Page:Traditional Tales of the English and Scottish Peasantry - 1887.djvu/113

Rh with a prolonged groan to the audible voice of revelry in the Hall, from which his duty had lately excluded him, happened to observe two forms approaching: one of low stature, a light step, and muffled in a common mantle; the other with the air and in the dress of a forester, a sword at his side and pistols in his belt. The ale and the wine had invaded the keeper's brain and impaired his sight; yet he roused himself up with a hiccup and a "Hilloah," and "Where go ye, my masters?" The lesser form whispered to the other, who immediately said, "Jasper Jugg, is this you? Heaven be praised I have found you so soon. Here's that North-country pedlar, with his beads and blue ribbon—he has come and whistled out pretty Nan Malkin, the lady's favourite and the lord's trusty maid. I left them under the terrace, and came to tell you."

The enraged keeper scarce heard this account of the faithlessness of his love to an end; he started off with the swiftness of one of the deer which he watched, making the boughs crash as he forced his way through bush and glade direct for the Hall, vowing desertion to the girl and destruction to the pedlar. "Let us hasten our steps, my love," said the lesser figure, in a sweet voice; and, unmantling as she spoke, turned back to the towers of Haddon the fairest face that ever left them—the face of Dora Vernon herself. "My men and my horses are nigh, my love," said the taller figure; and taking a silver call from his pocket, he imitated the sharp shrill cry of the plover; then turning round, he stood and gazed towards Haddon, scarcely darkened by the setting of the moon, for the festal lights flashed from turret and casement, and the sound of mirth and revelry rang with augmenting din. "Ah, fair and stately Haddon" said Lord John Manners, "little dost thou know thou hast lost thy jewel from thy brow, else thy lights would be dimmed, thy mirth would turn to wailing, and swords would be flashing from thy portals in all the haste of hot pursuit. Farewell, for a while, fair tower—farewell for a while! I shall return, and bless the time I harped among thy menials and sang of my love, and charmed her out of thy little chamber window." Several armed men now came suddenly down from the hill of Haddon, horses richly caparisoned were brought from among the trees of the chase, and the ancestors of the present family of Rutland sought shelter for a time in a a distant land from the wrath of the King of the Peak.