Windsor Castle [137]
inspire you with terror and aversion," pursued "the time will come when you will love me as passionately as I was beloved by one of whom you are the image."
And she is dead? "asked Mabel, with curiosity.
"Dead I" exclaimed Herne. "Thrice fifty years have flown since she dwelt upon earth. The acorn which was shed in the forest has grown into a lusty oak, while trees at that time in their pride have fallen and decayed away. Dead!--yes, she has passed from all memory save mine, where she will ever dwell. Generations of men have gone down to the grave since her time--a succession of kings have lodged within the castle but I am still a denizen of the forest. For crimes I then committed I am doomed to wander within it,and I shall haunt it, unless released, till the crack of doom."
"Liberate me!" cried Mabel; "liberate your other prisoner and we will pray for your release."
"No more of this!" cried Herne fiercely. "If you would not call down instant and terrible punishment on your head - punishment that I cannot avert, and must inflict--you will mention nothing sacred in my hearing, and never allude to prayer, I am beyond the reach of salvation."
"Oh, say not so! "cried Mabel, in a tone of commiseration. "I will tell you how my doom was accomplished," rejoined Herne wildly. "To gain her of whom I have just spoken, and who was already vowed to Heaven, I invoked the powers of darkness. I proffered my soul to the Evil One if he would secure her to me, and the condition demanded by him was that I should become what I am--the fiend of the forest, with power to terrify and to tempt, and with other more fearful and fatal powers besides."
"Oh! "exclaimed Mabel.
"I grasped at the offer," pursued Herne. "She I loved became mine. But she was speedily snatched from me by death, and since then I have known no human passion except hatred and revenge. I have dwelt in this forest, sometimes alone, sometimes at the head of a numerous band, but always exerting a baneful influence over mankind. At last, I saw the image of her I loved again appear before me, and the old passion was revived within my breast. Chance has thrown you in my way, and mine you shall be, Mabel."
"I will die rather," she replied, with a shudder.
"You cannot escape me," rejoined He me, with a triumphant laugh; "you cannot avoid your fate. But I want not to deal harshly with you. I love you, and would win you rather by persuasion than by force. Consent to be mine, then, and I give Wyat his life and liberty."
"I cannot--I cannot!" she replied.
"Not only do I offer you Wyat's life as the price of your compliance," persevered Herne; "but you shall have what ever else you may seek-- jewels, ornaments, costly attire, treasure--for of such I possess a goodly store."
"And of what use would they be to me here?" said Mabel.
"I will not always confine you to this cave," replied Herne."You shall go where you please, and live as you please, but you must come to me whenever I summon you."
"And what of my grandsire? "she demanded.
"Tristram Lyndwood is no relative of yours," replied Herne. "I will now clear up the mystery that hangs over your birth. You are the offspring of one who for years has exercised greater sway than the king within this realm, but who is now disgraced and ruined, and nigh his end. His priestly vows forbid him to own you, even if he desired to do so."
"Have I seen him?" demanded Mabel.
"You have," replied Herne; "and he has seen you--and little did he know when he sought you out, that he was essaying to maintain his own power, and overturn that of another, by the dishonour of his daughter-- though if he had done so," he added, with a scoffing laugh," it might not have restrained him."
"I know whom you mean" said Mabel. "And is it possible he can be my father?"
"It is as I have told you," replied Herne. "You now know my resolve. To- morrow at midnight our nuptials shall take place."
"Nuptials!" echoed Mabel.
"Ay, at that altar," he cried, pointing to the Druid pile of stones; "there you
And she is dead? "asked Mabel, with curiosity.
"Dead I" exclaimed Herne. "Thrice fifty years have flown since she dwelt upon earth. The acorn which was shed in the forest has grown into a lusty oak, while trees at that time in their pride have fallen and decayed away. Dead!--yes, she has passed from all memory save mine, where she will ever dwell. Generations of men have gone down to the grave since her time--a succession of kings have lodged within the castle but I am still a denizen of the forest. For crimes I then committed I am doomed to wander within it,and I shall haunt it, unless released, till the crack of doom."
"Liberate me!" cried Mabel; "liberate your other prisoner and we will pray for your release."
"No more of this!" cried Herne fiercely. "If you would not call down instant and terrible punishment on your head - punishment that I cannot avert, and must inflict--you will mention nothing sacred in my hearing, and never allude to prayer, I am beyond the reach of salvation."
"Oh, say not so! "cried Mabel, in a tone of commiseration. "I will tell you how my doom was accomplished," rejoined Herne wildly. "To gain her of whom I have just spoken, and who was already vowed to Heaven, I invoked the powers of darkness. I proffered my soul to the Evil One if he would secure her to me, and the condition demanded by him was that I should become what I am--the fiend of the forest, with power to terrify and to tempt, and with other more fearful and fatal powers besides."
"Oh! "exclaimed Mabel.
"I grasped at the offer," pursued Herne. "She I loved became mine. But she was speedily snatched from me by death, and since then I have known no human passion except hatred and revenge. I have dwelt in this forest, sometimes alone, sometimes at the head of a numerous band, but always exerting a baneful influence over mankind. At last, I saw the image of her I loved again appear before me, and the old passion was revived within my breast. Chance has thrown you in my way, and mine you shall be, Mabel."
"I will die rather," she replied, with a shudder.
"You cannot escape me," rejoined He me, with a triumphant laugh; "you cannot avoid your fate. But I want not to deal harshly with you. I love you, and would win you rather by persuasion than by force. Consent to be mine, then, and I give Wyat his life and liberty."
"I cannot--I cannot!" she replied.
"Not only do I offer you Wyat's life as the price of your compliance," persevered Herne; "but you shall have what ever else you may seek-- jewels, ornaments, costly attire, treasure--for of such I possess a goodly store."
"And of what use would they be to me here?" said Mabel.
"I will not always confine you to this cave," replied Herne."You shall go where you please, and live as you please, but you must come to me whenever I summon you."
"And what of my grandsire? "she demanded.
"Tristram Lyndwood is no relative of yours," replied Herne. "I will now clear up the mystery that hangs over your birth. You are the offspring of one who for years has exercised greater sway than the king within this realm, but who is now disgraced and ruined, and nigh his end. His priestly vows forbid him to own you, even if he desired to do so."
"Have I seen him?" demanded Mabel.
"You have," replied Herne; "and he has seen you--and little did he know when he sought you out, that he was essaying to maintain his own power, and overturn that of another, by the dishonour of his daughter-- though if he had done so," he added, with a scoffing laugh," it might not have restrained him."
"I know whom you mean" said Mabel. "And is it possible he can be my father?"
"It is as I have told you," replied Herne. "You now know my resolve. To- morrow at midnight our nuptials shall take place."
"Nuptials!" echoed Mabel.
"Ay, at that altar," he cried, pointing to the Druid pile of stones; "there you