"I am better," said Richard. "I am better;" and, stretching forth his hands, he added, in an imperative tone. "Leave me--all leave me! I am better--I would be alone."
The whole party hastened to obey, and, as soon as they were gone, Richard, the iron-spirited relentless Richard, placed his hands before his eyes, and wept. It is a terrible sight to see a man weep at any time. What must it have been to see tears forced from such a heart as Richard's!
CHAPTER XIII.
Let us take up the history of the woodman, after he and the bishop of Ely had quitted Lord Chartley. They crossed rapidly over the road, hearing the sound of horses advancing, and of men speaking, as they did so. Neither uttered a word; and the prelate was hastily directing his steps towards a spot where, by the dim light, he saw what seemed a continuation of the path he had just quitted, but the woodman seized his arm, and drew him on a little way up the road to a place where the bushes seemed so thick as to afford no passage through them. Putting aside the branches, however, with his sturdy arm, Boyd dragged rather than led Morton forward; and, for some way, the good bishop fancied that they should never find a path again, so thick and difficult seemed the copse. It extended not fifty yards, however; and, though somewhat scratched by the brambles, which clung round his feet and legs at every step, Morton, at length, found himself emerging into an open part of the wood, where the ground was covered with thick fern, out of which, every here and there, rose an old hawthorn or the bushy shoots of an oak or beech felled long ago.
"'Tis a rough road," said the woodman, in a low voice, as he relaxed his hold of the prelate's arm.
"So are all the ways of life, my son," answered the bishop.
"And the roughest often the safest," answered Boyd. "I know it by experience. Smooth paths end in precipices."
At that instant something started up before them out of the fern, and a quick rush was heard through the neighbouring brushwood. The bishop started, and drew a little back, but Boyd said with a laugh,--
"'Tis but a doe, my lord. If she find her way amongst the soldiers, there will be more chases than one to-night. Fear not, however. I will answer for your safety, though not for hers."
"I do not fear," answered the prelate. "Indeed, I am little given to fear; but, as you doubtless well know, my son, the mind has not always that command over the body which can prevent the mere animal impulse from starting at dangers, which calm consideration could meet unshrinking."