CHAPTER X.
The Home of the Hepbornes—Remembrances of Childhood—The Old Wolf-Hound.
After tarrying for a little while at the small town of Dunse, the two knights pursued their journey over the high ridge of Lammermoor, and early on the second day they reached Hailes Castle, the seat of the Hepbornes, a strong fortress, standing on the southern banks of the river Tyne, in the heart of the fertile county of East Lothian. At the period we are now speaking of, the varied surface of the district surrounding the place was richly though irregularly wooded; and even the singular isolated hill of Dunpender, rising to the southward of it, had gigantic oaks growing about its base, and towering upon its sides, amidst thick hazel and other brushwood, wherever they could find soil enough to nourish them.
Sir Patrick Hepborne had been particularly silent during their march. The events which took place at Norham, and the conviction he felt that the Lady Eleanore de Selby had indirectly endeavoured to draw him into an attachment for her, when her heart either was or ought to have been engaged to another, made him unhappy. It was needless to inquire why it should have done so, since he was ever and anon congratulating himself on having escaped uninjured from the toils of one so unworthy of him. But the truth was he had not escaped uninjured; he had “tane a hurt” from her, of a nature too serious to be of very easy cure. Assueton, who had never felt the tender passion, and who had consequently very little sympathy for it, had more than once complained of the unwonted [[85]]dulness of his companion, who used to be so full of life and cheerfulness, and had made several vain attempts to rouse him, until at last, despairing of success, he amused himself in jesting with Master Mortimer Sang, who possessed a never-failing spring of good humour.
As they drew near the domains of Sir Patrick Hepborne the elder, however, a thousand spots, and things, and circumstances, began to present themselves in succession, and to force themselves on the attention of the love-sick knight, awakening warm associations with the events of his youthful days, and overpowering, for a time, his melancholy. To these he began to give utterance in a language his friend could not only comprehend, but participate in the feelings they naturally gave rise to.
“Assueton,” said he, “it was here, in this very wood, that I took my first lessons in the merry art of woodcraft; in yonder hollow were the rethes and pankers spread to toyle the deer; and, see there, under yonder ancient tree, was I first planted with my little cross-bow, as a lymer, to have my vantage of the game. It was Old Gabriel Lindsay, then a jolly forester, who put me there, and taught me how to behave me. He is now my father’s seneschal, if, as I hope, he be yet alive. He was a hale man then, and though twenty years older than my father, he had a boy somewhat younger than myself, who took up his father’s trade of forester, just before I went to France. Alas, the old tree has had a fearful skathe of firelevin since last I saw it. See what a large limb hath been rent from its side. Dost see the river glancing yonder below, through the green-wood? Ay, now we see it better. In yonder shallow used I to wade when a child, with my little hauselines tucked up above my knees. I do remember well, I was so engaged one hot summer’s day, when, swelled by some sudden water-spout or upland flood, I saw the liquid wall come sweeping onwards, ready to overwhelm me. I ran in childish fear, but ere I reached the strand it came, and overtaking my tottering steps, hurried me with it into yonder pool. I sank, and rose, and sank again. I remember e’en now how quickly the ideas passed through my infant mind, as I was whirling furiously round and round by the force of the eddy, vainly struggling and gasping for life, now below and now on the surface of the water. I thought of the dreadful death I was dying; I thought of the misery about to befall my father and mother—nay, strange as it may seem, I saw them in my mind’s eye weeping in distraction over my pale and dripping corpse, and all this was intermixed with flitting [[86]]hopes of rescue, that were but the flash amidst the darkness of the storm. The recollections of the five or six years I could remember of my past childhood were all condensed into the short period of as many minutes; for that was all the time my lucky stars permitted me to remain in jeopardy, till Gabriel Lindsay came, and, plunging into the foaming current, dragged me half dead to the shore. Full many a time have I sithence chosen that very pool as a pleasure bayne wherein to exercise my limbs in swimming, when hardier boyhood bid me defy the flood.”
“My dear friend,” said Assueton, “trust me, I do envy thee thine indulgence in those remembrances excited by the scenes of thy childhood; they make me more eager than ever to revel in those that await me around my paternal boure. I shall be thy father’s guest to-night; but I can no longer delay returning to my paternal possessions, and in especial to my widowed mother, who doubtless longs to embrace me. I must leave thee to-morrow.”
“Nay, Assueton, thou didst promise to bestow upon me three or four days at least,” said Hepborne: “let me not then have thy promise amenused. To rob me of so large a portion of thy behote were, methinks, but unkind.”
“I did promise, indeed,” said Assueton, “but I wist not of the time we should waste at Norham. I must e’en go to-morrow, Hepborne; but, trust me, I shall willingly boune me back again some short space hence.”
Hepborne was not lacking in argument to overcome his friend’s intentions, but he could gain no more than a promise, reluctantly granted, that his departure should be postponed until the morning after the following day.