"That as gooes through Stampwell's wood, an' over the hills. It strikes off from the King's highway, a leetle beyont the gates o' the park."

"I know--I know. There, my man! Something to get you your morning dram. Away at once; and don't let yourself be seen in my company. Go where you like now; but be in your own nest at night: I may want you."

The messenger took the money; and along with it his instant departure.

"What the deuce can she be doing out at this hour?" inquired Scarthe of himself, as he strode nervously across the parterre.

"Ha! the place--the forest road leading to Stone Dean! Can it be possible that he--The fiends! If it be so, I may yet be in time to take him. Ho, there!" he cried to the guard corporal, who had just appeared outside the courtyard gate. "A dozen men to horse. Quick, corporal!

Let them not lose a moment. I shall be out before they have time to strap on their saddles."

And, having delivered these orders, he turned back into his room; and commenced encasing his body in the steel armour, that lay in pieces around the apartment.

In less than ten minutes' time he was armed _cap-a-pied_. Staying only to quaff off a cup of wine--which he hurriedly filled from a decanter that stood upon the side table--he pa.s.sed out of his apartment; and strode clanking along the stone-flagged corridor that communicated with the rear of the dwelling.

Emerging into the courtyard, he mounted his horse--already caparisoned to receive him; and, giving the word of command to the cuira.s.siers, who had climbed to their saddles, he galloped out of the court--on toward the entrance of the park that opened in the direction of Stone Dean.

It was a short gallop--ending almost as soon as it had begun. It came to a termination, at the head of the hill--down which trended the long avenue skirted with chestnut trees.

There Scarthe suddenly checked his steed--at the same time giving his followers the order to bait.

Naturally enough, the troopers were a little surprised at this sudden interruption of their ride; but they were altogether astonished at a second order--following quick upon the first--which enjoined upon them to wheel round, and return to their stables!

They obeyed, though not without, a show of reluctance. They would much rather have continued their excursion--supposing it to have been intended for some foraging expedition that promised pleasure and plunder.

They were not entirely ignorant of what had caused the countermand. As they were wheeling upon the path, they had caught sight of an object at the other end of the avenue, whose motions betrayed it to be animate.

Though but dimly seen through the dawn, and under the shadow of the chestnuts, they could tell what it was--the figure of a woman.

"A sail in sight!" muttered one, who had seen salt.w.a.ter service. "The captain's going to hail the craft; and don't want us Jack-tars on the quarter deck."

"'Tis she!" muttered Scarthe to himself, as his followers retired.

"Even if _he_ has been with her, 'twould be of little use going after him now. He would scarce be such a fool as to remain upon the ground.

'Tis impossible she can have seen any one, since Walford left her?

There has not been time for an interview such as that. She may have been with him before? If so, the sham message will result in my own discomfiture. Or she may have been expecting him, and he has not come?

If so, the parcel would be just in time. I can scarce look for such a lucky combination of circ.u.mstances!"

"What shall I do?" he continued, after a pause. "If she has not met him, it is a splendid opportunity for my proposal! The events are ominous of success. Shall I make it now--this moment?"

"There is danger in delay," he muttered, as the old adage came into his mind. "She may have some means of communicating with him; and the glove trick may be discovered? I shall trust no longer to chance. This uncertainty is insufferable. Within the hour I shall put an end to it, and find out my fate, one way or the other. If accepted, then shall Richard Scarthe play traitor to his king, and the good knight Sir Marmaduke may conspire to his heart's content. If rejected, then--in that contingency--ah--then--the old rebel will risk the losing of his head."

"Now, Mistress Marion Wade," apostrophised he, as he watched the advancing figure. "On thine answer there is much depending: your father's head and my happiness. I hope you will be gracious, and give security to both. If you refuse me, then must I make use of that power, with which a lucky chance has provided me. Surely thy father's danger will undo your objections? If you resist, let the ruin fall--let him suffer his doom!"

"I must dismount and meet her," he continued, as he saw Marion coming on with slow steps. "A declaration in the saddle would never do. It must be made on foot--or still more humbly on bended knee; and so shall it, if that be necessary to secure success. Ha! ha! what would they say at Court? The invincible Scarthe, who has made conquest of a queen, kneeling in humble suit at the feet of a country maiden--the daughter of a rank rebel--begging for her heart, and worse still, bargaining for her hand! Ha! ha! ha!"

While uttering this laugh, he flung himself from his horse; and, tossing the rein of his bridle over the branch of a tree, he commenced descending the hill.

Although advancing towards the interview, with all the _nonchalance_ he was capable of a.s.suming, he was at the same time trembling with apprehension as to the result.

He met the maiden at the bottom of the hill--under the sombre shadow of the chestnuts.

He encountered a look of cold surprise, accompanied by a simple nod of recognition.

Such a reception might have turned him from his purpose; but it did not.

