Set in Silver
However, I tried both, running about to look for him, here and there,
among the enchanted bracken that rustled with elf-life, while the
shadows came alive, and the rosy light died.
"Puppy, puppy!" I implored, helplessly drifting; and then, to my
surprise--can you "find" that you've lost a thing? Well, I don't know
how else to express it. I found that I'd lost the path. If I'd only been
able to remember whether the hotel were north or south, or east or west
of Rufus's Stone, maybe it would have been all right; but does any
normal girl ever give thought to points of the compass? I yelled a
little more, hoping the puppy would be gentleman enough to come back to
a lady in distress, and luckily Sir Lionel heard my howls. He'd come out
to look for me, on learning from the landlord that I'd gone to Rufus's
Stone, with the puppy, and he had met it--not the stone, but the
puppy--looking sneaky and ashamed. Just then, my voice gave him an idea
of my whereabouts, otherwise we should probably have missed; and if we
had, I don't know what I _should_ have done, so you mustn't scold at
what happened next. Remember the New Forest is not a French pension full
of old maids, but fairyland--fairyland.
He was in evening dress, without a hat, and I _was_ pleased to see him,
because I was beginning to be the tiniest bit afraid; and he did look so
nice; and I was _so_ glad he wasn't Dick Burden. But don't worry! I
didn't tell him that.
It seems he came downstairs rather early for dinner, and the landlord
mentioned that I'd gone out, so he strolled along, thinking to meet me
after walking a few yards. When he didn't, he thought he'd better keep
on, because it was too late for me to be out of doors alone.
I was apologetic, and afraid it must be long past dinner-time; but he
said I needn't mind that, as he had left word for the others not to wait
after eight-fifteen.
Then in a few minutes I began to realize that we might have an
adventure, because when I called, and Sir Lionel hurried on in quest of
me, he'd forgotten to notice the landmarks. It did seem ridiculous to
have trouble in finding the way, so short a distance from the hotel; but
you can't conceive how misleading it is in the New Forest. It's like a
part of the enchantment; and if we had been in the maze of the Minotaur,
without Ariadne's clue, we couldn't have been more bewildered than we
soon found ourselves, tangled in the veil of twilight.
"I wonder if birds will cover us with leaves?" I said, laughing, when we
had made up our minds that we were lost. But it seemed more likely that,
if any creature paid us this thoughtful attention, it would be bats. As
night fell in the Forest, they unhooked themselves from their mysterious
trapezes, and whirred past our faces with a soft flap, flap of velvet
wings. I don't know what I should have done if one had made a
halfway-house of my hair!
"Are you hungry?" Sir Lionel wanted to know.
I said that I was, but wouldn't harrow him up by explaining that I was
ravenous.
He didn't appear even to _want_ to scold, though it would have been easy
to hint politely that it would be my own fault if we didn't get any
dinner that night--or, perhaps, breakfast next morning. Instead of being
cross with me, he blamed himself for being stupid enough to lose me. I
exonerated him, and we were extremely nice to each other; but as we
walked on and on, round and round, seeing no lights anywhere, or hearing
anything except that wonderful sound of a great silence, I began to grow
tired. I didn't mean, though, that he should see it. _I_ had enough to
be ashamed of, without that, but he knew by instinct, and took my hand
to draw it through his arm, telling me to lean as heavily as I liked. I
held back at first, saying it wasn't necessary; and insisting, as I
pulled away, his hand closed down on mine tightly. It was only for a
second or two, because I gave up at once, and let him lay my hand on his
arm as he wished. But, do you know, mother, I think I ought to tell you
it felt quite differently from any other hand that ever touched mine.
Of course I haven't even shaken hands with many men since I've been
grown up, though if you'd let me be a singer I shouldn't have thought
any more about it than if I were President of the United States. One
reads in novels of "the electricity in a touch," and all that; but
there it generally means that you're falling in love. And I can't
possibly be falling in love with Ellaline's Dragon, can I? I don't
suppose that can be. It would be too stupid, and forward, and altogether
unspeakable. But really, I do feel differently about him from any way I
ever felt before toward anybody. I have always said that I'd rather be
alone with myself than with anyone else except you, for any length of
time, because I'm such good chums with myself, and enjoy thinking my own
thoughts. But I _do_ like being with Sir Lionel. I feel excited and
eager at the thought of being with him. And his fingers on mine--and my
hand on his arm--and the touch of his sleeve--and a faint little, almost
imperceptible scent of Egyptian cigarettes mixing with the woodsy smell
of the night--oh, I don't know how to describe it to myself. So now you
know as much as I do. But wouldn't it be dreadful if I should go and
fall in love with Sir Lionel Pendragon of all other men in the world? In
a few more weeks I shall be slipping out of his life forever; and not
only that, but I shall be leaving a very evil memory behind. He will
despise me. I shall have proved myself exactly the sort of person he
abominates.
I didn't think all that, however, as he put my hand on his arm. I just
felt the thrill of it; but instead of worrying, I was happy, and didn't
care how tired and hungry I was, or whether we ever got anywhere or not.
