fisher's lad, who just then appeared, on his way up from the
water, bearing in his hand the ger-falcon which had been the cause of
putting in peril two human lives. He was accompanied by the old
fisherman, who, having remained on the summit of the cliff, paralyzed
and inert through alarm and anxiety until assured of his safety, had
gone down to the beach to meet him on his return. She approached the
young adventurer with one hand extended to welcome him, the forefinger
of the other at the same time lifted with censure.
"I will shake hands with you, Mark; but you deserve, handsome as you
are, to have your ears boxed. See what a to-do you have been the cause
of; and all for that great black bird, which Kate, forsooth, must shoot
instead of sending her arrow at the target. Well, you are a noble and
gallant young man, and I like you. Do you hear that, Kate? I too have
made a declaration! Well, but I won't embrace you, I think, for you are
too wet."
While the lively girl was speaking, the rest of the party, including
Lord Robert and Kate, approached and joined in welcoming him.
"My brave Meredith," said Lester, frankly extending his hand, "you
deserve a better career than that before you. Henceforth let us be
friends."
The hand of the young noble was received without embarrassment and with
a native dignity of manner by the humble youth, that, to all present,
atoned for his want of high birth; while he said, with a firm yet
respectful tone,
"We may not be enemies, but we can never be friends, Lord Robert:
friendship between the high and low is but another name for dependance
to the latter."
"I fear you speak too truly, Mark," said Kate, who had congratulated him
on his escape with an honest warmth and sincerity of manner that sent
the blood like lightning to his brows.
"Not in my case, brave Mark," said the noble, earnestly; "I will become
your patron and--"
"And is there patronage without dependance, my lord?" he asked, in a
quiet tone.
"Well, well," said Lester, colouring, "have it your own way. You have
pride enough for Lucifer!"
"But not enough for a noble," said the other, with a very slight curl of
the lip.
"Mark Meredith," said Kate, reprovingly, "you forget your station. A
proper degree of pride is the secret of independence. Perhaps you have
too much. Lord Robert is sincere, and means well by you."
"Believe her, Mark," said Grace Fitzgerald, with playful raillery;
"nobody ought to know so well what Lord Robert means as my cousin Kate."
"Stop your saucy tongue, Grace," said the maiden, placing a finger on
her bright lips. "What will you now do, Mark, with this bird, that has
cost us, through your thoughtlessness, so much anxiety and suffering?"
"And betrayed a secret that was not quite a secret before," said the
mischievous Grace.
"Grace, prithee hist!" cried Kate, with a spice of asperity.
"Give me the bird, peasant!" said Lester, in a tone of authority. "I
will nail it on the door of the lodge at Castle More, in honour of the
fair archer who shot it."
"Here is the gentle owner," replied the youth, turning towards Kate
Bellamont; and gracefully kneeling as he spoke, he gallantly laid the
bird at her feet, saying,
"Gentle archeress, deign to accept--it is the only boon I crave for my
peril--this trophy of thy skill. I have obtained it for thee at the risk
of life and limb, valuing neither, so that I might do thee a service,
and save what I know thou wilt be proud to preserve in remembrance of
this day."
"By the cross! a forward youth! an Alfred in disguise, I would swear!"
said Lester, haughtily, his quick spirit kindling at the scene. "He will
be offering next, fair Kate," he added, scornfully, "to share with thee
his palace of bark and poles, and his wide realm of sand and seashells.
S'death! a proper peasant!" The young noble's eyes sparkled, and he
paced the sward with angry impatience, as he concluded.
Kate Bellamont was not indifferent to the tone, manner, and language
with which the hawk was presented by the humble youth. She was flattered
by his well-directed compliments, and pleased, without knowing why, with
the deep, silent admiration with which he regarded her. Was it the
language of love? His manner reminded her of Lester in his most
impassioned moments of devotion; but there was in the fine face of the
young fisherman a calmer, sweeter, more chastened expression; a
reverence without humility; devotion without awe. Was it love? She
trembled, as she thought so, and dared not a second time meet his
dark-beaming eyes. The peculiar character of the expression of his face
was read aright by none but herself and Lester: for only love and
jealousy can translate the language of love. The light blue eyes of the
young noble flashed fierce fire as he witnessed what he deemed palpable
proof of his suspicions. His glance turned rapidly from the face of one
to the face of the other. The expression of his maddened him; that of
hers troubled and puzzled him; and he turned away, grinding his teeth
with bitterness: for what is there on earth so bitter as jealousy?
