Chapter IV (4)

And they rolled over and over on the ground, even as do men when they fight, saying no word from first to last. The horror of it smote me that I fell down upon my knees and was dumb. Now my little lady was uppermost, now Mistress Marian. And had not my lady been strong with despair, Mistress Marian could 'a' mastered her o' th' instant. But she fought like a she-wolf brought to bay, with teeth and talons too, and 'twas almost as though two of a size had fought there. Howbeit, with a sudden move, Mistress Marian flung my lady down, and set her knee upon her, and held her, and looked from side to side, as though at a loss, and my lady's strength was fast failing.

When I saw that, I could bide still no longer, but ran forward, crying to Mistress Marian to be gentle with her.

She answered but these words, "Nurse, take off my girdle and bind thy lady's hands with it." And there was that in her voice I dared not disobey. So I bound my lady's hands, she saying never a word, and when the girdle was fast knotted, Mistress Marian helped her gently enough to rise, and bidding me have a care o' her, turned and drew back the bolt from the door o' the cave.

The last light o' the sun fell like a golden lance across the threshold, and across my lord as he lay there, face down, with his hands against the sill o' th' door.

And she stooped down over him, saying, "He hath fainted for lack o' food," but I knew that there was both wine and bread i' th' cave. And she called his name, but he was silent. And she called him again and again. And at last she bade me come to her side, and when we had turned him upon his side so that his face was towards us, behold, he was dead. But Mistress Marian saith again, "He hath swooned away." And she put her hand upon his brow, but no sooner did she touch it than she cried out at its coldness, and shook the dead man in her frenzy, crying,

"Ernle! Ernle! thou art free! Wake, man! thou art free!"

I said, "Mistress, mistress, for love of God! Dost thou not see that neither thou nor any other can wake him more?"

Thereat she fell back upon her knees, leaning upon one arm. And she said, "Dost thou mean--"

I bowed down mine head, for I could not meet her eyes. And she fell upon his body, and stirred no more, so that when they came to bear the poor young lord to the castle, they did bear her also. And for some hours we thought her dead.

Now when my lady saw them how they lay there, and the sunlight red upon them like to blood, she came and kneeled down in front o' me, and lifted up her poor fettered hands meekly, like a little child. And she said, "Nurse, I pray you tell me what it doth mean, for methinks I am waxing foolish, like poor Marjory i' th' village whose man fell from the cliff."

I could not answer her for sobbing.

And she said, "Do they sleep?"

And I nodded my head, for I could say no word.

She said, "Pray you, do not wake them. An they sleep till the morrow, all will be well." Suddenly her wits came back upon her with a rush, as doth a wind that hath seemed to be gone for aye. And she snapt the girdle on her wrists like as it had been a thread o' silk, and ran and laid hold on him with her hands, and dragged him forth upon the grass. And she saith,

"Ernle! Ernle! Ernle! What! wilt thou not answer me, now that thou art free? See! thou mayest ride to war. It is not yet too late. What there, nurse! My lord's charger! Run! run!" Then leaped she to her feet with one cry that methought would 'a' cracked the welkin in twain above our heads.

"Dead! Oh God in heaven!"

So for an instant she stood, with her arms reached high above her head, and her eyes upon him as he lay at her feet, even as a flame doth poise for a breath ere sinking again upon the coals. But anon she dropped down beside him, and beat her forehead with the lower palms o' her hands, and she saith, "Well didst thou sign me with thy blood! well didst thou sign me with thy blood!" Then all at once did she peep up at me over her shoulder with one o' her winsome ways, and fell a-laughing softly.

"Nurse," saith she, "hath he not found a pretty way to punish me? He feigns it well--by'r lay'kin--doth he not, nurse?"

And she rocked to and fro, as she knelt beside him, laughing softly to herself, and ever and again she would reach forth one little hand, all scarred in her struggle with Mistress Marian, and would touch a stray lock into place, and once she bent over and kissed him, laughing softly, and nodding to herself very wisely. And she would sit that way, and rock herself to and fro, and smile upon the ground, and laugh softly, until the very day that she did die. And the last words that she did ever say were, "Just once, Ernle--just once."

