Sir Patrick resolving to probe his sister’s heart, adroitly turned the conversation on Sir John Assueton, and, with extreme ingenuity, touched on those agrémens and virtues which his friend evidently possessed, as well as on a number of weak and faulty points, both in person and manner, which he chose, for certain purposes, to feign in him, or greatly to exaggerate. In praising the former, the Lady Isabelle very much surpassed her brother; for, however highly he might laud his friend, she always found something yet more powerful and eloquent to say [[110]]in his favour; but whenever Sir Patrick ventured to hint at any thing like a fault or a blemish, the lady was instantly up in arms, and made as brave a defence for him against her brother as she had done for him some days before against the wolf. This light skirmishing went on between them until they reached a knoll covered with tall oaks, whence they beheld the party, about to take shelter in the appointed grove of trees, on the meadow by the river’s side, at a considerable distance below them.
“Isabelle,” said Hepborne, taking her hand tenderly, “thou hast walked far enough, my love; let us rest here for an instant, and then part. Our converse hath not been vain. My just praise of Assueton, as well as the faults I pretended to find in him, were neither of them without an object. I wished ere I left thee to satisfy myself of the true state of thy little heart; for I should have never forgiven myself had I discovered that I had been mistaken, and that I had told what was not true, when I assured Assueton, as I did last night, that thou lovest him.”
“Told Sir John Assueton that I love him?” exclaimed the Lady Isabelle, blushing with mingled surprise and confusion; “how couldst thou tell him so? and what dost thou know of my sentiments regarding him? Heavens! what will he think of me?”
“Why, well, passing well, my fair sister,” said Hepborne; “make thyself easy on that score. He loves thee, believe me, as much as thou lovest him; so I leave thee to measure the length, breadth, height, and depth of his attachment by the dimensions of thine own. But as to knowing the state of thy heart—tut! I could make out much more difficult cases than it presents; for well I wot its state is apparent enough, even from the little talk I have had with thee now, if I had never heard or seen more. But, my dear Isabelle, after my father, thou and he are the two beings on earth whom I do most love. Ye are both perfect in mine eyes. I could talk to thee of Assueton’s qualities and perfections for days together, and of virtues which as yet thou canst not have dreamt of; but I must leave thee to the delightful task of discovering them for thyself. All I can now say is, may heaven make ye both happy in each other—for I must be gone. And so, my love, farewell, and may the blessed Virgin protect thee.”
He then threw his arms about his sister’s neck, pressed her to his bosom, and, having kissed her repeatedly with the most tender affection, tore himself from her, ran down the hill, and, as she cleared her eyes from the tear-drops that swelled in them, [[111]]she saw him disappear in the shade of the clump of trees where his party was stationed. A good deal of time seemed to be lost ere the whole were mounted and in motion; but at last she saw them emerging from the wood-shaw, and winding slowly, in single files, up the river-side. She sat on the bank straining her eyes after them until they were lost in the distant intricacies of the surface, and then turned her steps slowly homewards, ruminating agreeably on her brother’s last words, as well as on the events of the preceding days, which had given her a new and more powerful interest in life than she had ever before experienced.
“Oh, my dear brother,” said she to herself, “thou didst indeed say truly that I do love him; and if thou sayest as soothly that he doth love me, then am I blessed indeed.”
It was courtesy alone that induced Sir John Assueton to agree to Sir Patrick Hepborne’s proposal of going that morning to the woodlands to hunt the deer. He went with no very good will; nay, when his host talked of it, he felt more than once inclined, as he had done with his friend about the tournament, to plead his wounded arm as an excuse for remaining at home with the Lady Isabelle; and, perhaps, if it had not been for absolute shame, he might have yielded to the temptation. Hence he had but little pleasure in the sport that day, although it was unusually fine; and he was by no means gratified to find himself led on by the chase to a very unusual distance. But to leave Sir Patrick was impossible. He was therefore compelled, very much against his inclination, to ride all day like a lifeless trunk, whilst his spirit was hovering over the far-off towers of Hailes Castle. The deer was killed so far from home, that it was later than ordinary before the party returned.
“I am surprised Isabelle is not already here to receive us,” said Sir Patrick, as they entered the banquet hall; “I trowed she might have been impatient for our return ere this. Gabriel,” said he to the old seneschal, “go, I pr’ythee, to Mary Hay, and let her tell her lady that we are come home, and that we have brought good appetites with us.”
Gabriel went, and soon returned with Mary Hay herself, who appeared in great agitation.
“Where is thy lady?” demanded Sir Patrick, with an expression of considerable anxiety.