Part 47 (2/2)

and I was ready to give all I had to any one who would have put a pistol to my head and got me out of my misery, jolting along on the way to the Iron Gates. Yet here I am! Maybe the Almighty brought me back to save poor Sedley, and clear my own conscience, knowing well that though it does not look so, it is better for me to die thus than the other way. No, no; 'tis ten to one that you and the rest of you will get me off. I only meant to show you that supposing it fails, I shall only feel it my due, and much better for me than if I had died out there with it unconfessed. I shall try to get them all to feel it so, and, after all, now the whole is out, my heart feels lighter than it has done these seven years. And if I could only believe that poor fellow alive, I could almost die content, though that sounds strange. It will quiet his poor restless spirit any way.”

”You are too brave. Oh! I hoped to come here to comfort you, and I have only made you comfort me.”

”The best way, sweetest. Now, I will seal and address this letter, and you shall take it to Mr. Fellowes to carry to the amba.s.sador.”

This gave Anne a little time to compose herself, and when he had finished, he took the candle, and saying, ”Look here,” he held it to the wall, and they read, scratched on the rough bricks, ”Alice Lisle, 1685. This is thankworthy.”

”Lady Lisle's cell! Oh, this is no good omen!”

”I call it a goodly legacy even to one who cannot claim to suffer wrongfully,” said Charles. ”There, they knock--one kiss more--we shall meet again soon. Don't linger in town, but give me all the days you can. Yes, take her back, Sir Edmund, for she must rest before her journey. Cheer up, love, and do not lie weeping all night, but believe that your prayers to G.o.d and man must prevail one way or another.”

CHAPTER x.x.xI: ELF-LAND

”Three ruffians seized me yestermorn, Alas! a maiden most forlorn; They choked my cries with wicked might, And bound me on a palfrey white.”

S. T. COLERIDGE.

Yet after the night it was with more hope than despondency, Anne, in the February morning, mounted en croupe behind Mr. Fellowes's servant, that being decided on as the quickest mode of travelling.

She saw the sunrise behind St. Catherine's Hill, and the gray mists filling the valley of the Itchen, and the towers of the Cathedral and College barely peeping beyond them. Would her life rise out of the mist?

Through h.o.a.r-frosted hedges, deeply crested with white, they rode, emerging by and by on downs, becoming dully green above, as the sun touched them, but white below. Suddenly, in pa.s.sing a hollow, overhung by two or three yew-trees, they found themselves surrounded by masked hors.e.m.e.n. The servant on her horse was felled, she herself s.n.a.t.c.hed off and a kerchief covered her face, while she was crying, ”Oh sir, let me go! I am on business of life and death.”

The covering was stuffed into her mouth, and she was borne along some little way; then there was a pause, and she freed herself enough to say, ”You shall have everything; only let me go;” and she felt for the money with which Sir Philip had supplied her, and for the watch given her by King James.

”We want you; nothing of yours,” said a voice. ”Don't be afraid.

No one will hurt you; but we must have you along with us.”

Therewith she was pinioned by two large hands, and a bandage was made fast over her eyes, and when she shrieked out, ”Mr. Fellowes!

Oh! where are you?” she was answered--

”No harm has been done to the parson. He will be free as soon as any one comes by. 'Tis you we want. Now, I give you fair notice, for we don't want to choke you; there's no one to hear a squall. If there were, we should gag you, so you had best be quiet, and you shall suffer no hurt. Now then, by your leave, madam.”

She was lifted on horseback again, and a belt pa.s.sed round her and the rider in front of her. Again she strove, in her natural voice, to plead that to stop her would imperil a man's life, and to implore for release. ”We know all that,” she was told. It was not rudely said. The voice was not that of a clown; it was a gentleman's p.r.o.nunciation, and this was in some ways more inexplicable and alarming. The horses were put in rapid motion; she heard the trampling of many hoofs, and felt that they were on soft turf, and she knew that for many miles round Winchester it was possible to keep on the downs so as to avoid any inhabited place. She tried to guess, from the sense of suns.h.i.+ne that came through her bandage, in what direction she was being carried, and fancied it must be southerly. On--on--on--still the turf. It seemed absolutely endless. Time was not measurable under such circ.u.mstances, but she fancied noon must have more than pa.s.sed, when the voice that had before spoken said, ”We halt in a moment, and s.h.i.+ft you to another horse, madam; but again I forewarn you that our comrades here have no ears for you, and that cries and struggles will only make it the worse for you.” Then came the sound as of harder ground and a stop-- undertones, gruff and manly, could be heard, the peculiar noise of horses' drinking; and her captor came up this time on foot, saying, ”Plaguy little to be had in this accursed hole; 'tis but the choice between stale beer and milk. Which will you prefer?”

She could not help accepting the milk, and she was taken down to drink it, and a hunch of coa.r.s.e barley bread was given to her, with it the words, ”I would offer you bacon, but it tastes as if Old Nick had smoked it in his private furnace.”

Such expressions were no proof that gentle blood was lacking, but whose object could her abduction be--her, a penniless dependent?

Could she have been seized by mistake for some heiress? In that moment's hope she asked, ”Sir, do you know who I am--Anne Woodford, a poor, portionless maid, not--”

”I know perfectly well, madam,” was the reply. ”May I trouble you to permit me to mount you again?”

She was again placed behind one of the riders, and again fastened to him, and off they went, on a rougher horse, on harder ground, and, as she thought, occasionally through brushwood. Again a s.p.a.ce, to her illimitable, went by, and then came turf once more, and by and by what seemed to her the sound of the sea.

Another halt, another lifting down, but at once to be gathered up again, and then a splas.h.i.+ng through water. ”Be careful,” said the voice. A hand, a gentleman's hand, took hers; her feet were on boards--on a boat; she was drawn down to sit on a low thwart.

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