As for him, he was too polite to let me know he was bored, and all the
time we were looking for the hotel the night was so beautiful, so
wonderful, that we couldn't help talking of exquisite things, telling
each other thoughts neither of us would have spoken aloud in daylight.
It was quite dark now, except for a kind of rosy quivering of light
along the horizon, and the stars that had come out like a bright army of
fairies, with millions of scintillating spears.
I knew then, dearest, that he was no dragon, no matter what
circumstantial evidence may have been handed down to Ellaline as a
legacy from her dead mother. That is something to have divined by the
magic of the forest, isn't it, after I've been puzzling so long? There
is now not the least doubt in my mind. So if I should be silly and
sentimental enough to fancy myself in love, it can't do any harm, except
to make me a little sorry and sad after I've come home to you. It won't
be anything to be _ashamed_ of, to have cared about a man like Sir
Lionel; because I assure you I shan't behave foolishly, no matter how I
may eventually feel. You can trust your Audrie for that.
It was too dark to tell the time by a watch, but we remarked to each
other that they must have finished dinner long ago; and Sir Lionel hoped
this wouldn't spoil the memory of my birthday for me.
"Oh, no," said I, before I thought, "it will make it better. I shall
never, never forget this."
"Nor I," said he, in a pleasant, quiet tone.
Then he went on to tell me that he had a little birthday remembrance
which all day he'd been wanting to give me. It was a ruby ring, because
the ruby was July's stone, but I needn't wear it unless I liked. He
hoped I wouldn't mind his having disobeyed me when I said I wanted
nothing, because he wished very much to give it to me. And having lived
alone, and ordered his own and other people's affairs for so long, had
accustomed him to having his own way. Would I be kind to him, and accept
his present?
I couldn't say no, under those stars and in that enchantment. So I
answered that I would take the ring--knowing all the while I must soon
hand it over to Ellaline.
"Shall I give it to you now?" he asked, "or will you wait till
to-morrow?"
I did want to see it, though it was to be only borrowed! "Now," said I.
Then he took a ring from some pocket, and tried to slip it over a finger
of the hand on his arm.
"Oh, but that's the engaged finger," I burst out.
Silly of me! I might have let him put it on, and changed it afterward.
"I beg your pardon," said he, almost as if he were startled. "That will
be a younger man's privilege some day, and then you will be taken away
from me."
"You will be glad to get rid of me, I should think," I hurried to say,
stretching out my other hand, and letting him slip the ring on the third
finger.
"Should you think so?" he echoed. "I suppose you have the right to feel
that, after the past. But don't feel it. Don't, child."
That was all, and I didn't answer. I couldn't; for what he had said was
for Ellaline, not for me. Yet it made my heart beat, his voice was so
sincere, and fuller of emotion than I'd ever heard it yet.
Just then, into our darkness a light seemed to flash. We both saw it
together. I thought it might be the hotel, but Sir Lionel said he feared
it was more probably the window of some remote cottage or charcoal-burner's
hut.
We walked toward it, and that was what it was: a charcoal-burner's hut.
Sir Lionel must have been disappointed, because he wanted to get me
home, but _I_ wasn't. I was in such a mood that I was not ready for the
adventure to come to an end.
The next bit of the adventure was exactly suited to the New Forest, and
we couldn't have experienced it anywhere else.
The hut was a tiny, wattled shed, and the light we'd seen came through
the low, open doorway. It was the light of a fire and a candle; and
there was a delicious aromatic smell of wood smoke in the air. Sir
Lionel explained, as we walked up to the place, that some of these huts
were hundreds of years old, remnants of the time when debtors and
robbers and criminals of all sorts used to hide in the forest under the
protection of the malfays. As he spoke, we almost stumbled over some
obstacle in the dark, and he said that very likely it was the hearth of
a vanished cottage. People had the right to leave the hearth if their
house were torn down, to establish "cottage rights"; and there were a
good many such, still scattered through the forest, even in the gardens
of modern houses; for no one dared take them away.
The charcoal-burner was "at home," and receiving. He was engaged in
cooking eggs and bacon for his supper, and if you could only guess how
good they smelled! Nothing smells as nice as eggs and bacon when you are
hungry, and we were ravenous.
Most things as old as that charcoal-burner are in museums; and his eyes
were so close together it seemed as if they might run into one when he
winked. Also, he was deaf, so we had to roar to him, before he could
understand what had happened. When he did understand, though, he was a
thorough trump, and said we could have his supper if we "would be
pleased to eat it." Bread and cheese would do for him. And we might have
tea, if we could take it without milk.
But there were three eggs, and three strips of bacon, so we insisted
that we must share and share alike, or we would have nothing. I made the
tea, in a battered tin pot which looked like an heirloom, and we all sat
at an uncovered kitchen table together, though our host protested. It
was fun; and the old thing told us weird tales of the forest which made
me conscious that I have a spine and marrow, just as certain wild music
does. His name is Purkess; he thinks he is descended from Purkess, the
charcoal-burner who found the body of William Rufus; and his ancestors,
some of whom were smugglers and poachers, have lived in the forest for a
thousand years. He was so old that he could remember as a child hearing