The Forest Lovers

"Man," he said, "our account is not yet done. But I know what I know.

If you have accounts to settle, settle them now. I will bear you

company and wait for you where you will."

The words steadied Galors, sobered and quieted him. He began to mutter

to himself. "God hath spoken to me. Out of my own deeds cometh His

judgment, and out of my own sowing the harvest I shall reap. Entra

per me, saith God." He turned to Prosper. "Sir, I accept of your

allowance. I will not take you far. One more thing I will ask at your

hands, that you give me back my own sword--Salomon's sword. After a

little you shall have it again."

"I will do it," said Prosper, knowing his thought.

They changed swords. Prosper set Isoult on his horse and himself

walked at her stirrup. The three of them moved forward without another

word given or exchanged. Galors led the way.

Instead of following the line of the chase, which had been north, they

now struck east through the heavy woodland. So they went for some

three hours. It must have been near midnight, with a moon clear of all

trees, when they halted at a cross-ride which ran north and south.

Before them, over the ride, rose a thick wall of pine-stems, so

serried that there was no room for a horse to pass in between them.

Isoult started, looked keenly up and down the ride, then collected

herself and sat quite still. Prosper took no notice of anything.

"Prosper," said Galors quietly, "you will wait here for me. You know

that I shall return. It will be within half-an-hour from now."

"Good. I shall be here."

Galors dismounted and plunged into the wall of pines; they seemed to

move and fold him in their mazes, and nothing spoke of him thereafter

but the sound of his heavy tread on dry twigs. When this was lost an

immense stillness sat brooding.

Neither Prosper nor Isoult could speak. Her presence was to him a warm

consolation, to be apprehended by flashes in the course of a long

battle with black and heavy thoughts; her also the pause (more fateful

than the battle it had interrupted) affected strangely, the more

strangely because she did not know the whole truth. I may say here

that Prosper never told her of it; nor did she ask it of him. It was

the one event of their lives, joint and disjoint, upon which they were

always as dumb as now when they thought apart. Thoughtful apart though

they were, they felt together. Prosper's hand stole upwards from his

side; Isoult's drew to it as metal to magnet; the rest of that heavy

hour they passed hand-in-hand. So children comfort each other in the

dark.