Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
She paused and thought for several minutes, and as she did so, it would
seem, the fears and apprehensions, the doubts and anxieties, that dog
the steps of sin, the hell-hounds that are ever ready to fall upon
their prey the moment that lassitude overtakes it on its onward course,
seized upon the heart of poor Kate Greenly with their envenomed teeth.
Yes, you may struggle on, poor thing; you may burst away, for an
instant, from the fangs that hold, you may get a fresh start and run
on, thinking that you have distanced them, but those fell pursuers,
Fear and Apprehension, Doubt and Anxiety, are still behind you, and
shall hunt you unto death!
They were now, for the first time, tearing the sides of their victim;
and the shapes they assumed may be discovered by the words that broke
from her in her mental agony--"He will never surely abandon me!--he
will never surely ill-treat me! after all that he has promised, after
all that he has told me, after all that he has sworn! He will never
surely be so base, so utterly base!--and yet why has he not come on
with me? Why, after two poor days' companionship, send me on with
serving-men? If he needs must to London, why not take me with him?--But
no," she continued, soothing herself with fond hopes, "no, it cannot
be; he has some weighty business on hand requiring instant dispatch.
Doubtless his journey was too swift and fatiguing for a woman.--Oh,
yes, he will come back to me soon.--Perhaps he is already at his
castle--perhaps I may see him to-morrow:" and she clapped her pretty
hands with joy at the happiness which imagination had called up.
At that moment, however, by one of those strange turns of thought which
the mind sometimes suddenly takes, whether we will or not--like a bird
struggling away from the hand that would hold it--the image of poor
Ralph Harland rose up before her, and the satisfaction she felt at the
idea of again seeing her seducer, seemed to contrast itself painfully
in imagination with the anguish which he must endure at never beholding
more the object of his earliest love, and knowing that she was in the
arms of another.
"What," she asked herself, "what would be my own feelings under such
circumstances?" and the answer which naturally sprang to her lips from
the eager and passionate heart that beat within her bosom, was, "I
should kill some one and die!"
The contemplation, however, was too painful; she would think of it no
more. Sorrow and repentance had not yet sufficiently taken hold of her,
to render it difficult for Kate Greenly to cast away thought with the
usual lightness of her nature, and she answered the reproaches of
conscience, as usually happens, with a falsehood.
"Oh, he will soon find some one to console him!" she said; and for fear
of her own better judgment convicting her of an untruth, she hastened
to employ herself on the trifles of the toilet, and to seek in sleep
that repose of heart which her waking hours were never more to know.
But there was a thorn in her pillow too, and her nights had lost no
small portion of their peace.
The following morning dawned bright and clear, and Kate Greenly's state
of mind was changed. Fears and apprehensions, self-reproach and regret,
had vanished with the shades of night. The stillness, the darkness, the
solitude--those powerful encouragers of sad thoughts--were gone; the
busy, bustling, sunshiny day was present; she heard songs coming up
from the streets, she heard voices talking and laughing below; all the
sounds and sights of merry life were around her; and her heart took the
top of the wave, and bounded onward in the light of hope. Her only
care, as she dressed herself in the morning, was, how she should meet
the keen grey eye of the Friar; but that was soon resolved. She would
frown upon him, she thought; she would treat him with silent contempt,
and doubtless he would not dare to say another word, for fear of
calling upon himself chastisement from her two attendants.
She was spared all trouble upon the subject, however, for the friar had
departed before daybreak. She had sent him no answer by the hostess,
and her silence was answer enough.
After a hasty meal the light-o'-love and those who accompanied her once
more set out upon their way, and rode on some fifteen miles down the
Wye without stopping. Not that the two serving-men would not willingly
have paused, at one of the little towns they passed, to let the fair
companion of their journey take some repose; but Kate herself was eager
to proceed. Hope and expectation were busy at her heart--hope, that
like a moth, flies on to burn itself to death in the flame of
disappointment.
At length, upon a high woody bank, showing a bold craggy face towards
the river--the reader who has travelled that way may know it, for a
little country church now crowns the trees--appeared a small
castellated tower, with one or two cottages seeking protection beneath
its walls. The serving-man who rode beside her pointed forward with his
hand, as they passed over a slight slope in the ground, which first
presented this object to their sight, saying, "There is the castle,
Madam."
Kate looked forward, and her eyes sparkled; and in a few minutes more
they were entering the archway under the building.
The castle was smaller than she expected to see it. It was, in fact,
merely one of those strong towers which had been built about a century
before, for the protection of the Norman encroachers upon that fair
portion of the island, into which the earliest known possessors of the
whole land had been driven by the sword of various invaders. Many of
these towers, with a small territory round them, had fallen into the
possession of the younger sons of noble families; upon the mere tenure
of defending them against the attacks of the enemy; and although the
incursions of the Welsh upon the English lands were now much less
frequent than they had been some time before, the lords of these small
castles had often to hold them out against the efforts of other still
more formidable assailants.
