A COTSWOLD ROMANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3862, 20 March 1928, Page 85

A COTSWOLD ROMANCE.

By

G. Stock.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.; One still afternoon early in May, a girl sat on one of the twisted roots of an old beech tree, a cigarette between her fingers, and an unopened packet of sandwiches on her lap; she was looking straight in front of her, an expression of reverence on her face. Before her a meadow stretched, curving flatly between two wooded slopes, swelling in the distance to a steep hill, its summit crowned with an old cream-coloured stone house which had the long pointed gables characteristic of Gloucestershire. A group °f tall wych elms, light and graceful Wit-Il the pale green of their young leaves against the soft blue of the skv, rose behind the house, above them rooks were circhng incessantly, calling one to another with their harsh cries. .. Besides herself and the rooks, not a living creature stirred in the wide lonely valley. All about her were flowering mav trees, they bordered the stream tha't flowed murmuring through the meadows up on the hills, in the woods, as far as the eye could see; white as newfallen snow, unreal, ethereal, they rustled gently in the faint warm wind, shaking out from their petals sweet heavy scent Hie place seemed enchanted, drowsing in the bright sunlight, fated to dream icalm and beautiful) through the centuries. Ine girl started to her feet, startled ir-om her trance-like state, as she heard someone approaching, afraid that she was trespassing. I a,m sorry to have disturbed you, please sit down again,” said a middle-aged woman, severely dressed in a tweed coat and skirt. “ These lands are free to everyone. Isn’t this beautiful?” ‘‘ Tt , ls ’ indeed, a miracle of loveliness! tins place must have some story attached „ 1 • 1 .1 if about me! ”'she broke off, flushing, suddenly shy, aware of beirm both silly and gushing. The strange? smiled kindly. There are many stories about this place, some grim and murderous, for part of the house up there is very old (originally a convent, I believe) but the one I like best is the tale of two lovers; it must have happened in the year 1651—1 can never remember dates, can you? I know it was after the battle of Worcester and in September. Shall I tell it you, it is simple, and I won’t take much of your time? ”

do if you would be so kind,” f u gn ’ • makln S room beside her. Ine following is the story: - In the days of the Commonwealth the owner of the manor on the hill, secretly before tee Civil War a Puritan, was now openly so and a staunch Roundhead. His only child, a girl of 21, was sitting one day in a neglected part of the garden? beyond the thick avenue of yews (young in the days of the Conquest)’ a long way •i 1 0 -i® 10USe and quite concealed from it, thinking sadly of her lover, a cavalier, ine son of a neighbouring s-iuire. When he and his family had declared for the king aer father (her mother was dead, which perhaps accounted for what took place) forbade her to se e him amiin. He was now away fighting. Anne was presumably, sewing, but every now and again she put her hands down to her lap and they lay idle, while their mistress looked down the valley, dreaming, oblivious of her surroundings or of the beauty of the distant, woods checkered in red and gold and hard brisdit green • so soft and compact were their contours that they resembled woo] work in some rug, or worked pictures. Rabbits were feecnng m the green hollows under the yellowing thorn trees, Suddenly they t°° k and scampered awav into a sheltering thicket of brambles. She did not notice this, being absorbed in her own

A low, merry whistle startled her; she stared as a auamt figure rose into view above the low wall that cut off the field from the garden. A tall boy of about 22 dMv ° f n ?ge r St °° d there ’ and duty. His face was scratched, the blood running thinly from a slight gash on his forehead, his long hair was matted,’ nai;? 13 - CyeS W ? re ]a hi s ]i ps parting m a quick smile, showing white even teeth Atop of this countenance nbm l led a , ? atte . red bat with a graceful _ e now hanging limnly, and sweeping bnm now broken and bent, tilted at an absurdly rakish angle. . ’ it was a erv of iov mingled with alarm at his condition; The colour spreading in her pale cheeks, she sa motionless in her amazement. Scrambling over the wall, he ran to her, throwing his hat on the ground, and taking her in his arms, kissed her impetuously; but the sudden excitement overcame him, and he fell at her feet in a faint.

Anne stared down in horror at his white face, blue-tinged mouth, and purnle eyelids. Was he dead? This thought shocked her into action. She ran to a spring close at hand, and cupping some water in her hands, threw it into his face, and rubbed his hands, kissing them, holding them ayainst her neck to warm them. His eyelids fluttered,? a- tremor shook him, he sighed, then opened his

eyes; looking up into the sweet face bent near to his, he smiled, but too late to hide the suffering she had already read in them.

‘'l am„soiry to have irightened you, my dear,” he sat up and attempted to rise, but fell back against the wall, faith, I do feel giddy—listen Anne, don’t worry about me!” he added querulously, as she hovered about him, nervous in her fear. The next moment he_ smiled and kissed her tenderly. Quickly he told her of the defeat at Worcester, the king a fugitive, even as he was; how he had been hiding in the woods not daring to go home, as Cromwell’s troopers had been reported in the neighbourhood; how he hoped, with a fiiend’s help, to reach Bristol and there get a ship for France. When did you last eat, dear heart?” she asked.