The contrast between the appearance of these two haughty young men was
as great as that existing between their ranks in life. The young noble
was in his eighteenth year, tall, and firmly made, with uncommon breadth
and expansion of chest, which gave a striking appearance of compactness
and muscular finish to his frame, that promised, in manhood, nobleness
of carriage as well as great personal strength. His complexion was fair
as the Saxon's; his features regular as the Greek's; but, unlike his,
stamped with that union of manly grace and strength, and bold, fiery
energy, supposed to be characteristic of the ancient Briton. Over his
clear, high forehead fell locks of light flaxen hair of rare beauty, and
shining tresses of the same pale, golden hue floated about his
shoulders. His eyes were his most remarkable feature. They were large
and blue, clear as light, and of a beautiful shape, glowing with
intellect and sparkling with animation, and, when undisturbed, beaming
with a soft and gentle expression betokening gayety of temper and
lightness of spirit; but, when roused by anger, they flashed fierce
fire, and seemed literally to blaze, so bright was the light they
emitted. They further possessed a striking peculiarity, which so marked
his angered glance that he who once encountered it never forgot it till
his dying day. This was a habit, or, rather, nature had given it to him,
when under the influence of angry passions, of lowering his brows down
over his eyes in such a way as to destroy their fine, oval form, and
give them a strange, triangular shape; and the pupil of his eyes
darkening at the same time till they grew black as night, communicated
to them a singularly wild and terrible expression.
His lips were very beautiful both in form and colour; but the upper wore
a haughty curl that marred the beauty of a mouth which nature had
chiselled with the nicest hand. He carried himself at all times with a
gallant but proud air; and his demeanour was like that of the highborn
youths of his time, taught to regard all of low degree as created for
their use and pleasure. His faults were those of education rather than
of the heart; and, where these deeply-grafted prejudices were not
attacked, he was frank, noble, and generous, and not unworthy the love
of a noble maiden like Kate Bellamont. At the moment seized upon to
describe his appearance, he was standing within a few feet of the young
fisherman, his eyes sparkling with anger and assuming that remarkable
shape which has been described, with his head and one foot advanced, and
his whole attitude hostile and threatening.
The fisher's lad, who continued kneeling for an instant at the feet of
the fair archeress awaiting her acceptance of the trophy he had
presented, met his dark look unmoved, and, as he thought, with a smile
of proud defiance. The appearance of this bold youth, whose bearing
caused the haughty Lester to question if nature had not a nobility of
her own creation, was, save in his proud carriage, strikingly opposite
to that of the young noble. He was about the same age, and nearly as
tall, but had not such fulness in the chest, and was wanting something
of his breadth of shoulders; but his figure, if lighter, was more
elegant, and united great muscular activity with native dignity and ease
of motion. He wore fishermen's loose trousers, with a coarse jacket of
brown stuff, and was both barefooted and bareheaded. His face was
exceedingly fine. It was oval in shape, with an olive complexion, still
more darkened by exposure to wind and sun: now, with the glow of
exercise and the magic presence of her before whom he bent, it had
become of the richest brown colour. His dark hair was glossy with
sea-water, and, parted naturally on his brow, fell in long raven waves
adown his well-shaped neck. His eyes were dark as hers on whom he gazed,
exceedingly large-orbed, and eloquent with thought and feeling.
"What handsome eyes!" thought Grace Fitzgerald, as she gazed on them.
"What dangerous eyes!" thought Kate.
