THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS.
I HAD soon breasted through the trees to the side of a dark runnel
that darted through the glade. Arrived there I felt that my enemies
were nonplussed, as I had come by a devious and mazy way of which they
must certainly be ignorant. Surely I could breathe at last, and when I
stopped beside the stream to recover myself a little, my success seemed
so complete, and I had played such a pretty trick upon my friend the
Corporal withal, that I was quite complacent at the thought and felt a
disposition to celebrate this triumph in a new sphere in a fashion that
should startle ’em. Now it must have been the action of the freakish
moon upon my giddy head or the magic of the woods, or a strain of wild
music in the stream, for somehow as I stood there in that perishing
cold night listening to the solemn river and my enemies calling through
the stern stillness of the trees, all the wantonness of my spirit was
let loose. The sharp frost made my blood thrill; my heart expanded to
the pale loveliness of the sleeping earth. This was life. This was
spacious air, and the pride of freedom. In this oppressive eighteenth
century of ours, with its slaveries of rank and fashion, one must go
into a wood of moonlight in the middle of the night for one’s pulses to
pipe to the natural joys of unrestraint. At least I thought so then,
and in the exuberance of the moment I concocted a merry plot for the
diversion of myself and the mystification of the Corporal and his men.
Nor was it made of mischief merely, since it was to be ordered in such
a cunning way that it should still further throw them off the rebel’s
track, and confirm their theory that they had already seen him in this
wood.
First I returned upon the road I had come by and spied out where they
were. This was a matter of small difficulty, as their voices were
plainly to be distinguished close at hand.
Creeping through the thickets at the direction of their tones, I came
at last to a place where a rift among the tree tops let the brightness
in. It poured upon the Corporal and his men, assembled in still another
consultation underneath a glorious silver-birch, arch and lissome as a
maid, which rose above them with graces indescribable, and seemed from
where I stood to fade into the sky. Clearly my pursuers were seriously
at fault, and even dubious of the road to take in this strange
wilderness. ’Twas in my mind to minister to this perplexity.
Selecting a spot appropriate to the purpose, I cheerfully set about
preparing them the surprise I had in store. I crushed my soft,
three-cornered hat into a pocket in my cloak, unbound my hair, and let
its whole dark luxury shine with moonlight to my waist. This in itself
I considered sufficient to destroy all resemblance between the figure I
intended to present, and the fugitive they had so lately chased across
the park, and as all of them must be extremely ill-acquainted with the
features of my Lady Barbara, having only beheld them for an instant the
previous night, ’twas not at all likely that they would be recognised
just now. This done I crept some distance up the glade, and as I did
so took occasion to recall the weirdest melody I knew, which partook
of the nature of a chant, wedded the absurdest doggerel to it, though
it must not be denied the merit of being a kind of interpretation of
my abandoned fancy, and lifted my voice up loud and shrilly in a song.
Having fallen after the first bar or two into a proper strain, I warmed
to the wanton mirth of it and plunged my spirit completely in its whim.
I tripped from my concealment in the glade into an open avenue leading
to a spot in which the soldiers stood in council. Full before their
astounded eyes, I came dancing down the moonlight singing:
“This world it is not weary,
Though my life is very long;
For I’m the child of faery,
And my heart it is a song.
My house it is the starlight,
My form is light as air,
As out upon a bright night,
I issue from my lair;
And riding on a moonbeam,
I come to realms of men;
Yet when I see the day gleam,
I then go back again.”
I never saw six grown men affected so profoundly. One broke into a
howl, not unlike a dog’s when his tail hath been trod on suddenly,
wheeled about and fled precipitately thence. Two others locked
themselves in one another’s arms, and turned away their eyes in the
anguish of their fright; whilst the remainder seemed struck entirely
stupid, fell back against the tree trunk, and, being unable to believe
their eyes, opened their mouths as widely as their orbs, probably to
lend some assistance to their vision.
As for me, you may be sure I was delighted highly by this flattering
reception. And I do not doubt that I made a most unearthly figure with
masses of hair streaming wild on my shoulders, my eyes wild-staring,
and my feet tripping a fantastic measure to the shrill chant issuing
from my lips:
“I ever choose the woodland,
For here the wild birds are,
And I’m a sister to them,
Though my home it is a star.”
Thus I sang as I danced down the glade, waving my hands above my head
in a kind of unholy glee at the weird music that I made. I halted
opposite these tremblers, and set up a ridiculous scream of mockery.
Then I looked upon them with great eyes of wonder, and then again began
to dance and sing:
“A blackbird is my brother,
I see him in that tree,
A skylark is my lover,
But I prefer a bee.”
