Thusthingswentontillthisdayofmymother’sdeath。
ButbeforeIgofurtherImusttellthatSquireBozardlookedwithnofavouronthefriendshipbetweenhisdaughterandmyself——andthis,notbecausehedislikedme,butratherbecausehewouldhaveseenLilyweddedtomyelderbrotherGeoffrey,myfather’sheir,andnottoayoungerson。
Soharddidhegrowaboutthematteratlastthatwetwomightscarcelymeetexceptbyseemingaccident,whereasmybrotherwaseverwelcomeattheHall。
Andonthisaccountsomebitternessarosebetweenustwobrothers,asisapttobethecasewhenawomancomesbetweenfriendshoweverclose。
ForitmustbeknownthatmybrotherGeoffreyalsolovedLily,asallmenwouldhavelovedher,andwithabetterrightperhapsthanIhad——forhewasmyelderbythreeyearsandborntopossessions。
ItmayseemindeedthatIwassomewhathastytofallintothisstate,seeingthatatthetimeofwhichIwriteIwasnotyetofage;butyoungbloodisnimble,andmoreoverminewashalfSpanish,andmadeamanofmewhenmanyapure-bredEnglishmanisstillnothingbutaboy。
Forthebloodandthesunthatripensithavemuchtodowithsuchmatters,asIhaveseenoftenenoughamongtheIndianpeoplesofAnahuac,whoattheageoffifteenwilltaketothemselvesabrideoftwelve。
AttheleastitiscertainthatwhenIwaseighteenyearsofageIwasoldenoughtofallinloveaftersuchfashionthatIneverfelloutofitagainaltogether,althoughthehistoryofmylifemayseemtogivemetheliewhenIsayso。
ButItakeitthatamanmayloveseveralwomenandyetloveoneofthemthebestofall,beingtrueinthespirittothelawwhichhebreaksintheletter。
NowwhenIhadattainednineteenyearsIwasamanfullgrown,andwritingasIdoinextremeoldage,Imaysayitwithoutfalseshame,averyhandsomeyouthtoboot。
Iwasnotovertall,indeed,measuringbutfivefeetnineinchesandahalfinheight,butmylimbswerewellmade,andIwasbothdeepandbroadinthechest。
IncolourIwas,andmywhitehairnotwithstanding,amstillextraordinarilydarkhued,myeyesalsowerelargeanddark,andmyhair,whichwaswavy,wascoalblack。
InmydeportmentIwasreservedandgravetosadness,inspeechIwasslowandtemperate,andmoreaptatlisteningthanintalking。
IweighedmatterswellbeforeImadeupmyminduponthem,butbeingmadeup,nothingcouldturnmefromthatmindshortofdeathitself,whetheritweresetongoodorevil,onfollyorwisdom。
InthosedaysalsoIhadlittlereligion,since,partlybecauseofmyfather’ssecretteachingandpartlythroughtheworkingsofmyownreason,IhadlearnedtodoubtthedoctrinesoftheChurchastheyusedtobesetout。
Youthispronetoreasonbylargeleapsasitwere,andtoholdthatallthingsarefalsebecausesomeareprovedfalse;andthusattimesinthosedaysIthoughtthattherewasnoGod,becausethepriestsaidthattheimageoftheVirginatBungayweptanddidotherthingswhichIknewthatitdidnotdo。
NowIknowwellthatthereisaGod,formyownstoryprovesittomyheart。
Intruth,whatmancanlookbackacrossalonglifeandsaythatthereisnoGod,whenhecanseetheshadowofHishandlyingdeepuponhistaleofyears?
