The Night Land | Page 7

go odd-wise beyond
the groupt men about her; so that I understood in a moment that her lover was not there,
and she to be a-lack in the heart for him. Yet, why he was not there, I could not suppose,
save that he might have been called back to the Court.
And, surely, as I watched the other young men about her, I burned with a fierce and
miserable jealousy of them; so that I could near have stept forth and plucked her out from
among them, and had her to walk with me in the woods, as in the olden days, when she
also had seemed near to love. But, truly, what use to this? For it was not they who held
her heart, as I saw plain; for I watched her, with an eager and lonesome heart, and knew
that it was one small man of the Court that was lover to her, as I have told.
And I went away again then, and came not near to the gap for three great months,
because that I could not bear the pain of my loss; but in the end of that time, my very pain
to urge me to go, and to be worse than the pain of not going; so that I found myself one
evening in the gap, peering, very eager and shaken, across the sward that lay between the
gap and the woods; for this same place to be as an holy ground to me; for there was it that
first I saw Mirdath the Beautiful, and surely lost my heart to her in that one night.
And a great time I stayed there in the gap, waiting and watching hopelessly. And lo!
sudden there came something against me, touching my thigh very soft; and when I looked
down, it was one of the boar-hounds, so that my heart leaped, near frightened; for truly
My Lady was come somewhere nigh, as I did think.
And, as I waited, very hushed and watchful; yet with an utter beating heart; surely I heard
a faint and low singing among the trees, so utter sad. And lo! it was Mirdath singing a
broken love song, and a-wander there in the dark alone, save for her great dogs.
And I harked, with strange pain in me, that she did be so in pain; and I ached to bring her
ease; yet moved not, but was very still there in the gap; save that my being was all in
turmoil.
And presently, as I harked, there came a slim white figure out from among the trees; and

the figure cried out something, and came to a quick pause, as I could see in the half-dark.
And lo! in that moment, there came a sudden and unreasoned hope into me; and I came
up out of the gap, and was come to Mirdath in a moment, calling very low and passionate
and eager: "Mirdath! Mirdath! Mirdath!"
And this way I came to her; and her great dog that was with me, to bound beside me, in
thought, mayhap, that it was some game. And when I came to the Lady Mirdath, I held
out my hands to her, not knowing what I did; but only the telling of my heart that needed
her so utter, and craved to ease her of her pain. And lo! she put out her arms to me, and
came into mine arms with a little run. And there she bode, weeping strangely; but yet
with rest upon her; even as rest was come sudden and wondrous upon me.
And sudden, she moved in mine arms, and slipt her hands to me, very dear, and held her
lips up to me, like some sweet child, that I kiss her; but, indeed, she was also a true
woman, and in honest and dear love of me.
And this to be the way of our betrothal; and simple and wordless it was; yet sufficient,
only that there is no sufficiency in Love.
Now, presently, she loosed herself out of mine arms, and we walked homeward through
the woods, very quiet, and holding hands, as children do. And I then in a while to ask her
about the man of the Court; and she laughed very sweet into the silence of the wood; but
gave me no answer, save that I wait until we were come to the Hall.
And when we were come there, she took me into the great hall, and made a very dainty
and impudent bow, mocking me. And so made me known to another lady, who sat there,
upon her task of embroidering, which she did very demure, and as that she had also a
dainty Mischief lurking in her.
And truly, the Lady Mirdath