III.
How Mabel Lyndwood was taken to the Castle by Nicholas Clamp--And how they encountered Morgan Fenwolf by the way.
THE storm which had fallen so heavily on the castle had likewise visitedthe lake, and alarmed the inmates of the little dwelling on its banks.Both the forester and his grand-daughter were roused from their beds,and they sat together in the chief apartment of the cottage, listeningto the awful rolling of the thunder, and watching the blue flashing ofthe lightning. The storm was of unusually long duration, and continuedfor more than an hour with unintermitted violence. It then paused; thethunder rolled off, and the flashes of lightning grew fainter and lessfrequent. During the storm Mabel continued on her knees, addressing themost earnest prayers to the Virgin for her preservation and that ofher grandfather; but the old forester, though evidently much alarmed,uttered not a single supplication, but remained sitting in his chairwith a sullen, scared look. As the thunder died away, he recoveredhis composure, and addressed himself to soothe the fears of hisgranddaughter. In this he had partially succeeded, and was urging heragain to seek her couch, when the storm recommenced with fresh fury.Mabel once more fell on her knees, and the old man resumed his sullenposture. Another dreadful half-hour, marked by a succession of terriblepeals and vivid flashes, succeeded, when, amidst an awful pause, Mabelventured to address her old relative.
"Why do you not pray, grandfather?" she said, regarding him uneasily."Sister Anastasia and good Father Anselm always taught me to utteran Ave and cross myself during a thunderstorm. Why do you not pray,grandfather?"
"Do not trouble me. I have no fear."
"But your cheeks and lips are blanched," rejoined Mabel; "and I observedyou shudder during that last awful crash. Pray, grandfather, pray!"
"Peace, wench, and mind your own business!" returned the old manangrily. "The storm will soon be over--it cannot last long in this way."
"The saints preserve us!" cried Mabel, as a tremendous concussion washeard overhead, followed by a strong sulphureous smell. "The cottage isstruck!"
"It is--it is!" cried Tristram, springing to his feet and rushing forth.
For a few minutes Mabel continued in a state of stupefaction. She thenstaggered to the door, and beheld her grandfather occupied with two darkfigures, whom she recognised as Valentine Hagthorne and Morgan Fenwolf,in extinguishing the flames, which were bursting from the thatched roofof the hut. Surprise and terror held her silent, and the others were sobusily engaged that they did not notice her.
At last, by their united efforts, the fire was got under withoutmaterial damage to the little building, and Mabel retired, expecting hergrandsire to return; but as he did not do so, and as almost instantlyafterwards the plash of oars was heard en the lake, she flew to thewindow, and beheld him, by the gleam of the lightning, seated in theskiff with Morgan Fenwolf, while Valentine Hagthorne had mounted a blackhorse, and was galloping swiftly away. Mabel saw no more. Overcome byfright, she sank on the ground insensible. When she recovered the stormhad entirely ceased. A heavy shower had fallen, but the sky was nowperfectly clear, and day had begun to dawn. Mabel went to the door ofthe hut, and looked forth for her grandfather, but he was nowhere tobe seen. She remained gazing at the now peaceful lake till the sun hadfairly risen, when, feeling more composed, she retired to rest, andsleep, which had been banished from them during the greater part of thenight, now fell upon her lovely eyelids.
When she awoke, the day was far advanced, but still old Tristram had notreturned; and with a heavy heart she set about her household concerns.The thought, however, of her anticipated visit to the castle speedilydispelled her anxiety, and she began to make preparations for settingout, attiring herself with unusual care. Bouchier had not experiencedmuch difficulty in persuading her to obey the king's behest, and by hisartful representations he had likewise induced her grandfather to givehis consent to the visit--the old forester only stipulating that sheshould be escorted there and back by a falconer, named Nicholas Clamp,in whom he could put trust; to which proposition Bouchier readilyassented.