OnthissaddayofwhichIwriteIknewthatLily,whomIloved,wouldbewalkingalonebeneaththegreatpollardoaksintheparkofDitchinghamHall。
Here,inGrubswellasthespotiscalled,grew,andindeedstillgrow,certainhawthorntreesthataretheearliesttoblowofanyintheseparts,andwhenwehadmetatthechurchdoorontheSunday,LilysaidthattherewouldbebloomuponthembytheWednesday,andonthatafternoonsheshouldgotocutit。
Itmaywellbethatshespokethuswithdesign,forlovewillbreedcunningintheheartofthemostguilelessandtruthfulmaid。
Moreover,Inoticedthatthoughshesaiditbeforeherfatherandtherestofus,yetshewaitedtospeaktillmybrotherGeoffreywasoutofhearing,forshedidnotwishtogomayingwithhim,andalsothatasshespokesheshotaglanceofhergreyeyesatme。
ThenandthereIvowedtomyselfthatIalsowouldbegatheringhawthornbloominthissameplaceandonthatWednesdayafternoon,yes,evenifImustplaytruantandleaveallthesickofBungaytoNature’snursing。
Moreover,Iwasdeterminedononething,thatifIcouldfindLilyaloneIwoulddelaynolonger,buttellherallthatwasinmyheart;nogreatsecretindeed,forthoughnowordoflovehadeverpassedbetweenusasyet,eachknewtheother’shiddenthoughts。
NotthatIwasinthewaytobecomeaffiancedtoamaid,whohadmypathtocutintheworld,butIfearedthatifI
delayedtomakesureofheraffectionmybrotherwouldbebeforemewithherfather,andLilymightyieldtothattowhichshewouldnotyieldifoncewehadplightedtroth。
NowitchancedthatonthisafternoonIwashardputtoittoescapetomytryst,formymaster,thephysician,wasailing,andsentmetovisitthesickforhim,carryingthemtheirmedicines。
Atthelast,however,betweenfourandfiveo’clock,Ifled,askingnoleave。
TakingtheNorwichroadIranforamileandmoretillI
hadpassedtheManorHouseandthechurchturn,anddrewneartoDitchinghamPark。
ThenIdroppedmypacetoawalk,forIdidnotwishtocomebeforeLilyheatedanddisordered,butratherlookingmybest,towhichendIhadputonmySundaygarments。
NowasI
wentdownthelittlehillintheroadthatrunspastthepark,I
sawamanonhorsebackwholookedfirstatthebridle-path,thatatthisspotturnsofftotheright,thenbackacrossthecommonlandstowardstheVineyardHillsandtheWaveney,andthenalongtheroadasthoughhedidnotknowwhichwaytoturn。
Iwasquicktonoticethings——thoughatthismomentmymindwasnotatitsswiftest,beingsetonothermatters,andchieflyastohowIshouldtellmytaletoLily——andIsawatoncethatthismanwasnotofourcountry。
Hewasverytallandnoble-looking,dressedinrichgarmentsofvelvetadornedbyagoldchainthathungabouthisneck,andasI
judgedaboutfortyyearsofage。
Butitwashisfacewhichchieflycaughtmyeye,foratthatmomenttherewassomethingterribleaboutit。
Itwaslong,thin,anddeeplycarved;theeyeswerelarge,andgleamedlikegoldinsunlight;themouthwassmallandwellshaped,butitworeadevilishandcruelsneer;theforeheadlofty,indicatingamanofmind,andmarkedwithaslightscar。
Fortherestthecavalierwasdarkandsouthern-looking,hiscurlinghair,likemyown,wasblack,andheworeapeakedchestnut-colouredbeard。
BythetimethatIhadfinishedtheseobservationsmyfeethadbroughtmealmosttothestranger’sside,andforthefirsttimehecaughtsightofme。
Instantlyhisfacechanged,thesneerleftit,anditbecamekindlyandpleasantlooking。
LiftinghisbonnetwithmuchcourtesyhestammeredsomethinginbrokenEnglish,ofwhichallthatIcouldcatchwasthewordYarmouth;thenperceivingthatIdidnotunderstandhim,hecursedtheEnglishtongueandallthosewhospokeit,aloudandingoodCastilian。
’IfthesenorwillgraciouslyexpresshiswishinSpanish,’Isaid,speakinginthatlanguage,’itmaybeinmypowertohelphim。’
’What!youspeakSpanish,youngsir,’hesaid,starting,’andyetyouarenotaSpaniard,thoughbyyourfaceyouwellmightbe。
Caramba!butitisstrange!’andheeyedmecuriously。
’Itmaybestrange,sir,’Ianswered,’butIaminhaste。
Bepleasedtoaskyourquestionandletmego。’
’Ah!’hesaid,’perhapsIcanguessthereasonofyourhurry。
I
sawawhiterobedownbythestreamletyonder,’andhenoddedtowardsthepark。
’Taketheadviceofanolderman,youngsir,andbecareful。
Makewhatsportyouwillwithsuch,butneverbelievethemandnevermarrythem——lestyoushouldlivetodesiretokillthem!’
