The lady listened; but for a moment no sound was heard: then the quick trampling of horses' feet reached her ear; and Adelaide fancied that Bertha was coming; but the beasts and their riders passed by the end of the little path,--at least she believed that they must have done so, for no one appeared, and the sounds grew gradually fainter and more faint, till at length they died away. The poor girl's heart sank. What had become of her companions? she thought; what had become of Bertha? Had they met with her father's soldiery, and been routed and driven back? and was she left there, in the midst of the wood, alone, and without help or guidance? Every fearful image that fancy could call up presented itself to her mind; and, though Adelaide was not faint-hearted, yet, for a time, her courage failed at the thought of all that might occur to her under such circumstances. She struggled against her terrors, indeed,--she would not dwell upon the dangers; and she was nerving her mind to consider calmly what it was best for her to do, when again the trampling sound of horse was heard; and, leaving the beast that bore her, under the woodman's shed, she drew back amongst the trees, and listened. The next moment a loud voice exclaimed, as if shouting to some distant companions, "Here; the hoofs have turned up here. Come on, come on!"
It was evidently not one of the party which had accompanied her from the abbey who was now seeking her, for they knew whither she had gone; and the lady drew further back, still hiding herself amongst the wet trees and bushes, yet leaving herself just room to see what passed on the open spot around the shed. The boughs had hardly ceased waving where she had pushed them aside, when, first a single soldier, leading his horse by the bridle, appeared, and then two or three others, mounted. Their faces were strange to her; they were none of the men of Ehrenstein; but that they were seeking her, soon seemed clear, for one of them exclaimed, "Ah, here's the girl's horse--take care; don't frighten it;" and, bending down low, behind the bushes, Adelaide remained as still as death; but with a beating heart. What more was said she did not hear, though the men remained some time, and seemed to converse eagerly: but that which appeared most strange was, that, as far as she could see, they made no attempt to search the copses around; and at length, mounting their horses again, rode quietly, but quickly, away.
For several minutes, she did not venture to raise her head; but when at length she did so, and looked towards the shed, she saw that the jennet which had brought her thither was gone. At first her brain seemed to swim with terror, and her knees shook violently. Alone, in a part of the country which she did not know, without any means of proceeding but such as her own weary and trembling limbs afforded--surrounded, perhaps, by those who were seeking to carry her to an imprisonment which would almost be worse than death--or in the midst of wild, lawless bands, which were but too numerous in those days,--with night fast approaching, and no shelter near but the wide wood, what was she to do?--whither was she to go?--where could she find refuge?
Such agonizing thoughts rushed rapidly through her mind, and it was long ere she could calm herself sufficiently to reflect upon any plan of action. At length, however, she remembered the green corn which she had seen growing at the opening of the road, and she thought, too, that her eyes had rested upon the foliage of the vine. Such signs of cultivation implied the proximity of some careful hands, and as these things recurred to her, hope began to revive.
"I will wait," she said, at length, "till night begins to fall, and then quietly find my way forward, and seek out the peasant's dwelling who has tilled those fields. Though rude, the boors are kind-hearted; and I am sure they will give me shelter for the night, and, perhaps, help me on my way to-morrow."
She seated herself, therefore; and, though still grieved, anxious, and sad, confidence in some degree returned. She prayed, and her heart felt strengthened and comforted. The nightingale broke out into song, in a tree overhead. A timid hare ran along before her--paused, and stood erect with lifted ears--ran on--paused again and listened more than once before it was lost to her sight; and Adelaide thought, "Why should not I, frightened, and in danger, like this poor beast, follow its example, and make my way forward with the same careful caution?"
She resolved to do so; and rising, she crept back to the small path that led from the woodman's shed to the wider road which she had lately been travelling, and then gazed along it as far as the eye could reach. Nothing was visible; though in the cool evening light, with the sun just upon the horizon, shining out from beneath the exhausted clouds, she could see clearly as far as a spot about two hundred yards in advance, where the path, taking a turn, was lost amongst the trees. With a cautious step she went on, pausing to listen every minute, till she gained a sight of the continuation of the little way. All was still clear; but yet she feared to trust herself in the wider road, which she could now perceive crossing the path she was following; and, drawing somewhat back behind an oak, she watched eagerly for a moment or two, while the sun sank, the rosy light that tinged the clouds overhead died away, and the grey shadow of the coming night was cast upon the earth.
"I must go on," she said to herself; but still she dreaded to do so, and did not move, till suddenly a tall hart came slowly trotting down the road, passed the end of the path in which she was, after standing for a moment to gaze, as if considering which way he should take, and disappeared in the very direction in which she was proceeding.
"There is no one there," thought the poor girl; "the beast's instinct shall serve my weaker sense, and give me courage to go on."
Without further hesitation she went upon her way, turned up the road to the right, and followed it quickly, for the light was failing fast. Night had completely closed in ere the trees ended; and she found herself standing by a field of green corn, with what seemed a little patch of vineyard on a slope beyond, and a dim line of trees farther forward still. The stars were out in the sky above, for by this time the stormy clouds had cleared away; but there was, in the scene, a pleasanter light to the eye of the poor wanderer, than even the twinkling lamps of heaven. At some distance to the right, were seen a number of what she concluded were cottage windows, with rays, as if from fires or candles within, streaming forth upon the darkness; and, at her side, she saw the commencement of a path, apparently leading, to the village or hamlet.