Sweet Mace: A Sussex Legend of the Iron TimesFenn, George Manville
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Sweet Mace: A Sussex Legend of the Iron Times
Fenn, George Manville
Sussex (England) -- Fiction
"Things to come--things of the future--things of the many years. I see
a house in its bright garden burned up and destroyed, the blast of
powder, and the shrieks of the wounded; and I see a church, with a
wedding-party coming away, and the face of the man is hidden, but the
garb is that of an officer, and the face of the maid is that of Sir
Thomas Beckley's child."
The voice ceased, and Mistress Anne, whose eyes had been tightly closed,
opened them again, and saw that the cottage was light once more, and
that Mother Goodhugh was by her side.
"Whose face was it?" whispered the girl, half scornfully, half in awe.
"The voice spake not," said the woman, solemnly. "Come and see."
Anne Beckley felt a slight shrinking, but she rose directly, and
followed the old woman, who led her out at the back of the cottage,
plunging directly into the thick forest, and leading her by an overgrown
track farther and farther into its depths. Every now and then the girl
had to pause to free her dress from some briar or thorn which held her
tightly, and for the most part she had to proceed at a slow walk,
stooping the while to avoid the leaf-laden branches which in their
wealth of summer foliage bowed down to bar her way.
With intervals of stopping, Anne Beckley followed her guide for quite an
hour, during which time the old woman had kept on, evidently following
certain marks on trees which she carefully scanned.
"I will go no further, mother," cried Anne, throwing herself on a great
mossy block of stone which overhung a tiny, trickling stream, and wiping
her dewy forehead.
"Yes, you will, dearie," said the old woman, with a meaning smile.
"You'd go further than this to meet your love. You are hot and tired
now. Come down here and have a drink."
She dragged the branches aside with tender hand, and lightly bent back
the tall bracken, so as to make a way for the girl, who rose wearily,
and, following the old woman, found herself in a shady hollow between
the rocks which rose far above her head, while at her feet lay a clear
pool of cool delicious water, over which she bent, and was in the very
act of dipping in her hand to fill her soft white palm, and drink, when
she fancied she saw in the mirror-like surface the old woman's fingers
extended to thrust her in, and in a flash she seemed to see her object,
namely, to murder her for her money and trinkets.
She started up, but only to see Mother Goodhugh smiling at her, and,
ashamed of her fears, she drank, and turned to proceed. At the same
time she felt, though, how completely she was at her companion's mercy.
No one knew where she had come, or had seen her enter the cottage; and
now in the depths of the forest, did the old woman wish her evil, the
thick bushes and brambles would conceal her body, and the rapid growth
soon hide all signs of footsteps that might be tracked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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