"Nor need you; but I have got a horse for you all ready; follow me—presto prestissimo!"
The Earl had just time to fling a cloak over his shoulders, and snatch up a hunting cap, ere she was out of sight. He then followed her quickly,—under the portico, down the avenue, and then through a small postern,—and he was outside his gardens, and the Apennines in front. Still his fair guide moved on; she seemed to float rather than walk over the ground, towards a dark myrtle grove. By this time the sunlight had quite forsaken the west; the hills had re-assumed their dusky hue, and the full moon rising in the east began to shed a cold lustre on the dew-bathed landscape. Still in the full vigour of manhood, strong, bounding in health, and with a mind ready for adventure, the Earl saw something delightful in the mystery of his errand; the loveliness of his guide, the hour, the place, the uncertain light of the moon, the originality of the whole—all was charming! But yet here was he, a peer of England, a husband of a fond wife, a father of a loving child, racing at night after a stranger almost, a pretty Italian girl, to a well-known haunt of robbers, to hear some wonderful story, or see some wonderful thing. It was ludicrous as well as romantic. He almost began to laugh at himself as he thought what the Marquis would think of him, and to be angry with himself when he thought what anxiety his freak would give Ellen. He had nearly forty miles to ride there and back, and supposing they did this in four hours' hard riding, allowing a couple of hours for delay and the time taken in revealing the secret, this would not bring him home till eleven at night, and during those six hours his wife would be wretched. But it was too late for regrets now; he was pledged to follow his guide. After all, he thought, I have often been later; she will but think I have gone to a friend's house, or the library.
Excusing himself thus, he followed Leonora still into the myrtle wood. She at last stopped, and, taking a little ivory whistle from her bosom, blew a signal. In less than two minutes a suspicious-looking man, leading two horses, appeared.[E] He was dark and swarthy in appearance, with long hair and beard untrimmed, as well as fierce moustache; wore a pointed hat gaily decked with ribbons, a jacket of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, breeches of dark blue velvet slashed with crimson, buskins of leather, and long spurs on his heels; his bronzed complexion and fierce look argued him a dangerous fellow, perhaps a bandit; but a silken sash round his middle, stuck full of pistols, knives, and stilettos, and a musket slung on his back, proclaimed it too certainly. When the Earl saw this fellow, he began to think he had been over-ready to follow a stranger; however, Leonora looked incapable of treachery, and he still trusted her. He made friends with the man by slipping a gold piece into his hand as he took the bridle of his horse. The bandit grinned as he saw it glitter on his palm, showing a white and regular set of teeth. The Earl then lifted his fair guide into her selle, which was covered with velvet richly embroidered with gold, gave the silken reins into her hand, and then prepared to mount his own steed. The horse he was to ride was a large and powerful Arab, coal black excepting a star of white on its forehead. The saddle and reins were of the finest leather, stamped with elegant designs. His guide's was a pretty jennet of the Andalusian breed, snow-white, with flowing mane and tail. She managed the skittish little animal with great address, and as the Earl followed slowly on his own noble charger, he thought he had never seen a prettier pair than guided him,—a more perfect horsewoman than his guide, a better bred animal than she rode on. The young girl gently walked her steed till beyond the confines of the wood, when she put out its powers more freely along a bye-path. It was not long ere they reached the main road, and then, waving her hand, she set off at a breathless speed and soon reached the grassy plains of the open country. The Earl, an experienced horseman, easily kept up with his guide, and he thought he had seldom pressed a nobler horse than the one that bore him.
When they reached the plain, leaving the road, she dashed forward across the sandy ground; the Earl followed. Their horses drove the numerous herds of cattle that fed on the immense pasturage right and left before them. Lord Wentworth was in high spirits then, and enjoyed the gallop over the great common as every rider must, especially by moonlight. Then there was the romance of the ride, following a beautiful girl to an unknown place, and as his courser's hoofs spurned the sandy soil, he almost shouted the "Tallyho!" of old England in his glee. It was not long ere they reached the hills, that advanced like great barriers; it seemed as if they were inaccessible and not to be pierced; but as they drew nearer the Earl saw the gap of a river through the mountains, and dense woods of acacia, arbor vitæ, and nut-trees became visible, as well as the road they had left.
Entering again on the resumed route, Leonora drew the reins to breathe her panting horse; he followed her example, and side by side they began to walk their horses up the road, gradually becoming steeper as it crossed the chain of hills. The moon was now getting high in the heavens, and shone with silver rays on the brown mountains and woods above and below them. It was dead silence all, save the flow of the river beneath chafing against its rocky sides, or the shrill cry of the cicalas, the rustle of the dried leaves stirred by the passing wind, the tramp of the iron hoof, or the snort of the fiery animals they scarce compelled into a reluctant walk. Neither spoke a word; he was too busy with his own thoughts, the girl too modest to begin a conversation. Slowly they paced upwards; the woods grew denser on either side; the mountains rose darker; the roar of the waters grew louder; but in silence they still rode on.
They had now reached the middle of the pass, and arrived at the scene of the morning's tragedy, of which the Earl as yet knew nothing. The first thing that caught his eye, was the carriage, which stood in lonely desertion in the middle of the road; some fifty paces ahead a little beyond it his eye caught a glimpse of two poles, one on either side of the road, bearing aloft their dread tokens of guilt and murder. The moon shone on the haggard features, and rendered them disgusting and horrid. He shuddered as he saw them; on the road too he perceived numbers of bodies stretched in various groups. It was like a field of battle. As they approached, two or three dark animals rushed away into the woods,—they were wolves come down on their prey.
"What in God's name has occurred here?" said the Earl, as he now passed directly beneath the poles, and with difficulty guided his horse amongst the numerous corpses.
"Some poor travellers whom the Vardarelli robbed and murdered to-day," answered the girl, with a sang froid that seemed totally unlike her.
"My God!" exclaimed the Earl, "it is even so; these are my unhappy guests! It is Mr. Lennox and his wretched son—I know those ghastly heads! Leonora, I can go no further; those death-pale faces will long haunt me!"
"What, Signore, are you come so far, and afraid to go on? True, this is a sad sight—the marks of plunder, rapine, and murder,—but with me you need not fear."