Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
the subject, but remained equally silent when he was condemned or
praised, the conviction forced itself upon her that he was the object
of injustice; and where is the woman's heart without that latent
chivalry which instantly takes arms in favour of the oppressed?
Thus went on the history of Lucy's love till that reconciliation was
brought about between the families, of which we have already spoken.
Circumstances then led them into frequent communication, and a great
change took place in her father's opinion of the young lord. He made no
longer any difficulty of acknowledging that Hugh was one of the most
distinguished gentlemen of the day; and though her brother Alured did
not forget his enmity so easily--for in his case there was a touch of
envious jealousy in it--yet he suffered the motives too plainly to
appear; and Lucy, seeing, esteeming, and admiring, had always ready a
champion in her own breast to defend the cause of Hugh de Monthermer.
Had anything been wanting to lead her onward to that state in which the
whole heart is given--where there is no retreat, and where all other
sensations are swallowed up in love--some of the events of the first
few months succeeding the reconciliation of the two families would have
speedily furnished it.
For some time Hugh de Monthermer paid only such attention to Lucy de
Ashby as the courtesy of the day required. She was certainly
surprised--perhaps a little disappointed, that the only man for whose
admiration she had ever wished, should not at once be captivated by her
beauty, as others had been. Many a woman, under such circumstances,
would have thrown out every lure, would have used every art to win his
attention; but Lucy did not so: she retired to her own chamber, and
fell into deep meditation. "He may love some one else," she said to
herself, and as she said so, she felt inclined to weep; but she
repressed her tears, and determined never to let her thoughts rest for
a moment upon him again. She chid herself for unwomanly rashness, even
for the preference she felt; but with poor Lucy the time for good
resolutions or self-chiding to be of any avail, was past. She loved
already--loved truly, and those who have so loved, well know that, like
the garment imbued with the blood of Nessus, true affection, when once
it clothes the human heart, can never be torn off, and that even in the
effort to do so the very veins and flesh are rent away along with it.
She was not destined long to suffer any doubt, however: a single day
brought her relief, and changed sorrow into joy. The Earl of Monthermer
and his nephew were then at her father's castle of Lindwell, enjoying
the sports of the brown autumn, and cementing the newly-revived
friendship between the two houses in the intimate communication of
domestic life. The day after she had indulged in the melancholy
thoughts, and made all the vain resolutions, and addressed to her own
heart the idle reproaches we have mentioned, Hugh and Lucy were seated
next each other at the table, and at first their conversation was cold
and commonplace. At length, however, as so often happens, something was
said--some accidental word--some mere casual observation--some
sentence, apparently as light as air, but accompanied by smile, or
glance, or tone, indicative of feelings deeper than the words implied,
and the heart of each seemed to open to the other as if by magic.
I recollect once visiting a house where the scenery around appeared
tame and monotonous enough. The rooms were stately, fine pictures hung
upon the walls, and many objects of art and interest lay scattered
round, but still when one looked forth there was nothing beautiful
before the eye, till suddenly, in a dark, dull chamber, in a remote
part of the mansion, a servant drew back a blind from a small window,
and one of the most magnificent scenes in nature burst instantly upon
the view.
What it was that Lucy de Ashby said to Hugh de Monthermer I know not,
but it drew back the veil from her heart and showed him a new world,
such as he had never dreamt was near at hand. He had certainly not been
without warm admiration of her beauty: he had felt its power, and
somewhat dreaded its effects; but the master spell was now added, and
the harmony between her person and her mind left him no power to
resist. His whole manner towards her changed at once; admiration and
regard were thenceforward in every look and in bright interchange of
thoughts and feelings; and when Lucy laid her head down upon her
pillow, her brain reeled with the memory of a thousand sweet sensations
crowded into the short space of a few hours.
Her brother was absent--there is reason to believe purposely--and on
the following day her father's horse fell in the chase and injured him,
though not dangerously. It was Hugh who brought her the tidings, who
soothed her apprehensions, who calmed and consoled her, and every hour
added something to the intimacy that grew up between them. They rode
forth in the woods together, they walked side by side upon the
battlements; and, though the words of love that might be spoken, were
all vague and shadowy, yet each understood the feelings of the other;
and Hugh only waited till the friendship of their houses should be more
confirmed, to demand the hand of Lucy as a new bond of union between
their families.
The man who delays even for an hour in love is a fool, or has no
experience. The latter was the case of Hugh de Monthermer. Had he asked
for Lucy de Ashby then, the old Earl would have granted her to him at
once; but in a few days Alured de Ashby returned, bringing his cousin
Richard with him; and it soon became evident to the lover that the
favourable moment was past for the time.
Such is the history of the affection which had grown up between Hugh
and Lucy to the time when last they parted. Some months had intervened,
and it may well be supposed that it was not a little soothing to the
sweet girl's heart to mark that strain of tenderness which, as we have
said, ran through the whole of Hugh de Monthermer's story. So pleasant
was it, indeed, that for a short time the disappointment of her hopes
of deliverance was forgotten in the gratification of other feelings.
