"I am but a Saxon outlaw, lady, a wolfshead, landless, penniless, and hunted; but if you can bethink you how I may serve you, my arm is strong, and my sword's edge unblunted. If time but tarry a while, I am confident something may be done to set you free from the life-long misery of a union with Vigneau; and I know enough of him to convince me that there is no community of taste or of disposition between you. I dare not say more, for my presumptuous heart runs riot with my understanding, and I may say things most unbefitting my present desperate estate."
"Make no apology, worthy knight," said Alice, blushing scarlet, then pale and trembling, "for your worldly misfortunes. A knight despoiled, but not disgraced, has no need to humble himself to me. Gold and lands are at best but an accident, but virtue and nobility of character are the slow growth of virtuous thinking and noble endeavour. And which, think you, valiant Saxon, are most highly valued by a simple maiden like myself? You are my debtor, you say; then here is an enterprise will tax your wisdom—I fear your prowess also. Doughty knights have in past times, it is said, effected wonderful deliverances for maidens in distress. Is it only the language of romance? I will not affectedly profess that I do not understand your language; but there is a challenge for you. If lightly won, Sir Knight, I may be lightly worn."
Now this high-born maiden was cultured, virtuous, womanly, and, moreover, she was young—a matter to be taken note of, for maidens then do not often dilute the gift of the heart with worldly considerations; but only few men are capable of winning such love. Does it require great tact, address, astuteness—such as men employ to catch some young colt, unbroken, shy, and suspicious? No. Whenever such love is won, it is won easily, without laying of siege, or clever generalship; in fact, astuteness, or tactics of any sort, are fatal to success. It is not a bargain, a huckstering quid pro quo. It is an inspiration, an intuition. It is a rush of all that is holiest, truest, tenderest, and trustful in woman towards the man who is capable of inspiring it, and of setting free the abounding wealth of a woman's heart. What conditions does it demand? Well, these are essentials: it asks for broad and ample strength to lean upon without misgiving. It demands an integrity that may be trusted to the uttermost, beyond the bounds where prudence, discretion, and kindred virtues cry halt. It asks the frankness and transparency of soul where nothing is hidden, and where there are no dark corners, suspicious and unreadable, suggestive of things to be disguised with care. When these qualities are present, they are luminously visible to a woman's intuitions, and the citadel of her heart is won easily and without capitulation terms. There are more hearts won at short notice than cynics would allow; but it is the spontaneous embrace of the divine that is in us, and alas! there is little of the divine in most mortals.
As the foregoing words fell from the lips of Alice, Oswald started forward as though electrified, and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Believe me, lady," said he, "I never dared to dream such a cup of blessedness would be held to my lips; and I assure you I needed no other stimulus than the debt of gratitude I owe to you for my deliverance from death, in order to brave anything and everything for you. But if there be hope, however remote, of winning a place in your affections, as my desperate estate has already moved your compassion, and that some day, in happier circumstances, I may even dare to ask you to be my bride, such an inpiration will nerve my arm and brace my energies, so that difficulties shall be most desperate if I overcome them not."
"I fear me, Sir Knight, if you undertake so desperate an enterprise as this, with success, it will require matchless skill and daring, coupled with deadliest peril. I fear, also, it will have to be a sharp sword that severs so unholy and hated a bond."
Alice hesitated a moment, as though feelings of delicacy forbade farther advances; then, although the blushes on her countenance deepened, she said,—
"Having confided so much of the story of my sorrows—I fear at the peril of my modesty—may I venture farther confidence?"
"I dare not ask you for confidences you hesitate to give, fair lady, for I am deeply conscious my worthiness to receive them has not been put to the proof. Consult your own heart in this, for it is your best and safest guide."
"I think I may safely venture everything, and trust you, Saxon, even to the uttermost and with all my heart. This involves my father's secret, and his deadly peril also, for this Vigneau has obtained a fatal ascendency over him. He holds documents most compromising to my father, in addition to the promise given long ago; and which my father might possibly have revoked with impunity had not Vigneau obtained possession of these treasonable documents. These he uses with brutal terrorism to enforce his claim to my hand. In an unhappy moment my father entered into negotiations with the leaders of the late Saxon rebellion, and he made use of Baron Vigneau as his intermediary. The Baron never delivered those letters, but with brutal cunning he still holds them, and he uses them with deadly effect to enforce his claims."