I -NANCE AT THE 'GREEN DRAGON'
NANCE HOLDAWAY was on her knees before the fire blowing the green wood that voluminously smoked upon the dogs,and only now and then shot forth a smothered flame;her knees already ached and her eyes smarted,for she had been some while at this ungrateful task,but her mind was gone far away to meet the coming stranger.Now she met him in the wood,now at the castle gate,now in the kitchen by candle-light;each fresh presentment eclipsed the one before;a form so elegant,manners so sedate,a countenance so brave and comely,a voice so winning and resolute -sure such a man was never seen!
The thick-coming fancies poured and brightened in her head like the smoke and flames upon the hearth.
Presently the heavy foot of her uncle Jonathan was heard upon the stair,and as he entered the room she bent the closer to her work.He glanced at the green fagots with a sneer,and looked askance at the bed and the white sheets,at the strip of carpet laid,like an island,on the great expanse of the stone floor,and at the broken glazing of the casement clumsily repaired with paper.
'Leave that fire a-be,'he cried.'What,have I toiled all my life to turn innkeeper at the hind end?Leave it a-be,Isay.'
'La,uncle,it doesn't burn a bit;it only smokes,'said Nance,looking up from her position.
'You are come of decent people on both sides,'returned the old man.'Who are you to blow the coals for any Robin-run-agate?Get up,get on your hood,make yourself useful,and be off to the "Green Dragon."'
'I thought you was to go yourself,'Nance faltered.
'So did I,'quoth Jonathan;'but it appears I was mistook.'
The very excess of her eagerness alarmed her,and she began to hang back.'I think I would rather not,dear uncle,'she said.'Night is at hand,and I think,dear,I would rather not.'
'Now you look here,'replied Jonathan,'I have my lord's orders,have I not?Little he gives me,but it's all my livelihood.And do you fancy,if I disobey my lord,I'm likely to turn round for a lass like you?No,I've that hell-fire of pain in my old knee,I wouldn't walk a mile,not for King George upon his bended knees.'And he walked to the window and looked down the steep scarp to where the river foamed in the bottom of the dell.
Nance stayed for no more bidding.In her own room,by the glimmer of the twilight,she washed her hands and pulled on her Sunday mittens;adjusted her black hood,and tied a dozen times its cherry ribbons;and in less than ten minutes,with a fluttering heart and excellently bright eyes,she passed forth under the arch and over the bridge,into the thickening shadows of the groves.A well-marked wheel-track conducted her.The wood,which upon both sides of the river dell was a mere scrambling thicket of hazel,hawthorn,and holly,boasted on the level of more considerable timber.Beeches came to a good growth,with here and there an oak;and the track now passed under a high arcade of branches,and now ran under the open sky in glades.As the girl proceeded these glades became more frequent,the trees began again to decline in size,and the wood to degenerate into furzy coverts.Last of all there was a fringe of elders;and beyond that the track came forth upon an open,rolling moorland,dotted with wind-bowed and scanty bushes,and all golden brown with the winter,like a grouse.Right over against the girl the last red embers of the sunset burned under horizontal clouds;the night fell clear and still and frosty,and the track in low and marshy passages began to crackle under foot with ice.
Some half a mile beyond the borders of the wood the lights of the 'Green Dragon'hove in sight,and running close beside them,very faint in the dying dusk,the pale ribbon of the Great North Road.It was the back of the post-house that was presented to Nance Holdaway;and as she continued to draw near and the night to fall more completely,she became aware of an unusual brightness and bustle.A post-chaise stood in the yard,its lamps already lighted:light shone hospitably in the windows and from the open door;moving lights and shadows testified to the activity of servants bearing lanterns.The clank of pails,the stamping of hoofs on the firm causeway,the jingle of harness,and,last of all,the energetic hissing of a groom,began to fall upon her ear.By the stir you would have thought the mail was at the door,but it was still too early in the night.The down mail was not due at the 'Green Dragon'for hard upon an hour;the up mail from Scotland not before two in the black morning.
Nance entered the yard somewhat dazzled.Sam,the tall ostler,was polishing a curb-chain wit sand;the lantern at his feet letting up spouts of candle-light through the holes with which its conical roof was peppered.
'Hey,miss,'said he jocularly,'you won't look at me any more,now you have gentry at the castle.'
Her cheeks burned with anger.
'That's my lord's chay,'the man continued,nodding at the chaise,'Lord Windermoor's.Came all in a fluster -dinner,bowl of punch,and put the horses to.For all the world like a runaway match,my dear -bar the bride.He brought Mr.
Archer in the chay with him.'
'Is that Holdaway?'cried the landlord from the lighted entry,where he stood shading his eyes.
'Only me,sir,'answered Nance.
'O,you,Miss Nance,'he said.'Well,come in quick,my pretty.My lord is waiting for your uncle.'
