Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (read along books TXT) 📕

devoted to the Earl of Surrey. Let me appeal to your noble nature—to your generosity—not to persist in a hopeless suit.”

“You have conquered madam,” said the duke, after a pause. “I have been to blame in this matter. But I will make amends for my error. Surrey, I relinquish her to you.”

“My friend!” exclaimed the earl, casting himself into the duke's arms.

“I will now endeavour to heal the wounds I have unwittingly occasioned,” said the Fair Geraldine. “I am surprised your grace should be insensible to attractions so far superior to mine as those of the Lady Mary Howard.”

“The Lady Mary is very beautiful, I confess,” said the duke; “and if you had not been in the way, I should assuredly have been her captive.”

“I ought not to betray the secret, perhaps,” hesitated the Fair Geraldine, “but gratitude prompts me to do so. The lady is not so blind to your grace's merits as I have been.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the duke. “If it be so, Surrey, we may yet be brothers as well as friends.”

“And that it is so I can avouch, Richmond,” rejoined the earl, “for I am in my sister's secret as well as the Fair Geraldine. But now that this explanation has taken place, I must entreat your grace to conduct the Fair Geraldine back to her lodgings, while I regain, the best way I can, my chamber in the Round Tower.”

“I marvel how you escaped from it,” said Richmond; “but I suppose it was by the connivance of the officer.”

“He who set me free—who brought the Fair Geraldine hither—and who, I suspect, acquainted you with our meeting, was no other than Herne the Hunter,” replied Surrey.

“You amaze me!” exclaimed the duke; “it was indeed a tall dark man, muffled in a cloak, who informed me that you were to meet at midnight in King James's bower in the moat, and I therefore came to surprise you.”

“Your informant was Herne,” replied Surrey.

“Right!” exclaimed the demon, stepping from behind a tree, where he had hitherto remained concealed; “it was I—I, Herne the Hunter. And I contrived the meeting in anticipation of a far different result from that which has ensued. But I now tell you, my lord of Surrey, that it is idle to indulge a passion for the Fair Geraldine. You will never wed her.”

“False fiend, thou liest!” cried Surrey.

“Time will show,” replied Herne. “I repeat, you will wed another—and more, I tell you, you are blinder than Richmond has shown himself—for the most illustrious damsel in the kingdom has regarded you with eyes of affection, and yet you have not perceived it.”

“The Princess Mary?” demanded Richmond.

“Ay, the Princess Mary,” repeated Herne. “How say you now, my lord?—will you let ambition usurp the place of love?”

“No,” replied Surrey. “But I will hold no further converse with thee. Thou wouldst tempt to perdition. Hence, fiend!”

“Unless you trust yourself to my guidance, you will never reach your chamber,” rejoined Herne, with a mocking laugh. “The iron door in the mound cannot be opened on this side, and you well know what the consequence of a discovery will be. Come, or I leave you to your fate.” And he moved down the path on the right.

“Go with him, Surrey,” cried Richmond.

Pressing the Fair Geraldine to his breast, the Earl committed her to the charge of his friend, and tearing himself away, followed the steps of the demon. He had not proceeded far when he heard his name pronounced by a voice issuing from the tree above him. Looking up, he saw Herne in one of the topmost branches, and at a sign, instantly climbed up to him. The thick foliage screened them from observation, and Surrey concluded his guide was awaiting the disappearance of the sentinel, who was at that moment approaching the tree. But such apparently was not the other's intentions; for the man had scarcely passed than Herne sprang upon the ramparts, and the poor fellow turning at the sound, was almost scared out of his senses at the sight of the dreaded fiend. Dropping his halbert, he fell upon his face with a stifled cry Herne then motioned Surrey to descend, and they marched together quickly to a low door opening into the keep. Passing through it, and ascending a flight of steps, they stood upon the landing at the top of the staircase communicating with the Norman Tower, and adjoining the entrance to Surrey's chamber.

Apparently familiar with the spot, Herne took down a large key from a nail in the wall, against which it hung, and unlocked the door.

“Enter,” he said to Surrey, “and do not forget the debt you owe to Herne the Hunter.”

And as the earl stepped into the chamber, the door was locked behind him.