It mattered not to Kate, however, whether the place was large or small:
how furnished or decorated was the same to her. It was _his_
castle--_his_, to whom all her thoughts and feelings were now given;
and she looked upon it but as the home of love and joy, where all the
hours of the future were to be passed.
Her disappointments began almost at the threshold. An old warder who
let them in, not only said in a rough tone, that Sir Richard de Ashby
had not yet arrived, but gazed over the form of the female visitor with
a look of harsh and somewhat sullen displeasure. He murmured something
to himself too, the greater part of which she did not hear, but words
that sounded like--"This new leman," caught her ear, and made her
start, while a thrill of agony indescribable passed through her bosom
at the thought of a name which might but too justly be applied to her.
The eyes of two or three archers, however, who were hanging about the
gate, were upon her, as she knew; and, fancying that the same term
might be in their hearts also, she hurried on after the old warder, who
said he would show her the chamber which had been prepared for her by
his master's orders.
She found it convenient, and fitted up with every comfort, some of the
articles being evidently new; and she concluded, with love's eager
credulity, that these objects had been sent down to decorate her
apartment, and make every thing look gay and cheerful in her eyes. She
was well used also; but still, amongst the men who surrounded her,
there was a want of that respect, which, although she knew she had
fairly forfeited all claim to it, she was angry and grieved not to
obtain. She had fancied, in her idle vanity, that the concubine of a
man of rank would approach, in a degree at least, to the station of his
wife; and she now consoled herself with believing that she could easily
induce Richard de Ashby, if not to punish such want of reverence, at
least to put a stop to it. But day passed by, after day, without the
appearance of him for whom she had sacrificed all; and melancholy
memories and vain regrets kept pouring upon her mind more and more
strongly, till she could hardly bear the weight of her own thoughts.
At length, one day, towards eventide, she saw, as she wandered round
the battlements, which were left unguarded, a small party of horsemen
coming up over the hill; and, with impatience which would brook no
restraint, she ran down to meet him who, she was convinced, was now
approaching. The old warder would have prevented her from passing the
gate, but she bade him stand back in so stern and peremptory a tone
that he gave way: for few are the minds upon which the assumption of
authority does not produce some effect.
Kate Greenly was not mistaken. The party consisted of her seducer, and
four or five soldiers, whom he had obtained at Hereford, for the
purpose of strengthening his little garrison, war being by this time
imminent, and the post that he held considered of some importance.
Richard de Ashby sprang down from his horse to meet her, and kissed her
repeatedly, with many expressions of tenderness and affection. It is
true, he spoke to her lightly; called her "Pretty one," and used those
terms with which he might have fondled a child, but which he would
never have thought of employing to a woman he much respected. To other
ears, this might have marked the difference between Kate Greenly's real
situation, and that which fancy almost taught her to believe was hers;
but poor Kate saw it not; for happiness swallowed up all other feeling.
He was with her--he was kind--he was affectionate--she was no longer a
solitary being, without love, or joy, or occupation, or self-respect,
and that evening, and the next day, and the next, passed over in
happiness, which obliterated every sensation of remorse for the past or
apprehension for the future.
Gradually, however, a change came over Richard de Ashby; he lost some
of his tenderness--he now and then spoke angrily--he would be out on
horseback the whole day, and return at night, tired, imperious and
irritable. Kate tried to soothe him, but tried in vain. He uttered
harsh and unkind words--he laughed at her tears--he turned from her
caresses.
It were painful to pursue and recapitulate the very well-known course
of the events which, in nine cases out of ten, follow such conduct as
she had adopted. The retribution was beginning. The pangs of
ill-requited affection, of betrayed confidence, and of disappointed
hope, rapidly took possession of the young, light, wilful heart, which
had inflicted the same on others; and, in the gentler paroxysms of her
grief, Kate would sit and think of young Ralph Harland, and his true
love, of the father she had deceived and disgraced, of the happy scenes
of her childhood and her youth, her village companions, her innocent
sports, the flowers gathered in the early morning, and the Maypole on
the green.
Of all these she would think, I say, in the gentler moments of her
sorrow, and would sit and weep for many an hour together. But there
were other times, when a fiercer and a haughtier mood would come upon
her, when disappointed vanity and irritated pride would raise their
voice, as well as injured love; and dark and passionate thoughts would
pass through her mind, sometimes flashing forth fiery schemes of
vengeance, like lightning from a cloud, soon swallowed up in the
obscurity again. An angry word, also, would often break from her when
she saw herself trifled with, or neglected, or ill-treated, but it only
excited a mocking laugh, or some insulting answer. It seemed, indeed,
as if Richard de Ashby took a pleasure in seeing her fair face and
beautiful figure wrought by strong passion; for, when he beheld her