His eyebrows were as even and accurately arched as if pencilled; but
they were redeemed from anything like effeminacy, on account of the
delicacy of their outline, by the intellectual fulness of the brow. His
nose was straight, and of just proportions; his mouth beautiful as a
girl's, yet full of character, decision, and strength, and oftener it
was the seat of dejected thought than of smiles. Its expression was
generally quiet; yet the finely chiselled lips were full of spirit; and,
when silent, seemed most to speak, so eloquent were the thoughts that
coloured them with their ruby life. The merest movement of the upper
conveyed the intensest feelings with the vivid rapidity of the
lightning's flash, whether they were begotten of scorn or irony, love or
hatred. His bearing, as well as his appearance, was above his station;
and he manifested a haughty independence of spirit that scorned the
distinctions of rank, and a pride of character that, in one of his
humble grade, was not far from being closely allied to audacity. But
perhaps this only proceeded from a certain impatience at being
compelled, nevertheless, to admit in his own person a conventional
inferiority to those with whom he felt he was on that broad basis of
equality, the elements of which are equal physical and intellectual
qualifications.
Though a poor fisher's lad, he possessed all the feelings and sensations
common to humanity, and experienced emotions both of pleasure and pain;
could feel disgusted at what was revolting, and be pleased at what was
agreeable. He shared, therefore, with all men, of whatever rank, from
the prince to himself--for there could scarcely be a lower scale--that
mysterious principle of the heart by which it attracts, and is attracted
to, woman--he beheld Kate Bellamont, and this moral loadstone, acting as
nature intended it should do, irresistibly drew him towards her. Without
reflection, without cherishing either a hope or a fear, but simply happy
in the contiguity, he gave himself up to the new and delightful
sensations produced by the flow of love's magnetic fluid through his
heart. In plain words, the poor fisher's lad fell deeply in love with
the highborn heiress of Castle Cor.
No one of the wonderful phenomena of the human mind so fully
demonstrates that it is a mesh of anomalies, as the existence of the
fact that, when a man loves a woman, he has only to learn that another
regards her with the same flattering sentiments, to hate him most
cordially, seek him out, quarrel with him, and even take his life. It
would seem to be taken for granted that the knowledge of this fact would
have a directly contrary effect; for the presumption irresistibly
follows, that whoever feels an interest in the object to which we
ourselves are so closely bound by ties of love, must, without regarding
the delicacy of the compliment to our individual tastes, be
proportionably loved by us. But experience has too often demonstrated
this by no means to be the case; but, on the contrary, the knowledge of
the existence of a parallel attachment produces in the breast of the
legitimate admirer wrath, malice, and hatred, filling his soul towards
the subject of it with all manner of evil.
True to this feeling of the human heart, the young noble and fisher's
lad forthwith felt rising in their breasts towards each other emotions
of a hostile character; for love is a famous leveller, and the prince
can deign even to hate his slave if love raises him to a rival. In one
of the youths it manifested itself in the cool expression of defiance:
in the other, by haughty scorn and indignant surprise.
When the fisher's lad had finished his manly and gallant address, he
modestly continued to await, with his hand upon the bird, the
acknowledgments of the fair maiden. Gratified, yet embarrassed, Kate
remained silent, knowing not how to reply to the chivalrous lad, who,
under the magic tuition of love, had suddenly assumed a character that
alarmed her; who, all at once, had been converted, as if by a spell,
from the quiet, yet handsome fisher's boy, who was accustomed to attend
her in her excursions along the beach, into a bold and daring lover! She
could not be insensible to the compliment. She loved Lester with all her
heart; therefore she could not have requited the youth's boyish love,
had his blood been noble as her own. Yet there remained a place in her
heart for kindly gratitude, and with a smile that sent the quick colour
to the forehead of the boy, she said, in a voice that thrilled to his
soul,
"I thank you, Mark, for the gift. I will keep it in remembrance of your
courage, as well as a trophy of my skill in archery; notwithstanding, I
fear good Cormac will lay claim to it, as it was hit with his own arrow.
It would make a brave ornament, with its wings spread at length above
the door of his cot," she added, turning to the old forester, who stood
respectfully on the outskirts of the party that was gathered about Mark
and his ger-falcon.
As she spoke her thanks she extended to Mark her hand, which he took
with blushing embarrassment, and, after a moment's hesitation,
gracefully carried to his lips. The eyes of the young noble sparkled
with anger as he saw the offer of the hand, but they shot forth a
menacing glare as he witnessed the act on the part of the youth: turning
on his heel with an execration, he would have left the ground but for
the eye of Kate Bellamont, which he caught fixed upon him.
