And he groaned aloud, crying, "Oh God! that I have lived to hear thee
say it!" and again there fell a silence, save for the whispering of the
night in the trees above us and the creeping of small creatures through
the dry grass. 'Twas almost curfew-time, and there was one star in the
black front o' th' night, like the star on the forehead of a black
stallion.
When he spake again his voice was very fierce, and he saith, "Patience,
I do command thee to release me."
But she spake never a word.
And again he said, "Better let me out to love thee, than keep me here
until I hate thee."
She shivered, leaning against the door, until the big bolt rattled in
its braces.
And he said yet again, "By the Lord God, an thou dost keep me here to
sully my good name, and that of thy father and mother, who have been to
me even as my own flesh and blood, I will never live with thee again as
man with wife, but will go forth into the New World to live and to die
with thy handmaid dishonor!"
And she was silent.
Again he spoke, and lifted up his voice in a cry exceeding sorrowful and
bitter, so that my heart froze to hear it.
"Woman! woman! was it for this I gave thee my fair fame to cherish? Or
was it for this that I put my name into thy keeping? Oh, child, listen
while there is yet time! Wilt thou with thy own hands take his manhood
from thy husband to drag it through the mire? Patience, as I have shared
thy childhood, as I have loved and cherished thy girlhood, as I have
held thee in my arms as bride and wife, give me back my honor while
there is yet time. Oh, my wife! my darling!" And I heard him sobbing
like a little lad.
At that sound she put both hands over her ears, and started to her
feet, looking from right to left like a hunted thing, and I could bear
it no longer, but leaped forward and fell on my knees before her, and
grasped her kirtle with both hands. I could scarce speak for tears, but
with all the strength that was in me did I plead with her to draw back
the bolt, but she would not. Now to this day when I do think of the fool
that I was, not to run without her knowledge and bring the old lord, thy
grandfather, or bide my time and unbar the door when she had gone, it
seems as though I must hate myself for evermore. But as I pleaded with
her, all at once there was something cold against my throat, and I
seemed to know that 'twas a dagger, and the steel cowed me, as it doth
sometimes cow strong men, and I stirred not, neither spoke I a word
more. Her face was over me, like a white flower in the purple dusk, but
her eyes bright and terrible. And when she spoke, 'twas not my little
lady's voice, but rather the voice o' a fiend. And she said,
"Swear that thou sayest nothing of all this to man, or to woman, or to
child, else will I kill thee as thou kneelest."
And I knew that for the time she was mad, and would kill me even as she
had said, did I not swear. So I did take that fearful oath, coward as I
was, and to this day am I a craven when I think on 't. When I had sworn,
she turned from me as though there were no such woman in all the earth,
and went once more to the door o' th' cave, and called his
name--"Ernle!"
He answered straightway, and said, "This once will I speak to thee, but
if thou dost not unbar the door o' th' instant, I will never hold speech
with thee again, nor touch so much as the hem of thy garments, by the
living God!"
She said, "I cannot! I cannot! But oh! say not such dreadful words. We
will be happy. 'Tis for that I keep thee here. Speak to me! Ernle!
Ernle! Ernle! Call me thy love once more! Just once! just once!"
But she might as well have plead at the door o' a tomb for all the
answer she got. Again and again she called him, but a dead man speaks no
more than spoke her lord. And at last she sprang to her feet, and rushed
away into the darkness towards the castle, and I after her.
And when I was entered in by a side door, and had changed my apparel and
gone forth to inquire after her, lo! she was raving as with fever, and
all they, her father, and mother, and Mistress Marian, thought that he
had ridden away and left her i' th' park, having said farewell to them
ere he and my lady did set forth to walk. And they strove to comfort
her.
The morrow was scarce dawned when she was up and dressed, and stealing
through the covert to the door o' th' cave. I followed her, for she
heeded me no more, now that I had taken the oath, knowing that I would
be torn in pieces ere I would betray my trust. When she was come to the
door, she kneeled down and leaned her head against it, and called to
him, with a voice so exquisite low, 'twas almost as though one should
hear the spirit when it speaks within, and she saith, "Ernle--my
love--my love."
And all was still as death. And she said, "Darling, feel with thy hands
for the bread and wine. It is near thee on the right o' th' door as thou
enterest in. Two bottles o' wine and some loaves o' bread."
But he answered her neither by word or sighing. And she said, "Wouldst
thou break my heart?" Then, when she saw that he would not answer her,
she cast herself face down along the ground, and tore up the grass with
her hands, and pressed down her face into the damp earth. And after a
while (for th' looks o't) she rose and went back to the castle.
At nightfall there rode a man to the castle gate with papers, wherein
my Lord Falkland did question wherefore Lord Radnor had not answered the
summons. And all they were amazed and looked at one another. The
messenger said, moreover, "If that it cannot be proven ere to-morrow
night that the Lord Radnor hath been the victim o' foul play, he will be
branded as a deserter throughout the land."
