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Page 14
After proceeding about three miles, she struck into a deep, dark ravine,
through which there rushed a slender stream, whose waters, seldom
gladdened by a sunbeam, seemed to groan and murmur like an angry
captive. The way, thickly strewn with moss-bound stones and the
mouldering skeletons of trees, required all the maiden's horsemanship.
But she struggled on, until she reached something midway between a
grotto and a hut, projecting from the side of the gully, and looking as
though by some fantastic freak of nature it had grown there, so
admirably was it in keeping with the character of the place.
From the time she had mounted her horse, the maiden's face expressed
great anxiety, which increased as she alighted and entered the singular
excrescence we have mentioned. A blazing pine-knot driven in the ground,
shed a fierce, and flickering light over the interior of this gloomy
abode, for it was an abode--and more, a home--the home of Bertha! The
maniac was sitting upon a rude bench, close to the firebrand which gave
a fearful lustre to her haggard features, while with a species of
exultation she gazed upon the knife stained with Gilbert's blood, still
clenched in her hand.
The husband of this unfortunate woman had, about a year before, been
mortally wounded in a chance affray between the partisans of the lords
of Hers and Stramen. He was brought home only to die in the arms of his
wife. The shock had reduced her to this miserable extremity. She could
not be prevailed upon to remain in the cottage she had occupied in the
hour of her joy; and though repeatedly offered a home by Father Omehr
and the Baron of Stramen, she had built for herself this wild nest, and
obstinately refused to leave it except to wander to the church or to the
grave-yard. She was maintained by the Lady Margaret principally, and by
the charities of the peasantry. Up to the present time, she had been
perfectly harmless, and was rather loved than feared by the children of
the country. She had always manifested an extreme affection for the Lady
Margaret, to whom she would sing her sweetest songs, and whose hand she
would almost devour with kisses.
Margaret, though somewhat appalled at Bertha's frightful appearance, yet
confiding in the power she had over her, advanced and silently sat down
upon the bench. For some minutes Bertha seemed unconscious of the
presence of her visitor, but suddenly removing her eyes from the knife,
she bent them upon Margaret. In an instant a smile of strange sweetness
stole over the poor creature's wasted face: every trace of anger
disappeared as she fell upon her knees and raised the hem of the
maiden's garment to her lips. Without rising she sang one of those
simple ballads which even insanity could not make her forget. The lady
of Stramen patiently permitted her to proceed without interruption. But
the moment her strange companion was silent, she minted to the knife,
exclaiming:
"Is this blood, Bertha?"
Still kneeling, the woman began:
The chieftain swore on bended knee,
That blood for blood should flow--
Then leaped upon his coal-black steed,
And spurred against the foe.
"Has anyone hurt you?" continued Margaret.
But Bertha only replied:
Sir Arthur swung his falchion keen--
The serf implored in vain;--
The knight is galloping away--
The serf lies on the plain!
"Bertha! Bertha! this is wrong: I hope you have committed no violence?"
But the answer, as before, was given in rude, indefinite verse.
It may be unnecessary to say that the object of the lady's visit was to
discover if the knife had been poisoned. Finding that all question
would be useless, she had recourse to an artifice to effect her purpose,
suggested by the discovery of a splinter buried in Bertha's thumb.
"Let me remove this--it must give you pain," she said, examining the
hand she had taken in hers, and reaching after the knife. Bertha
passively resigned the weapon, but rapidly withdrew her hand, just as
her mistress feigned to prepare for the incision. Margaret shuddered,
for she naturally saw in that quick gesture a confirmation of her worst
fears. For some moments they gazed at each other in mute anxiety. Bertha
was the first to break the silence, and her words revived a gleam of
hope in the bosom of her companion.
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