While I was in the middle of this arrant nonsense, my good friend
Flickers, who was paler than a ghost, hung on to his pistol with
tenacity, for that piece of iron held all the little courage that he
had. I could see the perspiration shining on his face, as he muttered
in a voice that trembled like the ague:
“What you are I don’t know. But if you’re woman or if you’re fiend,
come a step nearer and I’ll--I’ll shoot you!”
He pointed the pistol, but the muzzle tottered so that he could not
have hit a tree.
“Ha! ha! ha!” I laughed in my throat in a voice that was sepulchral,
then danced before them once again and began to sing:
“Water cannot quench me,
And fire cannot burn;
Pray, how will you slay me?
That have I yet to learn.”
The effect of this was to cause the pistol to drop on to the grass from
his nerveless hand.
“Go--go ’way!” he stuttered; “go ’way, you--you witch!”
Whereupon I broke out in reply:
“He says I am a night-witch,
But this I do deny;
For I’m a child of faery,
And my house it is the sky.”
Mr. Flickers said no more. ’Twas not surprising, either. I much
question whether any human creature could have conversationally shone
in that moonlit wood just then. Those simple soldiers, shown on a
solemn background of gloom and mighty trees, were sufficient in that
eerie light to shatter the nerves of a person of the strongest mind
should he come upon them suddenly. What must I have been, then? And
these victims being very little encumbered with their education had,
therefore, the less restriction imposed upon their ignorant fancies.
’Twas quite certain that I was either a witch or a rather superior sort
of devil, as, of course, the popular conception of fiends is not by any
means so beautiful.
I did not venture any nearer to them than I need, lest they should
discover too many evidences in me of the very clay of which they were
themselves composed.
“Behold in me,” cried I, in prose, but with that impressive grandeur
that belongs to the queens of tragedy, “behold in me the Spirit of the
Woods. And he who heeds me not shall be surely lost.”
Prose even upon these primitive minds seemed to lack the natural magic
that is in poetry. For now ’twas that they began to recover somewhat
of their courage. But by a master stroke I proved to them that I had a
supernatural quality--that of divination, if you please.
“You seek a prisoner,” says I, “who escaped from a stable yesterday.
His name is Dare, and he hath passed this way.”
Without a doubt my prestige was increased by the singular knowledge
here displayed. I could see their astounded faces asking of one
another: How can this wild creature, this witch, this Spirit of the
Woods, know all this unless she is even as she says, a supernatural?
Let us heed her every word, for surely she can tell us much.
Faith, it was much I told them! I told them I would be their friend,
and that if they would follow my directions they should learn the way
the prisoner went.
You must understand that the voice I used was one that until that hour
had never been heard on earth; that my long cloak and flowing hair
held awful possibilities; that I stood where the moon was brightest;
that my eyes were very wild; that my face was wondrous beautiful, but
weird; that I was possessed of the unnatural power of divination; while
my conduct and whole appearance were the most fantastic ever seen.
Therefore when I pointed out to them the exact direction of the rebel’s
flight, which I had better state was precisely opposite to the one I
proposed to embrace myself, they accepted it without a question and
eagerly took this road, mighty glad, I think, to be relieved of my
presence on such gentle terms.
Watching them recede from sight, I then quickly knotted and tucked
my hair up under my hat, and then set off for the house without once
tarrying. I made a slight detour to the left to approach it from the
further side, and so prevent the least risk of encountering my enemies
on the journey. Speed was quite as imperative now as formerly, for
the rebel should be awaiting me in the kitchen, and at the mercy of
the first person of the household who might chance to see him there.
Fortunately, the hour, as far as I could judge, was considerably short
of five o’clock; and in the winter time the domestics were not abroad
till six. Gliding through the trees and across the snowy grass, I was
standing at the kitchen door in less than half an hour. Entering with
stealth, I had no sooner closed the door behind me than I was arrested
by the light hand of the rebel on my sleeve.
“They are fooled, my lad,” says I, my triumph irrepressible, “fooled
as six men never were before. And now, sir, I think that we shall save
you.”
“Madam,” says he, with a boyish directness that seemed charming, “oh,
what a genius you have! But I cannot thank you now, I am too dead
weary. And where am I to hide?”
“If you will slip your shoes off and carry ’em in your hand,” says I,
“I will lead you to my chamber, and once there you shall sleep the
clock round if you have the disposition.”
“And you,” says he, “are you not weary?”
“Not I,” I answered. “I am never weary of adventures. Besides, I have
much to do ere you can be snugly hid.”
