Anne obeyed to the letter, and for fully half-an-hour felt herself half dragged up and down rugged ground, past masses of stone, and through bushes; and more than once her fears nearly made her open her eyes.

At last, when she could bear the suspense no longer, there was a pause, and Mother Goodhugh placed her hands upon her shoulders, pressed her down upon a block of stone, and whispered in her ear:--

"Keep your eyes close; do not speak or move, and you will hear his steps ere long, and he will speak to thee."

"In the flesh?" whispered the girl, hoarsely.

"How can I tell in or out of the flesh, but he will come."

"But who, Mother Goodhugh, who?" whispered the girl.

"I know not. It may be Captain Gil: it may be the gallant at the Pool: all I know and can tell is that the man who touches you--"

"Touches?"

"Yes, touches you, is or will be your lover. Hush! Not a word."

Anne half made a spring to rise, but something seemed to hold her back in her seat, and with palpitating heart she sat trembling as she heard a faint rustling noise indicating that Mother Goodhugh was going back into the forest; and, unable at last to combat the feeling of lonesomeness and dread, but at the same time unwilling to break what she felt was a spell by opening her eyes, she whispered hastily--"Mother--mother, are you there?" She sank back the next moment bedewed with cold clammy perspiration, for there seemed to arise a strange low whispering of many voices, which passed, came back, and died away in the distance, leaving her in the midst of a silence that was profound.

Volume 1, Chapter VIII.

HOW THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK.

It was terrible work to sit there in that profound silence, listening and wondering where she was; and at last it was with a feeling of relief that Anne awoke to the fact that she must be out in the daylight; for suddenly the mournful caw of a rook passing far overhead fell upon her ear.

Then the place did not seem so solitary, for a wandering wind swept softly by her, stirring the leaves which rustled together, as it cooled her cheek, and soon after there was the pleasant chirp of a woodland bird, followed by the familiar little prattle of the yellow-hammer.

She began now to realise that she must be in some deep ravine, one of the many that gashed the primeval forest, and felt half ready to laugh at her fears, as she uttered a short cough, which came back repeated strangely from the opposite wall of the rock.

"Frightened by an echo," she muttered, "and--oh, what a weak-pated fool am I, and how I do let that wicked old beldame play upon me. It is absurd. She has no such power as she pretends; and here have I let her bring me here to sit like a shallow-brained, love-sick girl, with my eyes shut, waiting to see my lover. Eyes shut! How can I see my love.

I'll open them. Nay; there may be truth in the spell after all, and, if there is, why should I spoil it when I have gone so far. I wonder whether he will come. How my poor heart beats!"

"Coo--coo--oo--oo. Coo--coo--coo--coo--coo--oo," came from somewhere far below.

"That's a lover's cry," she said, half laughing, to herself; "but he will not come to me in the form of a dove, unless my heart's set on Jupiter himself. How absurd I am."

Quite a quarter of an hour passed away, and still with a wonderful power over her desires she sat upon the piece of sandrock waiting for the fulfilment of Mother Goodhugh's promises.

"I'll wait no longer," she cried at last, petulantly. "I cannot keep my eyes closed like this. Where am I? How am I to find my way back home?

Oh, what a sorry idiot am I! I'll open my eyes at once, and put an end to this mystery. Hark, what's that?"

A low doleful wail was heard overhead, and as she listened it was repeated.

"It was a seamew," she whispered, "and that wicked hag must have brought me nearer the shore. What's that?"

She bent down a little, listening, for she fancied that she heard a voice, but the sound was not repeated. Then there was a gentle rustle of a leaf, as if some rabbit had passed by, but still she kept her eyes closed, with a lingering faith that the old woman's words might prove true, and all the while her heart went throb throb against the flask containing the love philtre in her bosom.

All silent as the grave once more, and she trembled as she heard her own voice.

"I'll count a hundred," she whispered to herself, "and then--"

She did not finish her sentence, but began slowly under her breath to count one, two, three, four, five, six, and so on right away, heedless of a faint rustle repeated again and again, close at hand, and she went on getting slower and slower in a disappointed manner, as she reluctantly felt that she must keep her word, and open her eyes; and at last it was, "Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, and--Help, help, help! Oh!"

Mistress Anne's voice was smothered, and she felt herself tightly held by strong hands. For as she came to the end of her counting task, and sharply opened her eyes, it was to gaze at a broad handkerchief held by two brown hands, drawn tightly across the next moment and secured behind her head, while a second stifled her cries as it was tied over her mouth.

"There, my little birdie," said a rough voice, "that will stop your singing for the present. If you can't breathe, give a kick, and we'll ease it off. There, there, don't struggle like that, or you'll rumple your plumage."

"Got her, lads?" said another voice.

"Got her, ah! I see her sitting on the stone there, fast asleep, crope up the bank, and off with my handkerchief, and clapped it over her eyes, while Morgan covered her mouth."

"What are you going to do with her?"

"Help her to old Wat, I think," said the first voice. "He always wants a wife."

"Nay, lads; I shall keep her myself. Steady, lass! it's no use to struggle."

Anne Beckley's heart sank within her breast as she wondered into whose hands she had fallen, and she trembled so that she could scarcely stand.

The conversation that ensued the next moment, though, served as a stimulus, and she waited with bated breath, and without struggling, as the principal speaker considered the question, holding her tightly the while by the arm.

"Where be going to take her?" said a fresh voice.

"Oh, up yonder," was the reply.

"Nay, nay; that won't do. The skipper won't stand these games, my lad."

"The skipper!"

Those two words sent a thrill of hope through the heart of the girl as she asked herself could it be Captain Gil.

"Yes, yes; it must be," she thought directly after; and these were some of the rough, adventurous men of whom she heard whispers at the Moat-- the crew of bold, daring fellows, who sailed round the world and braved all dangers, even laughing at the laws; for one of Captain Gil's men had been taken before her father for some offence, and when the worthy baronet was about to condemn him to fine and imprisonment, amercing him in coin as well as time, he had leaned forward and whispered that in the justice's ears which had made him reconsider the case and dismiss the prisoner in the end.

It was into the hands of these men she had fallen she felt sure, and should Captain Gil find out what was done she knew she had nothing to fear, unless, finding her in his power, he should carry her off to his ship somewhere in the little river and bear her away to be a rover's bride.

The silly little heart of Anne Beckley, full as it was of trouble, was ready to make room for this romantic notion, and she gave up all thought of resistance as her captors led her away, merely pointing to the bandage across her mouth, which half stifled her.

"Ah, you shall have that off, my dear, if you will not squeal," said the same voice; and the girl breathed more freely as the wrapper was taken away.

"Now, be careful how you come or you'll break your pretty neck, and then--Curse it, here be the skipper."

"What's this?" cried a well-known voice. "Whom have you here? Mistress Anne Beckley?"

"Oh, Captain Gil, save me--save me," cried the girl, stretching out her hands in the direction of the voice, and nestling close to him as his strong arm was thrown round her.

"You dogs, how dare you?" roared Gil, while, with a sense of indescribable joy, Mistress Anne held her head against his broad breast, heard the resonant utterances which seemed to echo in his chest, and listened to the firm, strong beating of his heart. She never for a moment thought of tearing away the bandage; but, when she did raise her fingers, Gil's stout hand prisoned both of hers and held them tightly, where they stayed without resistance, nothing loth.

"We couldn't help it, captain," said a voice. "I be coming along here, and I see my young mistress there seated on yon stone, with her head bent down, asleep."

"Mother Goodhugh has spoken truth, then," whispered Anne to herself; "I have not seen, but I have felt, and feel the touch of my future lord."