Page:The fortunes of Perkin Warbeck.djvu/343

Rh Richard's horse was lively and refreshed after his generous draught, but these of the others flagged. The prince exerted himself to keep up the spirits of all; he rallied Skelton, spoke comfort to Astley, and good hope to Heron. The sturdy apprentice of danger, flight, and trouble, O'Water, treated it all as a matter of course—even hanging, if it so chanced, was but a likely accident—the others needed more encouragement. Astley feared for his lord, even to an appearance of timidity, which, though disinterested, had a bad effect on the others. Heron complained bitterly that his dinner had been left unfinished; while the poor tailor, now fancying that he would run away from all, now fearful of solitary misadventure, kept up a garrulous harangue, of which terror was the burthen and the sum, Richard's voice was cheerful, his manner gay; but, placing his hand on Astley, it felt scorching; every moment it required more energy to throw off the clinging lethargy that fell upon him. It was again evening—a circumstance that had caused them to enter deeper into the forest; and it was to be feared they had lost their way. All were weary—all, save Richard, hungry. The breeze had died away; the air was oppressive, and more and more it felt like a load intolerable to the prince's burning brow. Night began to close in so very dark, that the horses refused to go forward. Suddenly a roaring sound arose, which was not the sea; and, but that the atmosphere was so still, the wanderers would have said that it was a fierce wind among the trees. Such must it be, for now it came nearer; like living things, the vast giants of the forest tossed their branches furiously; and entire darkness and sudden pouring rain revealed the tempest, which their leafy prison had before hidden—all was so instantaneous, that it would seem that nature was undergoing some great revulsion in her laws. The prince's horse snorted and reared, while O'Water's dashed furiously on, striking against a tree, and throwing his rider, from whose lips there escaped a shriek. What would have been the last overflowing drop in the bitter cup to a weak mind, restored Richard—lassitude and despondency vanished. In an instant he was off his horse at O'Water's side, speaking in his own cheerful, kind voice. "Waste no moment on me," cried the generous mayor. "My leg is broken—I can go no further—speed you, your highness, to the sanctuary."

This was the end of hope—the raging storm, the disabled man, dark night, and Richard's resolve not to desert his follower, all were causes of terror and of despair.

A voice in the wood was heard calling aloud; no answer could be returned; it was repeated, and Astley went forward to