"Come, Mark," said Grace, "you must join us all in the pavilion; for you
need refreshment after your fatigue. I wish, Robert, you would present
him with one of your green hunting-suits. I declare, I should like to
see if he would not outbrave you all. Do! good Lord Robert."
"You are perfectly crazy, Grace," said Kate, aside.
"Am I? was the quiet reply, accompanied by a quizzical look, which
conveyed far more than the words to Kate's comprehension, and made her,
in spite of her efforts to maintain indifference, look exceedingly
foolish.
"You are all beside yourselves, I verily believe," said Lester, in a
tone that his accent alone made biting; "I have no doubt whatever that
it would oblige you excessively, Lady Grace, if I would exchange attire
with your fishy favourite."
"Really, Lord Robert, I wish you would. I have a curiosity to know what
sort of a fisherman you would make. I dare say a very nice one, save a
spice or so of pride, that would hardly suit your station."
"Pride in a peasant is impertinence. But 'tis an attribute most
congenial to the station, I discover," he added, with cool irony, "and
doth recommend its possessor, I see, most particularly to the favour of
noble ladies."
"I advise you, then, Lester, when you chance to fall in their good
graces," said Kate, assuming the same tone, yet qualifying its
bitterness with good-humour, "that you renew your suit under a fisher's
garb; believe me, it will assuredly restore you to favour."
"I have no hesitation in believing it," said Lester, in a grave tone,
and with a marked emphasis of manner that excited both maidens to
laughter; but he was far from participating in their merriment, and
turned from them with an angry brow.
"I have delayed the banquet too long with this folly," said Kate; "hie
to the pavilion, fair archers and gallant esquires all," she added,
gayly, "and I will soon follow you. As for you, Mark, I will send to you
some of the choicest viands on the board, and cousin Grace shall be the
bearer of them. Cormac, take up the hawk."
"This honour will please Lord Robert better," replied Grace, glancing at
him with an archly malicious look.
"Lord Robert will have nothing to do with this piece of folly," cried
he, in a tone that made her start. "By the cross of Christ! peasant, if
you betake not yourself speedily to thy hovel, I will hurl thee with
mine own hand from the cliff upon its roof."
As he spoke he advanced upon him. Mark looked apologetically at Kate,
and then sprang to his feet, and confronted him with that calm courage
which had hitherto characterized him. His coolness maddened the
impulsive Lester, and with a bound he leaped upon him, and caught him by
the throat; but, ere he could get his fingers firmly clinched upon his
windpipe, he reeled violently backward by the force of a blow upon his
chest, dealt with a skill and accuracy of aim that compensated for any
inequality of physical strength. With eyes darkening with rage, he
recovered himself, and seeing lying not far from him on the ground his
short hunting-spear, he snatched it up, and launched it at his breast
with a force and direction that would have transfixed him on the spot
but for his presence of mind; anticipating its flight, he quietly moved
from its path, when it passed within a few inches of his head with a
loud whirring noise, and, striking against a distant rock, shivered into
a thousand fragments.
"Robert Lester," exclaimed Kate Bellamont, with a flashing eye and a
voice of indignant horror, "by that act you have forfeited all that
belongs to you as a noble gentleman, and also," she added, with deep
feeling and a proud spirit, "all that connects you with any person (I
speak for all) that is here present."
"Pardon me, lady," he said, throwing himself at her feet, and attempting
to take her hand.
"Never, Robert Lester. Touch me not! Leave me--leave me! Leave us all!
The farther festivities of the day will be marred by your presence!"
"Lady--"
"Silence, assassin!" and the dark eyes of the roused heiress of
Bellamont flashed with such a light as might burn in an indignant
seraph's.
"Ha!" he cried, starting to his feet, "this to me!"
"This to you, Robert Lester, who now have made yourself lower than the
meanest peasant. I degrade you from your esquireship; and, faith! if the
more noble Mark Meredith shall not take your place. Mark, approach and
be my esquire of archery!"
The youth proudly smiled, but hesitated.
"I command you. As true as my father's blood runs in my veins, thou art
the more noble!"