Thy grandfather gave one cry, "Murdered!" and the sound of it stilled
the life in me that I fell down as one dead. And when I had once more
come to the possession o' my wits, Jock did tell me as how 'twas already
whispered in the village that the young lord had deserted the cause, and
had set sail in secret for the New World. Upon this, I straightway
swooned again. And when I was recovered enough to stand upon my feet and
go forth from my chamber, behold! there was a silence over all the
house, as in a house where the best beloved has died in the night.
Men scoured the country far and near, in search o' th' murdered body o'
th' young lord. And 'twas now the evening o' th' third day. But my lady
meant not to open the door until the morrow, for if she opened it ere
then, she knew not but what matters might be righted, and her lord ride
to the wars in spite o' all. When it was nigh to sunset she did creep
forth and kneel at the door o' th' cave, and call to him in that
beautiful, gentle voice, "Ernle! Ernle! my love! my darling!"
And when he did not answer her, she ceased not, as on the day before,
but went on: "To-morrow I will set thee free. As I live, thou shall be
free to-morrow. An thou wilt but let me be near thee like thy dog, I
will ask no more. Neither will I fret thee with my sorrow. Oh, love, I
do beseech thee speak to me, whose only sin was in loving thee too
dearly. Let the kisses that as a bride I have set upon thy lips plead
with them that they speak to me. Oh, my heart! oh, my husband, have
pity! If thou wilt never speak to me again, speak to me now. Say but my
name, my silly, ill-bestowed name, 'Patience.' Nay, curse me, so I but
hear thy voice. Call me what names thou wilt. In God's name, Ernle! In
the name o' her who was once thy wife!" And as she knelt and pleaded as
a woman with her God, behold! there stepped forth from the coppice
Mistress Marian. She stood there like a figure cut in snow, for her
kirtle was all of white seme, and her hair was as a cloud fallen round
about her. When she saw my lady she drew in her breath with a sharp
sound, and set both hands against her bosom. And she bended forward from
her loins and listened, but in none otherwise moved she. And my lady
went on, "To-morrow I will set thee free--I do swear it. With the rising
o' th' morrow's sun thou shalt be free as air. Only speak to me now.
Only speak to me now. Just once, Ernle--just once."
With one spring Mistress Marian was upon her, and had pinned her arms to
her sides. And the two women stood and gazed into each other's faces,
with their throats stretched forward, as serpents stretch their throats
ere springing upon each other.
Mistress Marian spake first, and her voice was as a voice that I had
never heard, and she said, "So _this_ is the truth, then?"
My lady said no word, but her eyes were aflame.
And Mistress Marian gazed on her for an instant more, then dashed her
aside, and turned towards the cave.
"Ernle," she said, "take heart. I will set thee free--I, Marian!" But
ere her hand did touch the bolt, my lady was upon her like a little
tiger, and she wound her hands in Mistress Marian's thick tresses, and
dragged her backward.
And they rolled over and over on the ground, even as do men when they
fight, saying no word from first to last. The horror of it smote me
that I fell down upon my knees and was dumb. Now my little lady was
uppermost, now Mistress Marian. And had not my lady been strong with
despair, Mistress Marian could 'a' mastered her o' th' instant. But she
fought like a she-wolf brought to bay, with teeth and talons too, and
'twas almost as though two of a size had fought there. Howbeit, with a
sudden move, Mistress Marian flung my lady down, and set her knee upon
her, and held her, and looked from side to side, as though at a loss,
and my lady's strength was fast failing.
When I saw that, I could bide still no longer, but ran forward, crying
to Mistress Marian to be gentle with her.
She answered but these words, "Nurse, take off my girdle and bind thy
lady's hands with it." And there was that in her voice I dared not
disobey. So I bound my lady's hands, she saying never a word, and when
the girdle was fast knotted, Mistress Marian helped her gently enough to
rise, and bidding me have a care o' her, turned and drew back the bolt
from the door o' the cave.
The last light o' the sun fell like a golden lance across the threshold,
and across my lord as he lay there, face down, with his hands against
the sill o' th' door.
And she stooped down over him, saying, "He hath fainted for lack o'
food," but I knew that there was both wine and bread i' th' cave. And
she called his name, but he was silent. And she called him again and
again. And at last she bade me come to her side, and when we had turned
him upon his side so that his face was towards us, behold, he was dead.
But Mistress Marian saith again, "He hath swooned away." And she put her
hand upon his brow, but no sooner did she touch it than she cried out at
its coldness, and shook the dead man in her frenzy, crying,
"Ernle! Ernle! thou art free! Wake, man! thou art free!"
I said, "Mistress, mistress, for love of God! Dost thou not see that
neither thou nor any other can wake him more?"
Thereat she fell back upon her knees, leaning upon one arm. And she
said, "Dost thou mean--"
I bowed down mine head, for I could not meet her eyes. And she fell upon
his body, and stirred no more, so that when they came to bear the poor
young lord to the castle, they did bear her also. And for some hours we
thought her dead.
Now when my lady saw them how they lay there, and the sunlight red upon
them like to blood, she came and kneeled down in front o' me, and lifted
up her poor fettered hands meekly, like a little child. And she said,
"Nurse, I pray you tell me what it doth mean, for methinks I am waxing
foolish, like poor Marjory i' th' village whose man fell from the
cliff."