Part 4 (1/2)

The two sisters pursued their walk along a scene which might well be favoured by their selection. No sooner had they crossed the stile, than the village seemed vanished into earth; so quiet, so lonely, so far from the evidence of life was the landscape through which they pa.s.sed. On their right, sloped a green and silent hill, shutting out all view beyond itself, save the deepening and twilight sky; to the left, and immediately along their road lay fragments of stone, covered with moss, or shadowed by wild shrubs, that here and there, gathered into copses, or breaking abruptly away from the rich sod, left frequent s.p.a.ces through which you caught long vistas of forestland, or the brooklet gliding in a noisy and rocky course, and breaking into a thousand tiny waterfalls, or mimic eddies. So secluded was the scene, and so unwitnessing of cultivation, that you would not have believed that a human habitation could be at hand, and this air of perfect solitude and quiet gave an additional charm to the spot.

”But I a.s.sure you,” said Ellinor, earnestly continuing a conversation they had begun, ”I a.s.sure you I was not mistaken, I saw it as plainly as I see you.”

”What, in the breast pocket?”

”Yes, as he drew out his handkerchief, I saw the barrel of the pistol quite distinctly.”

”Indeed, I think we had better tell my father as soon as we get home; it may be as well to be on our guard, though robbery, I believe, has not been heard of in Gra.s.sdale for these twenty years.”

”Yet for what purpose, save that of evil, could he in these peaceable times and this peaceable country, carry fire arms about him. And what a countenance! Did you note the shy, and yet ferocious eye, like that of some animal, that longs, yet fears to spring upon you.”

”Upon my word, Ellinor,” said Madeline, smiling, ”you are not very merciful to strangers. After all, the man might have provided himself with the pistol which you saw as a natural precaution; reflect that, as a stranger, he may well not know how safe this district usually is, and he may have come from London, in the neighbourhood of which they say robberies have been frequent of late. As to his looks, they are I own unpardonable; for so much ugliness there can be no excuse. Had the man been as handsome as our cousin Walter, you would not perhaps have been so uncharitable in your fears at the pistol.”

”Nonsense, Madeline,” said Ellinor, blus.h.i.+ng, and turning away her face;--there was a moment's pause, which the younger sister broke.

”We do not seem,” said she, ”to make much progress in the friends.h.i.+p of our singular neighbour. I never knew my father court any one so much as he has courted Mr. Aram, and yet, you see how seldom he calls upon us; nay, I often think that he seeks to shun us; no great compliment to our attractions, Madeline.”

”I regret his want of sociability, for his own sake,” said Madeline, ”for he seems melancholy as well as thoughtful, and he leads so secluded a life, that I cannot but think my father's conversation and society, if he would but encourage it, might afford some relief to his solitude.”

”And he always seems,” observed Ellinor, ”to take pleasure in my father's conversation, as who would not? how his countenance lights up when he converses! it is a pleasure to watch it. I think him positively handsome when he speaks.”

”Oh, more than handsome!” said Madeline, with enthusiasm, ”with that high, pale brow, and those deep, unfathomable eyes!”

Ellinor smiled, and it was now Madeline's turn to blush.

”Well,” said the former, ”there is something about him that fills one with an indescribable interest; and his manner, if cold at times, is yet always so gentle.”

”And to hear him converse,” said Madeline, ”it is like music. His thoughts, his very words, seem so different from the language and ideas of others. What a pity that he should ever be silent!”

”There is one peculiarity about his gloom, it never inspires one with distrust,” said Ellinor; ”if I had observed him in the same circ.u.mstances as that ill-omened traveller, I should have had no apprehension.”

”Ah! that traveller still runs in your head. If we were to meet him in this spot.”

”Heaven forbid!” cried Ellinor, turning hastily round in alarm--and, lo!

as if her sister had been a prophet, she saw the very person in question at some little distance behind them, and walking on with rapid strides.

She uttered a faint shriek of surprise and terror, and Madeline, looking back at the sound, immediately partic.i.p.ated in her alarm. The spot looked so desolate and lonely, and the imagination of both had been already so worked upon by Ellinor's fears, and their conjectures respecting the ill-boding weapon she had witnessed, that a thousand apprehensions of outrage and murder crowded at once upon the minds of the two sisters. Without, however, giving vent in words to their alarm, they, as by an involuntary and simultaneous suggestion, quickened their pace, every moment stealing a glance behind, to watch the progress of the suspected robber. They thought that he also seemed to accelerate his movements; and this observation increased their terror, and would appear indeed to give it some more rational ground. At length, as by a sudden turn of the road they lost sight of the dreaded stranger, their alarm suggested to them but one resolution, and they fairly fled on as fast as the fear which actuated, would allow, them. The nearest, and indeed the only house in that direction, was Aram's, but they both imagined if they could come within sight of that, they should be safe. They looked back at every interval; now they did not see their fancied pursuer--now he emerged again into view--now--yes--he also was running.

”Faster, faster, Madeline, for G.o.d's sake! he is gaining upon us!” cried Ellinor: the path grew more wild, and the trees more thick and frequent; at every cl.u.s.ter that marked their progress they saw the Stranger closer and closer; at length, a sudden break,--a sudden turn in the landscape;--a broad plain burst upon them, and in the midst of it the Student's solitary abode!

”Thank G.o.d, we are safe!” cried Madeline. She turned once more to look for the Stranger; in so doing, her foot struck against a fragment of stone, and she fell with great violence to the ground. She endeavoured to rise, but found herself, at first, unable to stir from the spot.

In this state she looked, however, back, and saw the Traveller at some little distance. But he also halted, and after a moment's seeming deliberation, turned aside, and was lost among the bushes.

With great difficulty Ellinor now a.s.sisted Madeline to rise; her ancle was violently sprained, and she could not put her foot to the ground; but though she had evinced so much dread at the apparition of the stranger, she now testified an almost equal degree of fort.i.tude in bearing pain.

”I am not much hurt, Ellinor,” she said, faintly smiling, to encourage her sister, who supported her in speechless alarm: ”but what is to be done? I cannot use this foot; how shall we get home?”

”Thank G.o.d, if you are not much hurt!” said poor Ellinor, almost crying, ”lean on me--heavier--pray. Only try and reach the house, and we can then stay there till Mr. Aram sends home for the carriage.”

”But what will he think? how strange it will seem!” said Madeline, the colour once more visiting her cheek, which a moment since had been blanched as pale as death.