I was coward enough to be glad of the respite, foreseeing that my father's grief and anger would be hard to bear, when he knew that I would wed no woman on earth but Anna Goel.
CHAPTER IV
I could not now set down all that passed between my father and me on the marriage, which he designed for me; nor would I, if I could, for I said much that even to-day makes my ears burn to remember, and he some things which are better forgotten. I believe he was the hotter with me that he did not in his heart like the alliance which he proposed, and was obliged to do violence to his own feelings in urging it upon me. We ended in anger, and were estranged the one from the other. For some time we did not feel the full painfulness of this, by reason of my father's occupation with the affairs of the Isle, which took him much abroad, and brought many visitors and messengers to Temple Belwood when he was at home.
While he was busied with these matters, I haunted the neighbourhood of Castle Mulgrave in hope of chance encounter with Mistress Goel. The distance between the two houses was not much more than three miles. Sometimes I rowed my boat down the Nolffdyke, and so into Trent, when I hoisted sail, and beat up and down the river on the look-out for the earl's pleasure barge. At other times I rode by the causey which crossed the marsh extending from Beltoft to the Butterwick ferry, and scoured the roads and lanes on the other side of the river. My quest brought me but one glimpse of my lady. Once, as I gained a slight eminence on the eastern bank, I saw her with a party entering the courtyard of the castle—on horseback! She had learned to ride since I had last spoken with her, and I ground my teeth thinking of who had taught her, and of the mounting and dismounting, and all the occasions which the tutor had to touch hand and foot, even it might be to take her in his arms. How I hated Sheffield! And, for the time, I almost hated Mistress Goel, too.
The day after this maddening sight, Dick Portington came to Temple with news which at another time would have mightily stirred me. Hatfield Chace was to be disparked. The deer were to be driven and caught, to be taken away and distributed in other of the royal forests. When the Chace had been cleared, Vermuijden might fell timber, drain off the waters, and allot the land.
"No more winding of the horn, no more following of the deer, my boy," said Dick. "We ought to see the last stag hunt in Hatfield. And there may be other sport besides the driving of the deer. So come along."
"What manner of sport?" I asked.
"You know how many of our fellows in Thorne and Crowle reckon the Chace as much their domain as the King's. They are not over well-pleased to lose their venison, or their pastime. Moonlight nights will be dull when there's no more stalking of the King's game, or chance to warm one's blood in a fight with his keepers."
"You speak feelingly, Dick," said I, laughing.