Aylwin

With that he left the house.

The Gypsy girl looked at me from head to foot, and exclaimed,

"Lucky for you, my fine fellow, that I"m a duke"s chavi, an" mustn"t fight, else I"d pretty soon ask you outside and settle this off in no time. But you"d better keep clear of Mrs. Davies"s cottage, I can tell you. Every stick in that house is mine."

And, forgetting in her rage to pay her score, she picked up her strange-looking musical instrument, put it into a bag, and stalked out.

"She"s got a queer temper of her own," said the landlord; "but she ain"t a bad sort for all that. She"s clever, too: she"s the only woman in Wales, they say, as can play on the crwth now since Mrs.

Davies is dead, what larnt her to do it."

"The crwth?"

"The old ancient Welsh fiddle what can draw the Sperrits o" Snowdon when it"s played by a vargin. I dessay you"ve often heard the sayin"

"The sperrits follow the crwth." She makes a sight o" money by playin" on that fiddle in the houses o" the gentlefolk, and she"s as proud as the very deuce. Ain"t a bad sort, though, for all that."

II

That I determined to cultivate the acquaintance of Sinfi Lovell I need scarcely say. But my first purpose was to see the cottage. The landlord showed me the way to it. He warned me that a storm was coming on, but I did not let that stay me. Ma.s.ses of dark clouds were gathering, and there was every sign of a heavy rainstorm as I went out along the road in the direction indicated.

There was a damp boisterous wind, that seemed blowing from all points of the compa.s.s at once, and in a minute I was caught in a swirl of blinding rain. I took no heed of it, however, but hurried along the lonely road till I reached the cottage, which I knew at once was the one I sought. It was picturesque, but had a deserted look.

It was not till I stood in front or the door that I began to consider what I really intended to do in case I found her there. A heedless, impetuous desire to see her--to get possession of her--had brought me to Wales. But what was to be my course of action if I found her I had never given myself time to think.

If I could only clasp her in my arms and tell her I was Henry, I felt that she must, even in madness, know me and cling to me. I could not realise that any insanity could estrange her from me if I could only get near her.

I put my thumb upon the old-fashioned latch, and found that the door was not locked. It yielded to my touch, and with a throbbing of every pulse, I pushed it open and looked in.

In front of me rose a staircase, steep and narrow. There was sufficient evening light to enable me to see up the staircase, and to distinguish two black bedroom doors, now closed, on the landing. I stood on the wet threshold till my nerves grew calmer. On my right and on my left the doors of the two rooms on the ground floor were open. I could see that the one on my left was stripped of furniture.

I entered the room on my right--a low room of some considerable length, with heavy beams across the ceiling, which in that light seemed black. Two or three chairs and a table were in it. There was a brisk fire, and over it a tea-kettle of the kind much favoured by Gypsies, as I afterwards learnt. There was no grate, but an open hearth, exactly like the one in Wynne"s cottage, where Winifred and I used to stand in summer evenings to see the sky, and the stars twinkling above the great sooty throat of the open chimney. I now perceived the crwth and bow upon the table. Sinfi Lovell had evidently been here since we parted. On the walls hung a few of those highly coloured prints of Scriptural subjects which, at one time, used to be seen in English farm-houses, and are still the only works of art with the Welsh peasants and a few well-to-do Welsh Gypsies who would emulate Gorgio tastes.

On the left-hand side of the room was an arched recess, in which, no doubt, had stood at one time a sideboard, or some such piece of furniture. There was no occupant of the room, however, and I grew calmer as I stood before the fire, which drew from my wet clothes a cloud of steam. The ruddy fingers of the fire-gleam playing upon the walls made the colours of the pictures seem bright as the tints of stained gla.s.s. The pathetic message of those flickering rays flowed into my soul. The red mantle of the Prodigal Son, in which he was feeding the swine, shone as though it had been soaked in sorrow and blood-red sin. The house was apparently empty; the tension of my pa.s.sion became for the first time relaxed, and I pa.s.sed into a strange mood of pathos, dreamy, but yet acute, in which Winifred"s fate, and my mother"s harshness, and my father"s scarred breast, seemed all a mingled mystery of reminiscent pain.