He had made up his mind to propose; and, without much circ.u.mlocution, he proceeded to carry out the intention.

"Mistress Marion Wade!" said he, approaching her with an air of profound respect, and bowing low as he drew near, "if you be not offended by my intruding upon you at this early hour, I shall thank the fate that has favoured me."

"Captain Scarthe, this interview is unexpected."

"By me it has been _sought_. I have been for some time desirous of an opportunity to speak with you alone."

"To speak with me alone? I am at a loss to know, sir, what you can have to say that requires such a condition."

"You _shall_ know, Mistress Wade; if, indeed, you have not divined my purpose already. Need I tell you that I am in love?"

"And why, Sir, have you chosen me for this confidence? I should think that was a secret to be communicated only to her whom it concerns?"

"And to her alone has it been communicated. Surely I need not name the object of my love. You cannot have been blind to emotions--to sufferings--I have been unable to conceal. I can be silent no longer.

O Marion Wade! I love you with all the fondness of a true affection-- all the fervour of an admiration that knows no limits. Do not be angry at me for thus declaring myself. Do not frown upon my suit. O, beautiful Marion! say that I may hope?"

Scarthe had dashed his helmet to the ground, and flung himself on his knees in the att.i.tude of an humble suppliant. With eyes upturned to her face, he tremblingly awaited the reply.

She was silent. Her features betrayed no sign of gladness, as she listened to that earnest declaration. Scarce, even, did they show surprise. Whatever of this she may have felt was concealed under the cloud of chagrin, that, springing from a very different cause, still overspread her countenance.

The kneeling suitor waited some moments for a response; but none was given. She to whom he was making suit remained proudly silent.

Becoming sensible of a certain ludicrousness in the situation, Scarthe impatiently continued:--"Oh! do not deny me! At least, vouchsafe an answer. If it be favourable, I promise--I swear--that my heart--my hand--my soul--my sword--my life--all will be yours--yours for any sacrifice you may summon me to make. O Marion!--beautiful Marion Wade!--I know I am not worthy of you now. Think not of me as I am; but rather what I shall be. I may one day be more deserving of your esteem--perhaps your love. I have hopes of preferment--high hopes. I may be excused for saying, they are founded on the patronage of a queen.

With one like you for my bride--my wife--highborn, gifted, lovelier than all others, these hopes would soon be realised. To be worthy of loving you--to have the pleasure of ill.u.s.trating you--of making you happy by the highest fame--I could accomplish anything. Fear not, Marion Wade! He who sues to you, if now humble, may hope for higher rank. Ere long shall I obtain the much-coveted t.i.tle of Lord. It matters little to me. Only for your sake should I prize it. But oh!

hapless lord should I be, if not the lord of your heart! A word, Marion Wade!--one word! Tell me I may hope?"

Marion turned her eyes upon the eloquent suppliant. His att.i.tude, the expression of his countenance, and the fervent tone in which he had declared himself, were evidence that he was in earnest. She could not fail to perceive that he loved her. Whatever may have been the deceit of his nature, in other respects, there could be no doubt that he was honest in his admiration for herself.

Perhaps it was this thought that restrained her from making an indignant reply. Why should she be offended at one thus humbly suing--one who was willing to become her slave?

The expression in her eye, called up by the att.i.tude of the suitor, seemed to speak of pity, rather than indignation.

It soon pa.s.sed away; and was succeeded by the same calm look of indifference--with which she had hitherto regarded him.

Misinterpreting that momentary glance of kindness, Scarthe for an instant fancied himself successful.

Only for an instant. His heart fell as he noted the change of countenance that succeeded; and it needed not for Marion to signify her refusal in speech. Words could not have more plainly told him, that his suit was rejected.

In words, however, he was told it; and with a laconism that left him no alternative, but to rise from his kneeling att.i.tude, place his helmet once more upon his head, and bid Marion Wade good-morning.

Alone the lady pursued her homeward way--Scarthe standing silent and statue-like, till she had pa.s.sed out of sight. Then his features suddenly changed expression; his true temper, for the time restrained, escaped from the control in which he had been keeping it; and both voice and gesture testified to the terrible conflict of emotions that convulsed his soul.

"I shall seek no more to sue her," muttered he, as he detached his bridle from the branch. "'Tis not the mode to deal with this proud damsel. Force, not favour, is the way to win her--at least her hand-- ah! and maybe her heart? I've known such as she before. Are there not hundreds in history? Did the Sabine women continue to despise their bold abductors? No; they became loving wives: loving them for the very act, that, in the fancy of fools, should have excited their hatred! By Heaven! I shall imitate those Roman ravishers--if driven to the _dernier resort_. Thank fortune! there's another arrow in my quiver.

And now to place it to the string. By this time Sir Marmaduke should be stirring; though it seems he keeps not so early hours as his charming child! Curses! what can have carried her abroad? No doubt, I shall discover in time; and if it be, that--"