The Forest Lovers

He got up at once to arm himself; he had made all his preparations

before sunrise. Then he left word for the Countess that he would

return in a day or two, and set out.

The journey could not be done under three days; that gave him two

nights in the forest, each of which brought the same dream. He arrived

at the convent late in the evening, and asked to see the Abbess at

once. The tranquil monotony of the place, its bells and recurrent

chimes, the subdued voices of the nuns chanting an office in choir,

brought him like a beaten ship into haven. He was reassured before he

saw the Abbess.

"Yes, indeed," said that lady in answer to his outburst of questions,

"the child is well. Not so bright as during the winter season, it may

be; but the spring is no easy time for young people. I may tell you,

Sir Prosper, that we have grown very fond of her. Indeed, I am often

saying that I wonder how to do without her. She is so diligent and of

so toward a disposition. You will find her well cared for, sleek, and

quite good-looking. We have great hopes for her future if she makes a

happy choice. But you will wish to see her and prove my words. I will

send for her this moment."

The Abbess had her hand-bell in her hand. If she had rung it she would

have given Prosper justification of his hurry. But the complacent

youth forestalled her.

"I beg you, mother, to do nothing of the kind," he said. "She is well,

you tell me, she is happy: that is all I cared to know. I have no wish

to unsettle her, but leave her cheerfully and confidently with you,

being well assured that you will not fail to send me word at High

March should need be."

"I understand you, sir, and agree with you. You may be quite easy

about her. We are regular livers, as you may guess, and small events

are great ones to us. So you return to High March? I will beg you to

carry with you my humble duty to her ladyship the Countess. She is

well?"

"She is very well," said Prosper, and took his leave.

A frantic Gracedieu messenger started half a night behind him, but was

stopped on Two Manors Waste by a party of outlaws, robbed of his

letters, and hanged. Prosper's dream visited him for two nights of his

journey back, and four nights at High March; but as no word or other

warning came from Gracedieu to give it point, he grew to have some

strange liking for it, since he knew that it meant nothing. It gave

him new thoughts of Isoult; it convinced him, for instance, that since

the girl was so good she must be affectionate when you came to know

her. His own share in the nightly performance he could now set in

humorous comparison with his waking state. He found it difficult to

believe in the self of his dream, and was almost curious to see Isoult

that he might pursue his juxtapositions. At this rate she filled his

waking thoughts as well as his nights. The Countess was not slow to

perceive that Prosper was changed, and she affected. His songs came

less willingly from him, his sallies were either languid or too polite

to be from the heart of the youth, who could make hers beat so fast.

Thinking that he wanted work, she devised an expedition for him which

might involve some danger and the lives of a dozen men. But she

counted that lightly. He went on the fourth day after his return from

Gracedieu, and the expedition proved effectual in more ways than one.