I had not stood more than a minute, however, when I was startled into a very different mood. I thought I heard a sobbing noise, which seemed to me to come from some one overhead, some one lying upon the boards of the room above me. I was rooted to the spot where I stood, for the sob seemed scarcely human, and yet it seemed to be hers. A new feeling about Winifred"s madness came upon me. I recalled Mivart"s horrible description of the mimicry. My G.o.d! what was I about to see? I dared not turn and go upstairs: the fire and the singing tea-kettle were, at least, companions. But something impelled me to take the bow and draw it across the crwth-strings. Presently I thought I heard a door overhead softly open, and this was followed by the almost inaudible creak of a light footstep descending the stairs.

With paralysed pulses I kept my eyes fixed on the half-open door, in the certainty of seeing her pa.s.s along the little pa.s.sage leading from the staircase to the front door. But as I heard the dear footsteps descend stair after stair my horror left me, and I nearly began to sob myself. My thoughts now were all for her safety. I slipped into the recess, fearing to take her by surprise.

Soon the slim girlish figure pa.s.sed into the room. And as I saw her glide along I was stunned, as though I had not expected to see her, as though I had not known the footstep coming down the stairs.

With her eyes fixed on the fireplace, she brushed past me without perceiving me, took a chair, and sat down in front of the fire, her elbows resting on her knees, and her face meditatively sunk between her hands. Her sobbing bad ceased, and unless my ears deceived me, had given place to an occasional soft happy gurgle of childish laughter.

I stepped out from the shelter of my archway into the middle of the room, dubious as to what course to pursue. I thought that, on the whole, the movement that would startle her least would be to slip quietly out of the room and out of the house while she was in the reverie, then knock at the door. She would arouse herself then, expecting to see some one, and would not be so entirely taken by surprise at the sight of my face as she would have been at finding me, without the slightest warning, standing behind her in the room.

I did this: I slipped out at the door and knocked, gently at first, but got no answer; then a little louder--no answer; then louder and louder, till at last I thundered at the door in a state of growing alarm; still no answer.

"She is stone deaf," I thought; and now I remembered having noticed, as she brushed past me, a far-off gaze in her eyes, such as some stone-deaf people show.

I re-entered the house. There she was, sitting immovably before the fire, in the same reverie. I coughed and hemmed, softly at first, then more loudly, finally with such vigour that I ran the risk of damaging my throat, and still there was no movement of that head bent over the fire and resting in the palms of the hands. At last I made a step forward, then another, finally finding myself on the knitted cloth hearthrug beside her. I now had the full view of her profile.

That she should be still unconscious of my presence was unaccountable, for I stood at the end of the rug gazing at her. Again I coughed and hemmed, but without producing the smallest effect. Then I determined to address her; but I thought it would be safer to do so as a stranger than to announce myself at once as Henry.

"I beg pardon," I said, "but is there any one at home?"

No answer.

"Is this the way to Capel Curig?

No answer.

"Will you give me shelter?" I said; and finally I gave a desperate "halloo."

My efforts had not produced the slightest effect. I was now in a state of great agitation. That she was stone deaf seemed evident. But was she not in some kind of fit, though without the contortions of face Mivart had described to me--contortions which haunted me as much as though I had seen them? I stooped down and gazed into her face.

There was now no terror there, nor even sorrow. I could see in her eyes sparks of pleasure, as in the eyes of an infant when it seems to see in the air pictures or colours to which our eyes are blind. Round about her cheek and mouth a little dimple was playing, exactly like the dimple that plays around the mouth of a pleased child. This marvellous expression on her face recalled to me what Mivart had said as to the form her dementia a.s.sumed between one paroxysm and another.

