Bab Bab 18 · THE MAID GIVES WALTER TRYST

. THE MAID GIVES WALTER TRYST

Now, on the morrow, when Walter was awake, he found there was no one

lying beside him, and the day was no longer very young; so he arose, and

went through the garden from end to end, and all about, and there was

none there; and albeit that he dreaded to meet the Lady there, yet was he

sad at heart and fearful of what might betide. Howsoever, he found the

gate whereby they had entered yesterday, and he went out into the little

dale; but when he had gone a step or two he turned about, and could see

neither garden nor fence, nor any sign of what he had seen thereof but

lately. He knit his brow and stood still to think of it, and his heart

grew the heavier thereby; but presently he went his ways and crossed the

stream, but had scarce come up on to the grass on the further side, ere

he saw a woman coming to meet him, and at first, full as he was of the

tide of yesterday and the wondrous garden, deemed that it would be the

Lady; but the woman stayed her feet, and, stooping, laid a hand on her

right ankle, and he saw that it was the Maid. He drew anigh to her, and

saw that she was nought so sad of countenance as the last time she had

met him, but flushed of cheek and bright-eyed.

As he came up to her she made a step or two to meet him, holding out her

two hands, and then refrained her, and said smiling: "Ah, friend, belike

this shall be the last time that I shall say to thee, touch me not, nay,

not so much as my hand, or if it were but the hem of my raiment."

The joy grew up in his heart, and he gazed on her fondly, and said: "Why,

what hath befallen of late?"

"O friend," she began, "this hath befallen."

But as he looked on her, the smile died from her face, and she became

deadly pale to the very lips; she looked askance to her left side,

whereas ran the stream; and Walter followed her eyes, and deemed for one

instant that he saw the misshapen yellow visage of the dwarf peering

round from a grey rock, but the next there was nothing. Then the Maid,

though she were as pale as death, went on in a clear, steady, hard voice,

wherein was no joy or kindness, keeping her face to Walter and her back

to the stream: "This hath befallen, friend, that there is no longer any

need to refrain thy love nor mine; therefore I say to thee, come to my

chamber (and it is the red chamber over against thine, though thou

knewest it not) an hour before this next midnight, and then thy sorrow

and mine shall be at an end: and now I must needs depart. Follow me not,

but remember!"

And therewith she turned about and fled like the wind down the stream.

But Walter stood wondering, and knew not what to make of it, whether it

were for good or ill: for he knew now that she had paled and been seized

with terror because of the upheaving of the ugly head; and yet she had

seemed to speak out the very thing she had to say. Howsoever it were, he

spake aloud to himself: Whatever comes, I will keep tryst with her.

Then he drew his sword, and turned this way and that, looking all about

if he might see any sign of the Evil Thing; but nought might his eyes

behold, save the grass, and the stream, and the bushes of the dale. So

then, still holding his naked sword in his hand, he clomb the bent out of

the dale; for that was the only way he knew to the Golden House; and when

he came to the top, and the summer breeze blew in his face, and he looked

down a fair green slope beset with goodly oaks and chestnuts, he was

refreshed with the life of the earth, and he felt the good sword in his

fist, and knew that there was might and longing in him, and the world

seemed open unto him.

So he smiled, if it were somewhat grimly, and sheathed his sword and went

on toward the house.