The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen AnneJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
She consented at once, and went away to prepare. Nor was she long, for
in less than ten minutes, she and Marlow were crossing the park,
towards the older and thicker trees amidst which they had rambled once
before. But it was Marlow who now led her on a path which he chose
himself. I know not whether it was some memory of his walk with Mrs.
Hazleton, or whether it was that instinct which leads love to seek
shady places, or whether, like a skilful general, he had previously
reconnoitred the ground; but something or other in his own breast
induced him to deviate from the more direct track which they had
followed on their previous walk, and guide his fair companion across
the short dry turf towards the thickest part of the wood, through
which there penetrated, winding in and out amongst the trees, a small
path, just wide enough for two, bowered overhead by crossing branches,
and gaining sweet woodland scenes of light and shade at every step, as
the eye dived into the deep green stillness between the large old
trunks, carefully freed from underwood, and with their feet carpeted
with moss, and flowers, and fern. It was called the deer's track, from
the fact that along it, morning and evening, all the bucks and does
which had herded on that side of the park might be seen walking
stately down to or from a bright, clear-running trout-stream, that
wandered along about a quarter of a mile farther on; and often, in the
hot weather, a person standing half way down the walk might see a tall
antlered fellow standing with his forefeet in the water and his
hind-quarters raised upon the bank, gazing at himself in the liquid
mirror below, with all his graceful beauties displayed to the
uttermost by a burst of yellow light, which towards noon always poured
upon the stream at that place.
Marlow and Emily, however, were quite alone upon the walk. Not even a
hind or hart was there; and after the first two or three steps, Marlow
asked his fair companion to take his arm. She did so, readily; for she
needed it, not so much because the long gnarled roots of the trees
crossed the path from time to time, and offered slight impediments,
for usually her foot was light as air, but because she felt an
unaccountable languor upon her, a tremulous, agitated sort of unknown
happiness unlike any thing else she had ever before experienced.
Marlow drew her little hand through his arm then, and she rested upon
it, not with the light touch of a mere acquaintance, but with a gentle
confiding pressure which was very pleasant to him, and yet the
capricious man must needs every two or three minutes, change that
kindly position as the trees and irregularities of the walk afforded
an excuse. Now he placed Emily on the one side, now on the other, and
if she had thought at all (but by this time she was far past thought,)
she might have fancied that he did so solely for the purpose of once
more taking her hand in his to draw it through his arm again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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