The Woodman: A Romance of the Times of Richard III

by G. P. R. James

"Besides," he said, "I am quite sure that the commanders of these men, as long as they have the troops under their own eye, would not suffer them to commit any violence in a religious house; for the king himself is devout, as we all know, and though he might wink at a violation of sanctuary, for his own purpose, he would punish severely any unnecessary injury done in effecting it."

These arguments certainly were consolatory to Iola, and left the fears which still lingered, only as passing shades, coming across her mind for a moment, and soon disappearing, like those cast by light clouds floating over the sun in a summer's day.

Onward they walked then, amidst the branches of the wood, and along the paths out in the thick underwood, still covered by the brown leaves of the preceding year. The thaw which had prevailed since the night before had penetrated even into the depths of the wood; and the grass was covered with unfrozen drops which rendered it almost as white as under the hoar frost. This was peculiarly the case upon what may be called the first step of the hill; but the path soon began to ascend, at first winding gently about upon the upland slope, and then, spreading out to a greater width, ran along under some high cliffy banks, somewhat too steep to surmount in a direct line. Here, from time to time, a beautiful view of the abbey, with the lower grounds surrounding it, might have been obtained, had there been daylight; and even in the darkness of the night, aided by a faint light from the smoking ruins of the cottages on the green, the eye could distinguish the sombre masses of the old pile, rising above all the surrounding objects.

"You see the abbey is safe," said Chartley, in a low tone; "and the fires are going out. I hear no sound.--Perhaps these troops are withdrawn."

"We could soon see," said Iola, "if we turned to the westward, for there is a little point, which commands a view of the road."

Perhaps Chartley did not very much wish to see; for, to say the truth, he had no great inclination to part with his fair companion so soon. He had made up his mind, by this time, to the not unpleasant task of passing the rest of the night with her in the old castle. There was a spirit of adventure in it--a touch of that romance which is agreeable to almost every young man's mind. Nevertheless, he thought it more proper to follow the suggestion, although the result might be to convey her back to the abbey, and send him onward on his way to Hinckley. They turned then in the direction she indicated, and, at the distance of about a hundred and fifty yards, came to a spot where a small stream welled from the high bank, and the waters were gathered, before they crossed the road, into a small clear pool; a beautiful object and beautifully situated. The rugged cliff from which the spring flowed, like a parent looking into a child's eyes, bent over the fountain, and caught the image of itself. The stars were mirrored in it; and a light birch that grew beside it bent its head down to drink.

"I will sit here," said Iola, "upon this stone, where I have often sat before, if you will run up the bank by that little path, which will lead you to a spot where a greater part of the road can be seen. Stop where the path stops; and do not be long, for I shall be frightened. I do not know whether you can see anything upon the road in this dark night; but the sand is light of colour, so as to show anything dark moving upon it, I think."

"I will leave the Arab with you," said Chartley. "You can trust him fully. Stay with the lady, Ibn Ayoub," he continued, "and guard her as you would the prophet's tomb."

The man folded his arms upon his breast, and remained precisely in the same attitude, at the distance of three or four paces, while his lord ran lightly up the path; and Iola, seating herself by the fountain, gazed down upon the limpid water, from which a dim shadowy form looked up at her again. What were her thoughts then? Perhaps, she too contemplated the result of all obstacles to her return to the abbey being removed, the consequent parting with her young and kind companion, and the probability of her never meeting with him again. It was not without a feeling of regret. She almost wished that she had not proposed to Chartley to see whether the troops were still there or not; and then she was angry with herself for entertaining such feelings. Then she meditated upon the passing the night with him in the ruins; and certainly she did not regard such a thing in the same way that he did. She felt a little alarmed, of she knew not what, a hesitation, a doubt. It would feel very strange, she thought--almost wrong. While there had seemed no other choice, such feelings had never presented themselves, but now they were strong. It would be very pleasant, she could not deny, to have his society for some time longer--with friends and companions about them; but alone, in a remote place, with the world's eye afar--that eye which acts as a bond but a safeguard, a restraint but a justification--the matter was very different. Yet--strange human nature!--when, a moment after, she heard a blast of a trumpet coming from the road, and a loud voice shouting forth some orders, it was a relief to her. Perhaps she feared the parting with Chartley so soon, even more than passing of a night with him in the old castle. Dear girl, she could not help it. It was no fault of hers. Nature taught her to cling to that which had protected her. Nature taught her to love that which came upon her hitherto dull existence like the first gleam of summer's returning sunshine into the wintry sky.

A moment after, Chartley's step was heard returning; and, running down the bank, he said: