Cornwall's Wonderland

by Mabel Quiller-Couch

Deftly, though, she slipped the ring out of her mouth, and deftly she presently managed to slip it into her bosom, marvelling much the while whence and how it came, and why. And her anxiety and longing nigh drove her beside herself. For until all the inmates of the castle had retired to rest, naught could she learn of the mystery, or of the stranger who had come to the castle. But once within her own apartments, where she was no longer watched and guarded as of yore, she quickly, at Dame Bragwaine's bidding, muffled herself to the eyes, and creeping softly down a flight of secret stairs, she got out of the castle by a private passage-way and reached the spot where 'The Swan' lay moored, and where Sir Ganhardine awaited her with his message and his sad story.

When she heard tell of Sir Tristram's sad plight, and how that he was like to die, but could not die in peace till he had once more beheld her, there was no need to plead with her to leave all and go to him. Almost before the tale was told her she had stepped on board the ship, and without one glance behind her or one regret she set sail upon the stormy wintry sea to go to her true love, as fast as the faithful 'Swan' could carry her. And in her joy that once again she should be with him, once again she should see him, she almost forgot his sore plight, for hard it was for her to believe that Sir Tristram could be like to die.

Meanwhile death was drawing nearer and nearer to Sir Tristram. His restlessness aggravated his wound, his anxious, tortured mind increased his fever, so that truly he was like to die at any moment. And all the time, a little way from him sat White-handed Iseult, pale and cold without, the better to bide the burning rage within.

"Iseult! Iseult!" cried the sick man in his sleep.

"I am here. What would you?" she answered coldly, and he opened his eyes with a half-doubting joy in them; but his heart sank like lead, and all the joy died out of him, for the voice was not the voice of his love, nor the face her face, and sore wearily he sighed, and turned his face away.

"I wronged you past all forgiveness when I married you," he said, "for my heart had long been given to La Belle Iseult, whose sworn knight I was; but I did love you, I thought I could make you happy. Have you no pity? Can you feel no mercy for me now?" he cried piteously.

"I feel nothing," she answered bitterly; "between you, you have killed my heart, and all that was good in me."

So his heart yearned all the more for the gentler, more tender Iseult. Wearily he moved in his bed and watched for the first gleam of daylight. Slowly the hours dragged by, relieved only by the plash, plash of the waves against the castle walls, or the sighs of the sick man.

Then within a while he spoke again. "My wife," he said, "when morning comes, look across the sea, and tell me if you see a ship coming, and if its sails be black or white, that I may the sooner be out of this miserable uncertainty."

Obediently she rose, and sat watching until the first ray of dawn, when, skimming over the sea through the morning mist, she saw the dainty 'Swan,' with her white sails like wings gleaming through the dimness. Over the wide waters she flew, until she drew close to the castle, and the anchor was cast. Then from out her sprang Ganhardine, and following quickly after him came La Belle Iseult. Too impatient to wait for help she sprang lightly on the shore, and stood there breathless, eager, glad.