I can’t remember, it was so long ago!” She gave a cry of dismay. She thought despeiately in her distress. Look, Dick ” —she pointed to a rough stone shed for cattle that stood in the corner of the field, but was now disused, but a little hay still remained in it—there, while I get you some food.” He wished, perversely, to stay where he was, but fearing someone might come she urged him to go. Before he went he gave her his signet ring, an amethyst in a curiously wrought gold setting. “ Keep this as a remembrance,” he said, “w e may not meet again! ” She shuddered.

this was the first of several meetings; the boy lay hid in the woods by day, sleeping in the shed at night, unable to tear himself away from the neighbourhood of his love.

Down the lonely walk she would come, the thick sombre yew trees meeting overhead, walking with meek grace, in sober grey and white, a close hood round her charming face, hiding the yellow curls which Richard always pulled out, she protesting laughingly. To-day he brought her a bunch of e i agile harebells and some blackberries’ in a dock leaf. She had bread and cheese and a little milk for him.

“Sweetheart, do you love me?” he asked, as he contentedly munched the food.

“Y’es, Dick—but why do you ask?” “ You seem very anxious to leave me to-day.” She was starting at every sound a rustle in the hedge, the bark of a distant dog—her eyes wide with appi ehension, the colour coming and going in her face.

Yesterday father became suspicious and threatened to beat me, because I wouldn’t tell him where I had been, after I had taken you the sweet cake vou are so fond of! I was away longer than usual, and he missed me. I am so afraid for you. I can’t bear it any longer.” The soft red lips trembled, the tears in her eyes brimmed over, sliding slowly down her cheeks. He stopped them with a kiss, one by one, and comforted her. Richaid wished, impulsivelv, at once to confront her father and take the blame upon himself. Anne, less thoughtless, pointed out to him, between tears and laughter, that this would cause more suffering to her, as then indeed his liberty would be forfeited (she knew her father, and was under no illusion as to his mercifulness). He agreed with her that they would soon be discovered; some plan must be devised.

“ I am afraid of someone else, too—my cousin, who is acting as father’s secretary.” She stopped, blushing as Richard looked at her intentlv. They decided to run away, and to be mai ried seeretlj’ in his friend’s house, where there w’as a private chapel. The friend could probably procure a licence for them; Richard had lately been hiding the:e, and as he had promised further help, he would consult him and ask his aid. Sunday was the day arranged; they hoped to escape when'all the household were at church, a mile away. She was to pretend illness, and then to slip away when the others had gone. All went well, the friend proved kind, promising to give them shelter. They had now the weary waiting to bear the torture of suspense, the ever present fear of his capture, then transportation or death.

The day arrived. The rain came scudding down, the wind came in short gusts, rocking the tall wych elms and sending their yellow leaves to earth in golden showers, as Anne walked to meet Richard. She clutched her cloak closer to her, looking back fearfully over her shoulder, as if she feared some grim spectre to bo dogging her footsteps. She saw Richard waiting and ran to him,- as if for protection. He held her in his arms, but she twisted away from him, looking back at her home wistfully, a rather pitiful expression on her face..

“Do you not trust me?” he said, impatient with anxiety. “I love you, and therefore I trust .you,” she replied.. “ My dear love,” he •whispered, gazing in an abstraction into her sweet face, suddenly realising the humble and courageous spirit of her who was willing to share his fortunes. Thus they lingered, forgetting time and danger. Suddenly her cousin stepped out from the shadows of a little coppice behind them, and faced them. In appearance tall,’ ■with a commanding face, handsome bpce, now marred by smallpox, framed by black hair cut squarely in the manner favoured by the Puritans, and dressed in -black, he appeared to the lovers an evil vision indeed. Standing in front of them, hiA face dark red with anger, his hands twitching nervously, he cleared his throat preparatory to speech, but Richard sprang at him without preamble. 1 The

two rocked together backwards and forwards, Anne dodging to keep clear of their trampling feet. The smell of wet bruised grass rose to her nostrils, the sound of dull, heavy blows on soft flesh to her ears. In terror she . watched Richard. Was there nothing she could do? The sweat ran down his face, his breath came in distressing gasps. Weak from long exposure, with a full-fed man opposing him, there was not much doubt as to the result.

In cowering back, Anne flicked her hand into a bed of talk well-grown nettles; she turned swiftly, tearing them up, regardless of their cruel stings, and waited her opportunity. It came. Her cousin’s face came uppermost, a smile of triumph dawning upon it as he bore down his enemy. Quickly she slashed the nettles across his eyes. Momentarily blinded, and confused with the sudden sharp pain, he staggered back, loosening his hold. The boy, making a desperate effort, knocked him down, stunning him. The elder woman paused in her narrative.

“ Did they escape ? ” asked the girl eagerly. “AVby, yes, my dear. There was no one about; the secretary had slipped away from the others unawares. He was in love with Anne himself, and, being of a jealous temperament, suspicious of her. They ran down the fields to the woods on your left, where the friend and horses waited. They reached I rance, and returned to the old house at the. Restoration—else I wouldn’t be here now, they being my ancestors!” she ended quaintly. She stretched out her liand, hiddan till now* in her coat pocket. On the fourth finger gleamed an amethyst, a crest carved on its polished surface, set in an antique gold ring.