* * * * *

(Nurse Crumpet rises and stirs the fire, amid a heavy silence, broken only by the little Lady Dorothy's sobs and the rushing of the wind outside the great hall.)

THE END.

TONY, THE MAID.

A Novelette. BY BLANCHE WILLIS HOWARD. Illustrated by CHARLES S. REINHART. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00.

"'Tony, the Maid,' is not only one of the best
pieces of work Miss Howard has yet done, but it is
one of the very best short stories of the year.
Tony herself is an original creation. There is no
maid like Tony in all fiction; and she is,
moreover, the only good thing, which is neither
superlatively beautiful nor emphatically a bore,
or both, that has come out of the Canton of
Lucerne since the days of William Tell. Even the
insatiate archer, when he is not mythical, is a
trifle wearing to the average mind, but Tony is
never tiresome and always grand.

"As a short story Miss Howard's 'Tony, the Maid'
has but one fault. It is too short. There is not
enough of Tony. She makes her exit too suddenly
and too completely. It is consoling to know,
however, that Miss Zschorcher is some day coming
to America as Mrs. Eduard Maler. Perhaps Tony the
Maid may figure as Tony the Matron and Tony the
Mother. Knowing her duty to her gracious Fraeulein,
no doubt she will."

A bright and lively sketch of an American woman
abroad, and characterized throughout by keen and
forcible phraseology and a very symmetrical
construction.--_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._

This is a very clever satire on one of the phases
of modern society, and the tale is told in a most
charming manner.--_Albany Press._

It is a long time since we have met with anything
so charming, so refreshing, so droll. . . . Read
this book once, and one wants to turn back and read
it again.--_N. Y. Star._

Mr. Reinhart's illustrations greatly enhance the
interest of the novelette.--_Buffalo Commercial
Advertiser._

A story written in a style as simple as that which
Miss Howard has adopted in this novelette is sure
to find many readers. The story is well told and
attractive.--_Troy Press._

"Tony, the Maid," is safe for a great success with
the lovers of the bright and dainty in literature.
It is prettily bound, and uncommonly cleverly
illustrated.--_N. Y. Graphic._

The story is told with infinite humor and with not
a little pathos, and it will well repay
perusal.--_Philadelphia Telegraph._

The plot is new, the characters are fresh, and the
handling is spirited and brisk. No one who
commences this little book will stop reading until
the end is reached.--_Chicago Journal._

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.

_The above work sent by mail, postage
prepaid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on
receipt of the price._

BY CONSTANCE F. WOOLSON.

EAST ANGELS. pp. 592. 16mo, Cloth, $1 25.

ANNE. Illustrated. pp. 540. 16mo, Cloth, $1 25.

FOR THE MAJOR. pp. 208. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00.

CASTLE NOWHERE. pp. 386. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. (_A New Edition._)

RODMAN THE KEEPER. Southern Sketches. pp. 340. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. (_A New Edition._)

* * * * *

There is a certain bright cheerfulness in Miss
Woolson's writing which invests all her characters
with lovable qualities.--_Jewish Advocate, N. Y._

Miss Woolson is among our few successful writers
of interesting magazine stories, and her skill and
power are perceptible in the delineation of her
heroines no less than in the suggestive pictures
of local life.--_Jewish Messenger, N. Y._

Constance Fenimore Woolson may easily become the
novelist laureate.--_Boston Globe._

Miss Woolson has a graceful fancy, a ready wit, a
polished style, and conspicuous dramatic power;
while her skill in the development of a story is
very remarkable.--_London Life._

Miss Woolson never once follows the beaten track
of the orthodox novelist, but strikes a new and
richly loaded vein, which so far is all her own;
and thus we feel, on reading one of her works, a
fresh sensation, and we put down the book with a
sigh to think our pleasant task of reading it is
finished. The author's lines must have fallen to
her in very pleasant places; or she has, perhaps,
within herself the wealth of womanly love and
tenderness she pours so freely into all she
writes. Such books as hers do much to elevate the
moral tone of the day--a quality sadly wanting in
novels of the time.--_Whitehall Review, London._

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.

_The above works sent by mail, postage
prepaid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt
of the price._

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 112, "desert" changed to "dessert" (dessert, I'll warrant)

Page 187, "Mistres" changed to "Mistress" (Mistress Marion in long)