HereImadeasthoughIwouldpasson,buthespokeagain。
’Pardonmywords,theywerewellmeant,andperhapsyoumaycometolearntheirtruth。
Iwilldetainyounomore。
WillyougraciouslydirectmeonmyroadtoYarmouth,forIamnotsureofit,havingriddenbyanotherway,andyourEnglishcountryissofulloftreesthatamancannotseeamile?’
Iwalkedadozenpacesdownthebridle-paththatjoinedtheroadatthisplace,andpointedoutthewaythatheshouldgo,pastDitchinghamchurch。
AsIdidsoInoticedthatwhileIspokethestrangerwaswatchingmyfacekeenlyand,asitseemedtome,withaninwardfearwhichhestrovetomasterandcouldnot。
WhenIhadfinishedagainheraisedhisbonnetandthankedme,saying,
’Willyoubesograciousastotellmeyourname,youngSir?’
’Whatismynametoyou?’Iansweredroughly,forIdislikedthisman。
’Youhavenottoldmeyours。’
’No,indeed,Iamtravellingincognito。
PerhapsIalsohavemetaladyintheseparts,’andhesmiledstrangely。
’Ionlywishedtoknowthenameofonewhohaddonemeacourtesy,butwhoitseemsisnotsocourteousasIdeemed。’
Andheshookhishorse’sreins。
’Iamnotashamedofmyname,’Isaid。
’Ithasbeenanhonestonesofar,andifyouwishtoknowit,itisThomasWingfield。’
’Ithoughtit,’hecried,andashespokehisfacegrewlikethefaceofafiend。
ThenbeforeIcouldfindtimeeventowonder,hehadsprungfromhishorseandstoodwithinthreepacesofme。
’Aluckyday!
Nowwewillseewhattruththereisinprophecies,’
hesaid,drawinghissilver-mountedsword。
’Anameforaname;
JuandeGarciagivesyougreeting,ThomasWingfield。’
Now,strangeasitmayseem,itwasatthismomentonlythatthereflashedacrossmymindthethoughtofallthatIhadheardabouttheSpanishstranger,thereportofwhosecomingtoYarmouthhadstirredmyfatherandmothersodeeply。
AtanyothertimeIshouldhaveremembereditsoonenough,butonthisdayIwassosetuponmytrystwithLilyandwhatIshouldsaytoher,thatnothingelsecouldholdaplaceinmythoughts。
’Thismustbetheman,’Isaidtomyself,andthenIsaidnomore,forhewasonme,swordup。
Isawthekeenpointflashtowardsme,andsprangtoonesidehavingadesiretofly,as,beingunarmedexceptformystick,Imighthavedonewithoutshame。
ButspringasIwouldIcouldnotavoidthethrustaltogether。
Itwasaimedatmyheartanditpiercedthesleeveofmyleftarm,passingthroughtheflesh——nomore。
Yetatthepainofthatcutallthoughtofflightleftme,andinsteadofitacoldangerfilledme,causingmetowishtokillthismanwhohadattackedmethusandunprovoked。
InmyhandwasmystoutoakenstaffwhichIhadcutmyselfonthebanksofHollowHill,andifIwouldfightImustmakesuchplaywiththisasImight。
ItseemsapoorweaponindeedtomatchagainstaToledobladeinthehandsofonewhocouldhandleitwell,andyettherearevirtuesinacudgel,forwhenamanseeshimselfthreatenedwithit,heislikelytoforgetthatheholdsinhishandamoredeadlyweapon,andtotaketotheguardingofhisownheadinplaceofrunninghisadversarythroughthebody。
Andthatwaswhatchancedinthiscase,thoughhowitcameaboutexactlyIcannottell。
TheSpaniardwasafineswordsman,andhadIbeenarmedashewaswoulddoubtlesshaveovermatchedme,whoatthatagehadnopracticeintheart,whichwasalmostunknowninEngland。
Butwhenhesawthebigstickflourishedoverhimheforgothisownadvantage,andraisedhisarmtowardawaytheblow。
Downitcameuponthebackofhishand,andlo!hisswordfellfromittothegrass。
ButIdidnotsparehimbecauseofthat,formybloodwasup。