"You will not know me if I declare myself, Mabel," he replied, "but I am called Sir Thomas Wyat.""The name is well known to me," she replied, in trembling tones; "and Ihave seen you once--at my grandfather's cottage.But why have you come here? Do you know where you are?
"I know that I am in the cave of Herne the Hunter," replied Wyat; "and one of my motives for seeking it was to set you free.But there is nothing to prevent your flight now.""Alas! there is," she replied." I am chained here by bonds I cannot break.Herne has declared that any attempt at escape on my part shall be followed by the death of my grandsire.And he does not threaten idly, as no doubt you know.Besides, the most terrible vengeance would fall on my own head.No,--I cannot--dare not fly.But let us not talk in the dark.Come with me to procure a light.Give me your hand, and Iwill lead you to my cell."
Taking the small, trembling hand offered him, Wyat followed his conductress down the passage.A few steps brought them to a door, which she pushed aside, and disclosed a small chamber, hewn out of the rock, in a recess of which a lamp was burning.Lighting the lamp which she had recently extinguished, she placed it on a rude table.
"Have you been long a prisoner here?" asked Wyat, fixing his regards upon her countenance, which, though it had lost somewhat of its bloom, had gained much in interest and beauty.
"For three months, I suppose," she replied; "but I am not able to calculate the lapse of time.It has seemed very--very long.Oh that Icould behold the sun again, and breathe the fresh, pure air!
"Come with me, and you shall do so," rejoined Wyat.
"I have told you I cannot fly," she answered."I cannot sacrifice my grandsire.""But if he is leagued with this demon he deserves the worst fate that can befall him," said Wyat."You should think only of your own safety.
What can be the motive of your detention?"I tremble to think of it," she replied; " but I fear that Herne has conceived a passion for me.""Then indeed you must fly," cried Wyat; "such unhallowed love will tend to perdition of soul and body.""Oh that there was any hope for me!" she ejaculated.
"There is hope," replied Wyat."I will protect you--will care for you--will love you.""Love me! "exclaimed Mabel, a deep blush overspreading her pale features."You love another.""Absence has enabled me to overcome the vehemence of my passion,"replied Wyat, "and I feel that my heart is susceptible of new emotions.
But you, maiden," he added coldly," you are captivated by the admiration of the king.""My love, like yours, is past," she answered, with a faint smile; "but if Iwere out of Herne's power I feel that I could love again, and far more deeply than I loved before--for that, in fact, was rather the result of vanity than of real regard.""Mabel," said Wyat, taking her hand, and gazing into her eyes," if I set you free, will you love me?""I love you already," she replied; "but if that could be, my whole life should be devoted to you.Ha!" she exclaimed with a sudden change of tone, "footsteps are approaching; it is Fenwolf.Hide yourself within that recess."Though doubting the prudence of the course, Wyat yielded to her terrified and imploring looks, and concealed himself in the manner she had indicated.He was scarcely ensconed in the recess, when the door opened, and Morgan Fenwolf stepped in, followed by her grandfather.
Fenwolf gazed suspiciously round the little chamber, and then glanced significantly at old Tristram, but he made no remark.
"What brings you here?" demanded Mabel tremblingly.
"You are wanted in the cave," said Fenwolf.
"I will follow you anon," she replied.
"You must come at once," rejoined Fenwolf authoritatively."Herne will become impatient."Upon this Mabel rose, and, without daring to cast a look towards the spot where Wyat was concealed, quitted the cell with them.No sooner were they all out, than Fenwolf, hastily shutting the door, turned the key in the lock, and taking it out, exclaimed, "So we have secured you, Sir Thomas Wyat.No fear of your revealing the secret of the cave now, or flying with Mabel--ha! ha!" to hereIII.In what manner Herne declared his Passion for Mabel.
Utterly disregarding her cries and entreaties, Fenwolf dragged Mabel into the great cavern, and forced her to take a seat on a bench near the spot where a heap of ashes showed that the fire was ordinarily lighted.
All this while, her grandfather had averted his face from her, as if fearing to meet her regards, and he now busied himself in striking a light and setting fire to a pile of fagots and small logs of wood.
"I thought you told me Herne was here," said Mabel in a tone of bitter reproach, to Fenwolf, who seated himself beside her on the bench.
"He will be here ere long," he replied sullenly.
"Oh, do not detain Sir Thomas Wyat!" cried Mabel piteously; "do not deliver him to your dread master! Do what you will with me--but let him go.""I will tell you what I will do," replied Fenwolf, in a low tone; "I will set Sir Thomas at liberty, and run all risks of Herne's displeasure, if you will promise to be mine."Mabel replied by a look of unutterable disgust.
"Then he will await Herne's coming where he is," rejoined Fenwolf.
Saying which he arose, and, pushing a table near the bench, took the remains of a huge venison pasty and a loaf from a hutch standing on one side of the cavern.
By this time Old Tristram, having succeeded in lighting the fire, placed himself at the farther end of the table, and fell to work upon the viands with Fenwolf.Mabel was pressed to partake of the repast, but she declined the offer.A large stone bottle was next produced and emptied of its contents by the pair, who seemed well contented with their regale.
