A LIGHT IN THE FOREST
Philippa spent the rest of that day in a state of anxious indecision.
Everything seemed against her. On all sides danger threatened, and her
situation was made doubly distressing from the knowledge that there
was no one with whom she could take counsel. Her lover, Von Tressen,
would be ready enough to advise and protect her, but somehow she shrank
from giving him the necessary explanation of her presence in that
out-of-the-way region, and her intimacy with Zarka. The thought that
they had been seen together in the forest alley filled her with angry
shame; she longed for an opportunity of explaining her confidential
relations with the Count, yet in the first flush of her love she dared
not. What, she asked herself, would Von Tressen think of finding her
there with the man she professed to fear and hate? Chance itself
seemed to have joined her enemies; if only she had some friend from
whom she could frankly seek advice. Her step-father, she felt, was
absolutely untrustworthy; selfish and indifferent, he would be only
too glad to play into Zarka’s hands. No. She must go through the fight
single-handed, unless she could bring herself to call Von Tressen to
her aid. Zarka had left her that morning, after the three men had
passed, as her open and declared enemy, for she had remained firm in
her rejection of his suit. His was one of those positive characters
which gather strength from opposition: the blood of half savage,
turbulent ancestors ran in his veins; his courtly manner was but an
assumed mask, behind which was a strong, unscrupulous, vindictive will.
Sooner than admit the success of a rival, he was capable, Philippa felt
sure, of betraying her to D’Alquen. Ah, there was danger indeed, when
once that fanatical avenger had resolved to strike. Towards sunset she
had looked out and fancied she saw the man again watching the farm from
his post of observation on the hill. It was horrible in that lonely
region to be ever under that wild malignant eye, never knowing when the
blow the watcher meditated might fall. Then a maddening thought came to
her. What if this man had slandered her to Von Tressen? How much did he
know? What tale might he not have told? The Lieutenant had not been to
the farm that day. Why was that? Yesterday’s avowal of love should have
brought him to her; and yet a whole day had passed and, but for that
chance unfortunate _rencontre_, she had seen nothing of him. Everything
seemed in a vortex of doubt and danger. It was more than Philippa could
bear, and at last she resolved that, come what might, she would make a
bold effort to see her lover without delay. Might not he be in danger
too? Zarka had boasted of his power, and of his unscrupulous people. If
he could put one man out of the way, why not another? Yes, she would
seek Von Tressen at all hazards.
Once her resolve taken she waited impatiently for nightfall, for it
was under cover of darkness that she judged it safest to make her way
to the encampment. Then, giving the excuse of a headache she bade
her step-father good-night, and went to her room, whence she easily
slipped out of the house unobserved. She knew pretty well the direction
in which the encampment lay; it was not far off, but the night was
dark and thundery, and her progress was naturally slow. But she never
hesitated or faltered, although the oppressive gloom and silence of the
forest, the thought of danger from man or beast, might well have made
her nerves play the traitor. On she went steadily, warily, threading
her way through the great trees, on and on without a thought but of her
purpose, for her situation had made her almost reckless save of one
thing, the danger of losing her lover.
She had gone a good distance when the disquieting idea came to her that
she had missed her way. The darkness was so impenetrable that it was
almost impossible for her to tell in which direction she was going; she
had boldly set out and held her course in a straight line, but now she
suddenly realized that in that black mass of trees to follow a direct
route was, certainly to her inexperience, almost impracticable. For a
moment the danger of being lost in the forest rose to her mind; then
she beat the thought down, and went on resolutely, trusting that chance
would bring her safely to her destination. But chance was not her
friend that day.
She calculated that, had she gone direct to the encampment, she must
by that time have reached it. So she had evidently missed her way.
There was nothing to be done but to keep on, in the hope of lighting
upon the camp, since to attempt to retrace her steps would be futile.
So she persevered for a while, but all to no purpose. She seemed only
to get more hopelessly lost. Becoming desperate at length, and her
fears beginning to rise now that her purpose seemed frustrated, she
determined as a last resort to try and strike into the valley. Once
there she could at least find her way home without much difficulty.
It must lie on her right hand, she thought, so, turning in that
direction, she set off once more through the black wood.
Happily the guess at her bearings was correct. Ten minutes of rough
groping brought her, greatly to her relief, to the end of the trees
on that side of the valley and to clear ground. Here progress was
comparatively easy, and the darkness not so paralyzing. As she stood
debating whether she should make her way up the valley to the Grange
and thence try the path again, or attempt to find her way direct to the
encampment, she saw before her at some distance a light. It was very
small and lasted but a moment or two, like the striking of a match. Was
it some one lighting a cigar? she thought. Von Tressen, perhaps, or
Count Zarka? If only it were the Lieutenant. It was not unlikely. The
spirit of reckless adventure was on her, and she resolved to go forward
and see. So she ran cautiously towards the point whence the light had
shone, slackening her pace as she calculated she must be near it, and
creeping along so as not to attract attention. Presently she stopped
and listened. She was certain she heard men’s voices, and fancied she
recognized Von Tressen’s. She quickly followed the sound, but progress
now was not so easy; the ground rose steeply on the other side of the
narrow valley and the wood was thick again. Still she pressed on, with
many a stumble, encouraged by the thought that her lover was so near.
Soon the wood became as dark and bewildering as that from which she had
lately escaped. Still up and up the girl panted, hoping every moment
to hear the welcome voice again, but, though she often stopped to
listen, she could not be certain that she heard it. Suddenly a strange
phenomenon rose before her sight; the forest, thick as it was, seemed
now to present a great, black, impassable wall. Philippa stopped in
amazement. Then, as the air grew lighter, the explanation flashed upon
her. The great black mass in front of her was not wood but stone; she
was outside Rozsnyo.
Scarcely had Philippa realized her whereabouts when she saw a dark
object moving in the obscurity a few yards away. She was now standing
by the slope of the dry moat. Instinctively she crouched down beside
one of the shrubs with which it was planted. The moving figure was a
man. He came slowly on, passed close to where she was hidden, and so
disappeared in the darkness. But an uncontrollable fascination had made
her look up in spite of her fear as he passed, and she recognized him
even under those conditions. It was D’Alquen.