by John Buchan
CHAPTER X.
OF MY DEPARTURE.
I passed through the kitchen out to the stable, marking as I went that thebreakfast was ready laid in the sitting room. There I saddled Saladin,grown sleek by fat living, and rolling his great eyes at me wonderingly. Itested the joinings, buckled the girth tight, and led him round to thefront of the house, where I tethered him to a tree and entered the door.
A savory smell of hot meats came from the room and a bright wood firedrove away the grayness of the morning. Anne stood by the table, slicing aloaf and looking ever and anon to the entrance. Her face was pale as ifwith sleeplessness and weeping. Her hair was not so daintily arranged aswas her wont. It seemed almost as if she had augured the future. A strangecatch--coming as such songs do from nowhere and meaning nothing--ranconstantly in my head. 'Twas one of Philippe Desportes', that very songwhich the Duke de Guise sang just before his death. So, as I entered, Ifound myself humming half unwittingly:
"Nous verrons, berg'ere Rosette, Qui premier s'en repentira."
Anne looked up as if startled at my coming, and when she saw my dressglanced fearfully at my face. It must have told her some tale, for a redflush mounted to her brow and abode there.
I picked up a loaf from the table. 'Twas my one sacrifice to the gods ofhospitality. 'Twould serve, I thought, for the first stage in my journey.
Anne looked up at me with a kind of confused wonder. She laughed, but therewas little mirth in her laughter.
"Why, what would you do with the loaf?" said she. "Do you seek to visit thewidows and fatherless in their affliction?"
"Nay," said I gravely. "I would but keep myself unspotted from theworld."
All merriment died out of her face.
"And what would you do?" she stammered.
"The time has come for me to leave, Mistress Anne. My horse is saddled atthe door. I have been here long enough; ay, and too long. I thank you withall my heart for your kindness, and I would seek to repay it by ridding youof my company."
I fear I spoke harshly, but 'twas to hide my emotion, which bade fair tooverpower me and ruin all.
"Oh, and why will you go?" she cried.
"Farewell, Anne," I said, looking at her fixedly, and I saw that shedivined the reason.
I turned on my heel, and went out from the room.
"Oh, my love," she cried passionately, "stay with me; stay, oh, stay!"
Her voice rang in my ear with honeyed sweetness, like that of the Sirens toUlysses of old.
"Stay!" she cried, as I flung open the house-door.
I turned me round for one last look at her whom I loved better than life.She stood at the entrance to the room, with her arms outstretched and herwhite bosom heaving. Her eyes were filled with an utterable longing,which a man may see but once in his life--and well for him if he never seesit. Her lips were parted as if to call me back once more. But no word came;her presence was more powerful than any cry.
I turned to the weather. A gray sky, a driving mist, and a chill piercingblast. The contrast was almost more than my resolution. An irresistibleimpulse seized me to fly to her arms, to enter the bright room again withher, and sell myself, body and soul, to the lady of my heart.
My foot trembled to the step backward, my arms all but felt her weight,when that blind Fate which orders the ways of men intervened. Against myinclination and desire, bitterly, unwilling, I strode to my horse and flungmyself on his back. I dared not look behind, but struck spurs into Saladinand rode out among the trees.
A fierce north wind met me in the teeth, and piercing through my tatters,sent a shiver to my very heart.
I cannot recall my thoughts during that ride: I seem not to have thought atall. All I know is that in about an hour there came into my mind, as from avoice, the words: "Recreant! Fool!" and I turned back.
THE END.
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