by John Bowling
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE TRYST.
"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea. The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me."
Gray.
From the flagstaff on the tower of the castle was to be seen for alittle while at midday a pennant, with long streamers fluttering in thebreeze. There was no one on the tower at the time but Alice. What is thesignificance of this? Nothing, apparently, but a freak of fancy. But anyone sufficiently observant would notice that Alice takes her stand onthe north side of the tower, and, leaning her elbows on the battlements,looks long and eagerly towards yonder grim mountain looming blackly inthe hazy distance, whose scarred limestone precipices seem fearful tolook upon. But presently there became visible to any one possessed ofstrong, keen vision, a dark speck of something which had sprung intosight against the clear background of heaven's blue. It seemed perfectlymotionless in the air, and might be some bird of prey hovering on poisedwing, and watching for its prey. But it was no bird of prey. Alice gavean exclamation of surprise.
"He sees it," she said; "he will be here to-night. Speed away laggardhours that separate me from him! There is music in his voice, and refugein his strong arms and loving heart!"
She piously uttered a prayer to the saints to guide him. But perhaps,wise one, that prayer was breathed into the idle April breeze--acontribution of nothingness--an impalpable seedling, flung out of aneedy human soul, but deposited nowhere, and having fruition never--Itrow not, for prayers, like curses, have an assured harvest, and are assurely reaped by the sowers, no inspired vision being requisite to seeit done from day to day.
The laggard hours quickly passed, and the lingering twilight deepenedinto sombre night. The thrushes which carolled to each other from treeto tree as the deepening gloom gathered about them, as though loth tosay good-bye to the joyous day, had long since sought theirresting-place for the night. Standing beside the old oak in the woodmight be seen the form of Oswald, listening intently for sound of humanvoice or human footfall. Nothing disturbs the silent night air thatgives uneasy thoughts to the listener, though there are many soundsdistinctly audible to one so familiar with nature, and the woods aremost alive now that man has gone to his rest. There is the hurriedpattering here and there and everywhere, of game and vermin, or theunhurried crawl of the urchin as he issues from his bed in quest offood. Overhead the bats are flitting in and out amongst the branches ofthe trees, followed by the heavy beat of the owlet's wing, whose eyes,catlike, are gleaming like live coals in the darkness. In the distancethe sharp yelp of the fox proclaims Reynard also to be abroad and busy.
None of these sounds give uneasiness to Oswald. On the contrary, theyare to him most reassuring. He turns his gaze towards the tower, theoutlines of which are clearly marked against the starlit sky. Soon hesees a dark figure move towards the battlements, and peer over on theside on which he stands. Perhaps some sentinel keeps watch from thelonely heights whilst his comrades below are resting in peace. No; thatis no sentinel, for the figure waves something to and fro for a momentor two, then slowly sinks behind the battlements. On witnessing thesignal, Oswald quickly mounts the tree, and disappears in its cavernousrecesses. The journey along the underground passage is quicklytraversed, and he emerges on the battlements, and the muffled figure isfolded in his arms, and a loving kiss is implanted on her cheek.
"What ails you, Alice, dear? No ill news, I trust?"
"Alas! I have only ill news for you, dearest, and I know you are hardbeset without my adding other troubles to your perplexities."
"Hush, darling! Never think _your_ needs add to my perplexities. I neverfeel so like surmounting everything as when I think I live for you; tochampion your cause against all comers, and flaunt defiance in the faceof your enemies."
"I fear the championing of my cause will bring you into deadly peril,perhaps to death."
"If it does, dearest, you gave me my life when an ignominious deathawaited me. If I die in defence of you, well, I am willing, aye, morethan willing. But let us not cherish thoughts like these, for I think amerciful Providence will always reserve a blessing for one like you; solet us have faith, and never doubt the future. I am full of faith andhope. Come, tell me what new trouble distracts and disturbs your mind."
Then they sat together on an abutment, and Alice, nestling close to hervirtuous knight, told of the new complications which had arisen.
"My father has been very wroth to-day, chiding me roughly because I makenot preparations for my nuptials, and threatening my marriage to Vigneauby force."
"He is still determined, then, to press on this hateful and heathenishalliance?"
"Yes; but judge him not too harshly, dearest. I am well assured he lovesme dearly, in spite of this seeming harshness. I have seen again andagain a frown on his brow, and heard bitter words break from his lips atthe intrusion of Vigneau. I am satisfied that if it were not for thehateful power he wields over my father, I should not be forced into thisalliance. But Vigneau claims my hand as the price of peace."
"You still hate this man, and abhor a union with him, Alice, dear? Is itnot so?"
"I loathe him with my whole heart, and would rather die a hundred deathsthan marry him. But what it may be my duty to do, for my father's sake,I know not."
"And will it come to this, that, as the price of peace, you are to beoffered to this devil incarnate--to one whose hands are red with theblood of murdered men and women, and whose life is one coarse round ofbrutal indulgence?"
"The prospect is most sickening. But what can I do in an extremity likethis?"
"Rest assured, my love, you will not do that," said Oswald, drawing hissword. "Here is a trusty friend which will cut this Gordian knot, if itbe not unloosed by more peaceable means. This Vigneau owes hisvillainous life a hundred times told, for the foul crimes he hascommitted, and is committing from day to day, upon my helplesscountrymen. The sword has been hanging over him a long time, and it willfall before he claims you as his bride. Though he live to stand at thealtar with you, he shall not compass his vile ends, for I will confronthim there; and rest assured I will make sure of _him_ if it be the laststroke my trusty sword shall ever make. Drive the matter to the utmostverge of delay, and if relief come not in the meantime, it will come erethe extremity. But come now, let us think of other things, for thismatter, I see, sits like a grievous nightmare upon your spirits. I ampleased to be able to report upon the forward state of the fortress onthe hill."
"But, alas! I have ill news for you with regard to that matter. It waspartly on that account I summoned you from the hills to-night."
"What is it, dearest? Come, unburthen your mind of all troublesomematters. I can assure you, nevertheless, that we are now veryindifferent as to what steps may be taken."
"But I am afraid this will be serious. The king is now at York with alarge contingent of his men-at-arms, and a number of mercenaries, intenton quelling any attempts at insurrection on the part of the Saxons. Oneof his Bodes[2] arrived here this morning, asking for all informationwith regard to the attitude of your people. My father is having aparchment writing made out, with full particulars of your doings, andasking for help to reduce your fortress, and slay your rebelliousfollowers. I fear me if William exerts himself he will not desist, untilhe has captured your stronghold; and he will give no quarter to thosewho try to thwart him."
[Footnote 2: Messengers.]
"This is, indeed, serious news, and we must move heaven and earth toprevent this despatch reaching its destination. Do you know when themessenger will depart?"
"The day after to-morrow, I heard my father say. See, I have here a copyof the despatch. I drew it up at father's dictation."
"Many thanks, my dear. We must devise some expedient to meet thisemergency. I think I know a sly rogue who will, either by hook or crook,circumvent the king's messenger. But no time must be lost. Give me aparting kiss. Ah! get you to bed, you trembling puss,
and may sweetsleep enfold you in his gentle arms! Adieu, adieu, for a little while."