At length five o'clock, the appointed hour, arrived, and with it cameNicholas Clamp. He was a tall, middle-aged man, with yellow hair,clipped closely over his brows, and a beard and moustaches to match.His attire resembled that of a keeper of the forest, and consisted ofa doublet and hose of green cloth; but he did not carry a bugle orhunting-knife. His sole weapon was a stout quarter-staff. After somelittle hesitation Mabel consented to accompany the falconer, and theyset forth together.
The evening was delightful, and their way through the woods was markedby numberless points of beauty. Mabel said little, for her thoughtswere running upon her grandfather, and upon his prolonged and mysteriousabsence; but the falconer talked of the damage done by the thunderstorm,which he declared was the most awful he had ever witnessed; and hepointed out to her several trees struck by the lightning. Proceeding inthis way, they gained a road leading from Blacknest, when, from behinda large oak, the trunk of which had concealed him from view, MorganFenwolf started forth, and planted himself in their path. The gearof the proscribed keeper was wild and ragged, his locks matted anddisordered, his demeanour savage, and his whole appearance forbiddingand alarming.
"I have been waiting for you for some time, Mabel Lyndwood," he said."You must go with me to your grandfather."
"My grandfather would never send you for me," replied Mabel; "but if hedid, I will not trust myself with you."
"The saints preserve us!" cried Nicholas Clamp. "Can I believe myeyes!--do I behold Morgan Fenwolf!"
"Come with me, Mabel," cried Fenwolf, disregarding him.
But she returned a peremptory refusal.
"She shall not stir an inch!" cried the falconer. "It is thou, MorganFenwolf, who must go with me. Thou art a proscribed felon, and thy lifeis forfeit to the king. Yield thee, dog, as my prisoner!"
"Thy prisoner!" echoed Fenwolf scornfully. "It would take three such asthou art to make me captive! Mabel Lyndwood, in your grandfather's name,I command you to come with me, and let Nick Clamp look to himself if hedares to hinder you."
"Nick will do something more than hinder her," rejoined the falconer,brandishing his staff, and rushing upon the other. "Felon hound! Icommand thee to yield!"
Before the falconer could reach him, Morgan Fenwolf plucked a longhunting-knife from his girdle, and made a desperate stab at hisassailant. But Clamp avoided the blow, and striking Fenwolf on theshins, immediately afterwards closed with him.
The result was still doubtful, when the struggle was suddenlyinterrupted by the trampling of horse approaching from the side ofWindsor; and at the sound Morgan Fenwolf disengaged himself from hisantagonist and plunged into the adjoining wood. The next moment CaptainBouchier rode up, followed by a small band of halberdiers, and receivinginformation from the falconer of what had occurred, darted with hismen into the wood in search of the fugitive. Nicholas Clamp and hiscompanion did not await the issue of the search, but proceeded on theirway.
As they walked at a brisk pace, they reached the long avenue in abouthalf-an-hour, and took their way down it. When within a mile of thecastle they were overtaken by Bouchier and his followers, and thefalconer was much disappointed to learn that they had failed in trackingMorgan Fenwolf to his lair. After addressing a few complimentary wordsto the maiden, Bouchier rode on.
Soon after this the pair quitted the great park, and passing through arow of straggling houses, divided by gardens and closes, which skirtedthe foot of Castle Hill, presently reached the lower gate. They wereadmitted without difficulty; but just as they entered the lower wardthe falconer was hailed by Shoreditch and Paddington, who at the momentissued from the doorway of the guard-room.
Clamp obeyed the call and went towards them, and it was evident, fromthe gestures of the archers, that they were making inquiries aboutMabel, whose appearance seemed to interest them greatly. After a briefconversation with the falconer they approached her, and, respectfullyaddressing her, begged leave to attend her
to the royal lodgings,whither they understood she was going. No objection being made to theproposal by Mabel, the party directed their course towards the middleward.
Passing through the gateway of the Norman Tower, they stopped before alow portal in a picturesque Gothic wing of the castle, with projectingwalls and bay-windows, which had been erected in the preceding reign ofHenry the Seventh, and was consequently still in all its freshness andbeauty.
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