"God of Heaven! this is too much to bear calmly," cried Lester, his eyes
assuming that remarkable shape that characterized them when his anger
had grown to its height.
"Mercy!" cried Grace Fitzgerald, with real alarm; "what a fearful look!
I wonder," she added, with a slight touch of her usual manner, "that I
ever could have had the courage to coquet with such a terrible
creature."
The fierce noble made no reply, but, glancing from her to Kate, looked
pleadingly, as if about to speak; but she shook her head with a motion
scarcely perceptible, but in a firm manner, that left no hope to his
repentant spirit. Striking his forehead violently, with mingled shame
and rage he rushed from the spot towards the castle, and walked rapidly
until he disappeared behind an angle of one of the towers. Kate
Bellamont followed him with her eyes, her brow unbent, her proud manner
and high-toned look unchanged; but, when he could no longer be seen,
there was perceptible a struggle on her eloquent countenance to restrain
the emotion with which her heart was full. With an even voice and forced
gayety, she said,
"We will now to the pavilion, maidens fair and cavaliers; and I trust
this rudeness of yonder haughty boy will not mar our festivities. Mark,
you will attend me. What! has he gone too? God grant two such fiery
youths meet not again this day."
"Didst observe, my lady," said Cormac, who had been a silent spectator
of the exciting scene, "didst take note of that look out of the eyes of
Lord Robert? Well, if it did not remind me of Hurtel o' the Red Hand, as
if he had stood before me."
And the old forester ominously shook his head, as if it contained
something very mysterious, yet untold, and followed the party to the
pavilion, whither they had already directed their steps, to partake,
with what spirits they might after the scenes that had transpired, of
the luxurious banquet therein spread for their entertainment.
Here Kate Bellamont, who preserved a calm dignity the while, and, save
to the eye of Grace, whose generous spirit sympathized warmly and
sincerely in her feelings, betrayed no outward signs of emotion, with a
tranquilly-spoken excuse for her absence left them and fled to the
castle: she ran through its long hall like a hunted hart; flew up the
broad staircase to her boudoir, and entering it, closed the door. Then
uttering a gasping cry of suffering, she threw herself, with a wild
abandonment of passion, upon a seat; the fountains of her bursting
heart, so long choked up, were opened; and she gave way to an
irresistible flood of tears.
It is ever thus with woman! Although, in the moment of just resentment,
pride and anger may for a while check the flow of affection, and harden
the wounded heart as if bound about with bands of steel, yet love will
return again, dissolve these bands, and convert resentment into
tenderness. It is its nature to obliterate all dark spots that wrong may
have cast upon the heart; to palliate offences, and to forgive even
where forgiveness is a weakness: it makes itself half sharer of the
fault; is ever ready to bear the whole weight of the blame, and with
open arms to receive back again, without either atonement or
acknowledgment, the guilty but still loved offender.
In a few moments the current of her feelings had changed. She thought of
the thousand noble qualities of Lester's head and heart, shaded only by
the faults of pride of birth and a hasty temper.
"For these," she asked of her heart, "shall I break his high spirit? For
these shall I inflict a pang on his noble nature? For these, which among
men are regarded praiseworthy attributes of highborn gentlemen--for
_these_ shall I make him unhappy, and myself--for it will kill
me--miserable? Oh, Lester, dear Lester, I was too, too cruel! You had
cause for anger; but oh, that fatal spear! Would that it had been far
from your hasty arm!"
At this moment she heard the sound of horses' feet moving rapidly across
the court towards the forest. With a foreboding of the cause she flew to
the lattice, and beheld Lester, mounted on his coal-black steed,
galloping at the top of the animal's speed away from the castle, each
moment burying his armed heels into his sides, and riding as if he would
outstrip the winds. For a moment she watched him with an earnest gaze,
then threw open the lattice, shouted his name, and waved her hand! But
his back was towards her, and he was too far off to hear even _her_
voice calling him to return; and in a few seconds afterward he entered
the wood. With tearful eyes she saw the last wave of his dark plume as
he disappeared in the winding of the road; and, leaning her hand upon
the window, she sobbed as if her young heart would break. Oh love, love,
what a mystery thou art!