Page:Traditional Tales of the English and Scottish Peasantry - 1887.djvu/112

108 and mirth and music and the march of the wine-cup recommenced with a vigour which promised reparation for the late intermission.

The chamber, or rather temporary prison, of Dora Vernon was nigh the cross-bow room, and had a window which looked out on the terraced garden and the extensive chase towards the hill of Haddon. All that side of the Hall lay in deep shadow, and the moon, sunk to the very summit of the western heath, threw a level and a farewell beam over river and tower. The young lady of Haddon seated herself in the recessed window, and lent her ear to every sound and her eye to every shadow that flitted over the garden and chase. Her attendant maiden—shrewd, demure, and suspicious, of the ripe age of thirty, yet of a merry, pleasant look, which had its admirers—sat watching every motion with the eye of an owl.

It was past midnight, when a foot came gliding along the passage, and a finger gave three slight scratches on the door of the chamber. The maid went out, and after a brief conference suddenly returned, red with blushes from ear to ear. "Oh, my lady!" said the trusty maiden, "oh, my sweet young lady! here's that poor young lad—ye know his name—who gave me three yards of crimson ribbon to trim my peach-bloom mantle, last Bakewell Fair. An honester or a kinder heart never kept a promise; and yet I may not give him the meeting. Oh, my young lady! my sweet young lady! my beautiful young lady! could you not stay here for half an hour by yourself?" Ere her young mistress could answer, the notice of the lover's presence was renewed. The maiden again went, whispers were heard, and the audible salutation of lips; she returned again, more resolute than ever to oblige her lover. "Oh, my lady, my young lady! if ye ever hope to prosper in true love yourself, spare me but one half-hour with this harmless, kind lad. He has come seven long miles to see my fair face, he says; and, oh, my lady! he has a handsome face of his own. Oh, never let it be said that Dora Vernon sundered true lovers! But I see consent written in your own lovely face; so I will run. And oh, my lady! take care of your own sweet handsome self when your faithful Nan's away." And the maiden retired with her lover.

It was half an hour after midnight when one of the keepers of the chase, as he lay beneath a holly-bush, listening