She paused and mused; but at length her mind reverted to the more
painful consideration. She at once saw, when she reflected on all he
had just told her, that Hugh was bound by his promise to the Outlaw to
take no step whatever to set her free. He had sworn that all he beheld
and heard there should be to him as if it were not; and Lucy herself
had too much of the chivalrous spirit in her nature to wish that one
she loved should ever evade, even were it possible, the sincere
execution of an engagement he had formed. She looked in his face for a
moment or two in silence, and in the end asked him simply, "What then
do you intend to do?"
"Good faith, dear lady," he replied, "I see but one thing to be done,
which is, as I cannot take you away with me, to stay here with you;
and, if this terrible enchanter of Sherwood will not set you free, why
we must spend our days here under the green leaves, chasing the wild
deer, and singing the hours away."
Lucy smiled gaily, for the images were not unpleasant ones that Hugh de
Monthermer's reply called up. She thought it would be a very happy
life; and if those sad bonds of circumstances which continually tie
down the noblest energies of the mind and the best, and strongest
feelings of the heart had permitted it, she would willingly have cast
off high rank and station, and all the gawds and gewgaws of society, to
remain with Hugh de Monthermer in the forest of Sherwood and pass the
rest of her days in low estate.
His reply threw her into a new fit of musing, however, and their
farther conversation was interrupted, for the moment, by the pretty
maid, Cicely, calling their attention to the supper, which was spread
upon the table. The two lovers sat down side by side; Lucy's maidens
took their seats opposite, and the meal passed over partly in gay,
partly in serious conversation; but, between Lucy and Hugh, there was
of course a degree of restraint from the presence of others, which was
sufficiently evident to those who caused it.
There is a general sympathy in every woman's heart for love, but, of
course, that sympathy is more active in the young, who feel, than in
the old, who only remember the passion. With unchilled hearts ready to
thrill at the first touch, Lucy de Ashby's two maids having so lately
been enlightened fully in regard to their mistress's feelings for Hugh
de Monthermer, were only anxious for an excuse to leave the lady and
her lover alone; and not finding any ready to their hand, they
dispensed with all pretexts whatever, first the one and then the other
quitting the room, and betaking themselves to the sleeping-chamber
which had been assigned to them and their lady.
There can be but little doubt that Lucy was well satisfied with their
departure; but yet a sort of timid panic took possession of her, and
she had well-nigh called them back. The next moment she smiled at her
own fears, and would have given a great deal to renew the conversation,
which had come to a sudden halt, upon some indifferent topic; but words
were wanting, and Lucy sat with the colour a little heightened in her
cheek, and the silky fringes of her soft dark eyes drooping so as to
veil half their light.
Hugh de Monthermer gazed at her with admiration and love, and although
he felt very certain that she was not without her share of tenderness
towards him, he determined to make "assurance double sure," and not
lose the opportunity which fortune had presented.
"Well, Lucy," he said, breaking the long pause at length, "as I cannot
deliver you, shall I remain with you to protect you?"
"Assuredly!" she answered, covering a certain degree of agitation with
a gay look, "you are a faithless knight, even to dream of quitting a
lady in this enchanted castle! Did you not say that you were to stay
here; and that we were to live a woodland life--chasing the wild deer,
and making the groves and dells echo with our horns? I declare it is
quite delightful to think of!"
"And you are to be my lady, and I am to be your knight?" asked the
lover. "Is it not so, Lucy?"
"To be sure!" replied his fair companion. "I will have you my most
devoted servant, as in duty bound. You shall train my hawks for me, and
teach my dogs, and ride by my side, and be ever ready to couch your
lance in my defence. In short, as I have said, you shall be my very
humble servant on all occasions."
"And nothing more?" inquired Hugh de Monthermer. "May I not sometimes
have a dearer title?" Lucy blushed deeply and was silent, and Hugh de
Monthermer went on; "May I not be called your lover, Lucy?--may I not
some time, perhaps, be called your husband? Dear girl," he continued,
taking her hand, which trembled a little in his,--"Dear girl, if we are
to remain here, depend upon it, we shall soon have to look for a priest
in the forest. What say you, Lucy, shall it be so?"
Lucy crushed a bright drop through her eyelashes, and giving her pretty
brow a wild fawnlike shake, she turned her glowing face towards him
with a look of gay daring, saying, "I dare say we could find one, Hugh,
if it were needful."
Her lover drew her somewhat nearer to him, whispering a few low words
in her ear.
"Hush, hush!" she said, "be satisfied, I will tell you no more!"
"But listen, dearest Lucy," said Hugh de Monthermer, "we have here a
few moments to ourselves: it may be long ere we have the same again. It
is right that we should clearly understand how we are placed. I love
you, dearest Lucy, as well as woman was ever loved! Do you believe me?"
"I dare say you do," replied Lucy, laughing, "I think it is quite