"Thank G.o.d," thought I, "she"s not in a fit: she"s only deaf."

Driven to desperation, however, I seized her shoulder and shook it.

This aroused her. She started up with violence, at the same time overturning the chair upon which she had been sitting. She stared at me wildly. The danger of what I had done struck me now. A fortunate inspiration caused me to say, "Tywysog o"r Niwl." Then there broke over her face a sweet smile of childish pleasure. She made a graceful curtsey, and said, "You"ve come at last; I was thinking about you all the while."

Shall I ever forget her expression? Her eyes were alive with light and pleasure. It was as though Winifred"s soul had fled or the soul of her childhood had re-entered and taken possession of her body. But the witchery of her expression no words can describe. Never had I seen her so lovely as now. Often when a child I had seen the boatmen on the sands look at us as we pa.s.sed--seen them stay in the midst of their toil, their dull faces brightening with admiration, as though a bar of unexpected sunlight had fallen across them. In the fields I had seen labourers, sitting at their simple dinner under the hedges, stay their meal to look after the child--so winning, dazzling, and strange was her beauty. And when I had first met her again, a child no longer, in the churchyard, my memory had accepted her at once as fulfilling, and more than fulfilling, all her childhood"s promise.

But never had she looked so bewitching as now--a poor mad girl who had lost her wits from terror.

For some time I could only keep murmuring: "More lovely mad than sane!"

"As if I didn"t _know_ the Prince!" said she. "You who, in fine weather or cloudy, wet or dry, are there on the hills to meet me! As if I don"t know the Prince of the Mist when I see him! But how kind of you to come down here and see poor Winnie, poor lonely Winnie, at home!"

She fetched a chair, placed it in front of the fire, pointed to it with the same ravishingly childlike smile, indicating that it was for me, and then, when she saw me mechanically sit down, picked up her chair and came and sat close beside me.

In a second she was lost in a reverie as profound as that from which I had aroused her; and the only sound I heard was the rain on the window and the fitful gusts of wind playing around the cottage.

The wind having blown open the door, I got up to shut it. Winifred rose too, and again taking hold of my hand, she looked up into my face with a smile, and said, "Don"t go; I"m so lonely--poor Winnie"s so lonely."

As I held her hand in mine, and closed my other hand over it, I murmured to myself, "If G.o.d will only give her to me like this--mad like this--I will be content."

"Dearest," I said, longing to put my arm round her waist--to kiss her own pa.s.sionless lips--but I dared not, lest I might frighten her away, "I will not leave you. I will never leave you. You shall never be lonely any more."

I closed the door, and we resumed our seats.

Can I put into words what pa.s.sed within my soul as we two sat by the fire, she holding my hand in her own--holding it as innocently as a child holds the hand of its mother? Can I put into words my mingled feelings of love and pity and wild grief, as I sat looking at her and murmuring, "Yes; if G.o.d will only give her to me like _this_, I will be content"?

"Prince," said she, "your eyes look very kind!--Sweet, sweet eyes,"

she continued, looking at me. "The Prince of the Mist has love-eyes,"

she repeated, as she placed the seats before the fire again.

Then I heard her murmur, "Love-eyes! love-eyes! Henry"s love-eyes!"

Then a terrible change came over her. She sprang up and came and peered in my face. An indescribable expression of terror overspread her features, her nostrils expanded, her lips were drawn tightly over her teeth, her eyes seemed starting from their sockets; her throat suddenly became fluted like the throat of an aged woman, then veined with knotted, cruel cords. Then she stood as transfixed, and her face was mimicking that appalling look on her father"s face which I had seen in the moonlight. With a yell of "Father!" she leapt from me.

Then she rushed from the house, and I could hear her run by the window, crying, "Cursed, cursed, cursed by Henry"s father!"

For an instant the movement took away my breath; but I soon recovered and sprang after her to the door.