THE OUTLAW.
As I followed my path over the unequal flooring of the forest, among the
crowded trunks of the trees and the thickets of brambles, I saw, on a
sudden, Mr. Marston almost beside me. I was a good deal startled, and
stood still. There was something in his air and looks, as he stood with
his hat raised, so unspeakably deprecatory, that I felt at once
re-assured. Without my permission it was plain he would not dream of
accompanying me, or even of talking to me. All Laura's warnings and
entreaties sounded at that moment in my ears like a far-off and
unmeaning tinkle. He had no apologies to make; and yet he looked like a
penitent. I was embarrassed, but without the slightest fear of him. I
spoke; but I don't recollect what I said.
"I have come here, Miss Ware, as I believe, at some risk; I should have
done the same thing had the danger been a hundred times greater. I tried
to persuade myself that I came for no other purpose than to learn how
that foolish fellow, who would force a quarrel on me, is getting on. But
I came, in truth, on no such errand; I came here on the almost desperate
chance of meeting you, and in the hope, if I were so fortunate, that you
would permit me to say a word in my defence. I am unfortunate in having
two or three implacable enemies, and fate has perversely collected them
here. Miss Grey stands in very confidential relations with you, Miss
Ethel; her prejudices against me are cruel, violent, and in every way
monstrous."
He was walking beside me as he said this.
"Mr. Marston," I interposed, "I can't hear you say a word against Miss
Grey. I have the highest opinion of her; she is my very dearest
friend--she is truth itself."
"One word you say I don't dispute, Miss Ware. She means all she says for
truth; but she is cruelly prejudiced, and, without suspecting it, does
me the most merciless injustice. Whenever she is at liberty to state her
whole case against me--at present I haven't so much as heard it--I
undertake to satisfy you of its unfairness. There is no human being to
whom I would say all this, or before whom I would stoop to defend myself
and sue for an acquittal, where I am blameless, but you, Miss Ware."
I felt myself blushing. I think that sign of emotion fired him.
"I could not tell," he said, extending his hand towards Plas Ylwd,
"whether that foolish man was dead or living; and this was the last
place on earth I should have come to, in common prudence, while that was
in doubt; but I was willing to brave that danger for a chance of seeing
you once more--I could not live without seeing you."
He was gazing at me, with eyes glowing with admiration. I thought he
looked wonderfully handsome. There was dash and recklessness, I thought,
enough for an old-world outlaw, in his talk and looks, and, for all I
knew, in his reckless doings; and the scene, the shadow, this solemn
decaying forest, accorded well, in my romantic fancy, with the wild
character I assigned him. There was something flattering in the devotion
of this prompt and passionate man.
"Make me no answer," he continued--"no answer, I entreat. It would be
mere madness to ask it now; you know nothing of me but, perhaps, the
wildest slanders that prejudice ever believed, or hatred forged. From
the moment I saw you, in the old garden at Malory, I loved you! Love at
first sight! It was no such infatuation. It was the recalling of some
happy dream. I had forgotten it in my waking hours; but I recognised,
with a pang and rapture, in you, the spirit that had enthralled me. I
loved you long before I knew it. I can't escape, Ethel, I adore you!"
I don't know how I felt. I was pretty sure that I ought to have been
very angry. And I was half angry with myself for not being angry. I was,
however--which answered just as well, a little alarmed; I felt as a
child does when about to enter a dark room, and I drew back at the
threshold.
"Pray, Mr. Marston, don't speak so to me any longer. It is quite true, I
do not know you; you have no right to talk to me in my walks--pray leave
me now."
"I shall obey you, Miss Ware; whatever you command, I shall do. My last
entreaty is that you will not condemn me unheard; and pray do not
mention to my enemies the infatuation that has led me here, with the
courage of despair--no, not quite despair, I won't say that. I shall
never forget you. Would to Heaven I could! I shall never forget or
escape you; who can disenchant me? I shall never forget, or cease to
pursue you, Ethel, I swear by Heaven!"
He looked in my face for a moment, raised my hand gently, but quickly,
and pressed it to his lips, before I had recovered from my momentary
tumult. I did not turn to look after him. I instinctively avoided that,
but I heard his footsteps, in rapid retreat, in the direction of the
farm-house which I had just left.
It was not until I had got more than half-way on my return to Malory
that I began to think clearly on what had just occurred. What had I been
dreaming of? I was shocked to think of it. Here was a total stranger
admitted to something like the footing of a declared lover! What was I
to do? What would papa or mamma say if my folly were to come to their
ears? I did not even know where Mr. Marston was to be found. Some one
has compared the Iliad to a frieze, which ceases, but does not end; and
precisely of the same kind was this awkward epic of the wood of Plas
Ylwd. Who could say when the poet might please to continue his work? Who
could say how I could now bring the epic to a peremptory termination?
I must confess, however, although I felt the embarrassment of the
situation, this lawless man interested me. Like many whimsical young
ladies, I did not quite know my own mind.
On the step of the stile that crosses the churchyard wall, near Malory,
I sat down, in rather uncomfortable rumination. I was interrupted by the
sound of a step upon the road, approaching from the direction of Malory.
I looked up, and, greatly to my surprise, saw Mr. Carmel, quite close to
me. I stood up, and walked a few steps to meet him; we shook hands, he
smiling, very glad, I knew, to meet me.
"You did not expect to see me so soon again, Miss Ware? And I have ever
so much to tell you. I can't say whether it will please or vex you; but
if you and Miss Grey will give me my old chair at your tea-table, I will
look in for half an hour this evening. I have first to call at old
Parry's, and give him a message that reached me from your mamma
yesterday."
He smiled again, as he continued his walk, leaving me full of curiosity
as to the purport of his news.