An instant later I had guided him through the darkness and the maze
of passages in deep silence to my bedroom, this being the most secret
chamber I could devise for his reception. Only Mrs. Polly Emblem was
ever likely to intrude upon his privacy. Wherefore I led him there and
permitted him to fling his worn-out frame upon my couch.
Discarding the cloak and hat of his I wore, I wrapped a warm rug about
him, gave him a cordial, and bade him get himself to sleep. Then I
turned the key upon him and repaired to the chamber of my maid.
I entered without disturbing her, for she always was a wonderful good
sleeper at the hour she ought to be awake preparing a dish of chocolate
for her mistress. I kindled her candle with the extreme of difficulty,
for my hands were numbed so badly that for the present they had no
virtue in them. Even the light did not arouse the comfortable Mrs.
Polly, but when I laid my icy fingers on her warm cheek they worked
on her like magic. She would have shrieked only I held my other hand
across her mouth.
“Do you see the time!” says I; “three minutes after five. But hush! not
a word, my girl, as you love your life, for there’s a strange man got
into the house.”
The foolish creature shook with fright.
“He is in my chamber,” I added, with an air of tragedy.
“Oh, my lady!” says the maid.
There was too little time to plague her, though, which was perhaps as
well, for I was in a mood that might have caused her to take an early
departure from her wits. Instead of that, however, I told the story of
the night with all the detail that was necessary. When I had done, the
silly but delightful thing looked at me in a kind of holy wonder.
“Oh, your la’ship!” says she, in tones of very tolerable ecstasy. “What
a heart you’ve got! What an angel’s disposition!”
“No, my silly girl,” says I, though not displeased to hear her say so.
“I happen to have neither. An infernal deal of naughtiness is all that
my character contains. A stranger sleeping in my chamber! Besides, you
know you flatter me. For if no man is a hero to his valet, how possibly
can a woman be an angel to her maid?”
To prove the soundness of this argument I grasped Mrs. Polly’s ear,
pinched it pretty badly, and asked her what she thought of my divinity.
She was soon into her clothes though, and had a fire lit; while I
made haste to pull my shoes and stockings off, their condition was so
horrid, and exchanged them for some dry ones, then set about warming
my hands and toes, for they were causing me to grin with the fierce
hot-ache that was in them. Having at last put my own person into a
more comfortable state, and that of the rebel into some security, I
took counsel of Mrs. Polly on the problem of his ultimate escape.
She was the only creature I could possibly confide in at this moment.
And as she was the staunchest, faithfullest of souls I had no
hesitation. Presently some of my clothes and toilet necessaries had to
be procured. It was unfortunate that they were in my dressing-room, and
that the only entrance to it was through my chamber. However, taking
Emblem with me, I went to fetch them out.
Unlocking the door with care, we entered softly, that we might not
disturb the sleeper, for God knew how much there lay before him! I had
Emblem pull the blinds up against the daylight, for should any person
look upon my window from the lawn at noon ’twould astonish them to see
it veiled. We soon took the requisite articles from the dressing-room,
relocked the chamber door, and returned to whence we came. But ere this
was done, I held the candle near the sleeper’s face. ’Twas to relieve
the curiosity of Emblem, you understand; she was pining to see what the
fugitive’s countenance was like.
He made the most sweetly piteous picture. He lay huddled among
snow-white sheets of linen, and a counterpane of silk, in his tattered,
muddy suit of coarse prunella, which left many soils upon its delicate
surroundings. His cheek was pale and lean as death. Where the gyves
had pinched his wrists they had left them raw; and I was startled at
the thinness of his body, for it appeared to have no more flesh upon
it than a rat. In sooth he looked the very poorest beggar that ever
slept on straw, and no more in harmony with his present situation than
was Mr. Christophero Sly in like circumstances. Yet as I looked at him
there seemed something so tender and so strong about his meagreness
that I pushed back the hair upon his forehead with light fingers in
an absent manner, and just as lightly and just as absently did touch
it with my lips. No sooner had I done this than I drew them back, and
turned my face abruptly round to Emblem as though it had been stung. I
had forgotten Emblem!
But I saw that the maid was blushing for me very deeply, though she
strove with excellent intention to look quite unconscious of my
conduct. Yet I coldly stared her out of countenance.
“Girl,” says I, severely, “the queen can do no wrong. She may box the
ears of gartered dukes, or kiss the brows of sleeping bakers’ boys. But
only the queen, you understand.” And I shot out such a look at her that
she led the way to her chamber without a single word.
I appeared at breakfast in high feather, but with rather more
complexion than I usually wear so early in the day. But a woman cannot
go prowling over fields of snow and moonlight at dreadful hours of
morning without a tale being told. Cosmetics, though, have a genius for
secrets.