This was my first entrance into the heart of fairyland.
William Rufus couldn't have chosen a more ideal spot to die in, if he'd picked it out himself from a list of a hundred others; and the evening silence under the great, gray beeches seemed as if it had lasted a thousand years, always the same, old and wise as Mother Earth. Then, suddenly, it was broken by the rustle and stir of a cock pheasant, which appeared from somewhere as if by magic, and stood for an instant all kingly, his breast blazing with jewelled orders in the sunset. Me he regarded with the haughty defiance of a Norman prince, and screamed with rage at the puppy, all his theories upset, because he had been so positive the world was entirely his. So it was, if he'd only stopped to let me assure him that he owned all the best things in it; but he whirred and soared; and thus I realized instantly that he was a fairy in disguise. How stupid of me not to have guessed while he was there!
[Illustration: "_William Rufus couldn't have chosen a more ideal spot to die in_"]
You know, the New Forest is haunted with fairies, good and bad. There are the "malfays" that came because of William the Conqueror's cruelty in driving away the peasants to make the great deer-forest for his hunting; and there are the good fays that help the cottage housewives, and the "tricksies" that frighten the wild ponies and pinch the cattle. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that that pheasant was Puck himself, for no doubt Puck has a hunting-lodge somewhere in the New Forest.
I meant to sit by the Stone only five minutes, but the fairies put a spell upon my five minutes, and the first thing I knew, the sun was gone. So was the puppy, which was even more serious, for I was handicapped by not knowing his name, and no self-respecting canine thing would respond to shouts of "dog," or "here, pup, pup, pup!"
However, I tried both, running about to look for him, here and there, among the enchanted bracken that rustled with elf-life, while the shadows came alive, and the rosy light died.
"Puppy, puppy!" I implored, helplessly drifting; and then, to my surprise--can you "find" that you've lost a thing? Well, I don't know how else to express it. I found that I'd lost the path. If I'd only been able to remember whether the hotel were north or south, or east or west of Rufus's Stone, maybe it would have been all right; but does any normal girl ever give thought to points of the compass? I yelled a little more, hoping the puppy would be gentleman enough to come back to a lady in distress, and luckily Sir Lionel heard my howls. He'd come out to look for me, on learning from the landlord that I'd gone to Rufus's Stone, with the puppy, and he had met it--not the stone, but the puppy--looking sneaky and ashamed. Just then, my voice gave him an idea of my whereabouts, otherwise we should probably have missed; and if we had, I don't know what I _should_ have done, so you mustn't scold at what happened next. Remember the New Forest is not a French pension full of old maids, but fairyland--fairyland.
He was in evening dress, without a hat, and I _was_ pleased to see him, because I was beginning to be the tiniest bit afraid; and he did look so nice; and I was _so_ glad he wasn't Dick Burden. But don't worry! I didn't tell him that.
It seems he came downstairs rather early for dinner, and the landlord mentioned that I'd gone out, so he strolled along, thinking to meet me after walking a few yards. When he didn't, he thought he'd better keep on, because it was too late for me to be out of doors alone.
I was apologetic, and afraid it must be long past dinner-time; but he said I needn't mind that, as he had left word for the others not to wait after eight-fifteen.
Then in a few minutes I began to realize that we might have an adventure, because when I called, and Sir Lionel hurried on in quest of me, he'd forgotten to notice the landmarks. It did seem ridiculous to have trouble in finding the way, so short a distance from the hotel; but you can't conceive how misleading it is in the New Forest. It's like a part of the enchantment; and if we had been in the maze of the Minotaur, without Ariadne's clue, we couldn't have been more bewildered than we soon found ourselves, tangled in the veil of twilight.
"I wonder if birds will cover us with leaves?" I said, laughing, when we had made up our minds that we were lost. But it seemed more likely that, if any creature paid us this thoughtful attention, it would be bats. As night fell in the Forest, they unhooked themselves from their mysterious trapezes, and whirred past our faces with a soft flap, flap of velvet wings. I don't know what I should have done if one had made a halfway-house of my hair!
"Are you hungry?" Sir Lionel wanted to know.
I said that I was, but wouldn't harrow him up by explaining that I was ravenous.
He didn't appear even to _want_ to scold, though it would have been easy to hint politely that it would be my own fault if we didn't get any dinner that night--or, perhaps, breakfast next morning. Instead of being cross with me, he blamed himself for being stupid enough to lose me. I exonerated him, and we were extremely nice to each other; but as we walked on and on, round and round, seeing no lights anywhere, or hearing anything except that wonderful sound of a great silence, I began to grow tired. I didn't mean, though, that he should see it. _I_ had enough to be ashamed of, without that, but he knew by instinct, and took my hand to draw it through his arm, telling me to lean as heavily as I liked. I held back at first, saying it wasn't necessary; and insisting, as I pulled away, his hand closed down on mine tightly. It was only for a second or two, because I gave up at once, and let him lay my hand on his arm as he wished. But, do you know, mother, I think I ought to tell you it felt quite differently from any other hand that ever touched mine.
Of course I haven't even shaken hands with many men since I've been grown up, though if you'd let me be a singer I shouldn't have thought any more about it than if I were President of the United States. One reads in novels of "the electricity in a touch," and all that; but there it generally means that you're falling in love. And I can't possibly be falling in love with Ellaline's Dragon, can I? I don't suppose that can be. It would be too stupid, and forward, and altogether unspeakable. But really, I do feel differently about him from any way I ever felt before toward anybody. I have always said that I'd rather be alone with myself than with anyone else except you, for any length of time, because I'm such good chums with myself, and enjoy thinking my own thoughts. But I _do_ like being with Sir Lionel. I feel excited and eager at the thought of being with him. And his fingers on mine--and my hand on his arm--and the touch of his sleeve--and a faint little, almost imperceptible scent of Egyptian cigarettes mixing with the woodsy smell of the night--oh, I don't know how to describe it to myself. So now you know as much as I do. But wouldn't it be dreadful if I should go and fall in love with Sir Lionel Pendragon of all other men in the world? In a few more weeks I shall be slipping out of his life forever; and not only that, but I shall be leaving a very evil memory behind. He will despise me. I shall have proved myself exactly the sort of person he abominates.
I didn't think all that, however, as he put my hand on his arm. I just felt the thrill of it; but instead of worrying, I was happy, and didn't care how tired and hungry I was, or whether we ever got anywhere or not. As for him, he was too polite to let me know he was bored, and all the time we were looking for the hotel the night was so beautiful, so wonderful, that we couldn't help talking of exquisite things, telling each other thoughts neither of us would have spoken aloud in daylight. It was quite dark now, except for a kind of rosy quivering of light along the horizon, and the stars that had come out like a bright army of fairies, with millions of scintillating spears.
I knew then, dearest, that he was no dragon, no matter what circumstantial evidence may have been handed down to Ellaline as a legacy from her dead mother. That is something to have divined by the magic of the forest, isn't it, after I've been puzzling so long? There is now not the least doubt in my mind. So if I should be silly and sentimental enough to fancy myself in love, it can't do any harm, except to make me a little sorry and sad after I've come home to you. It won't be anything to be _ashamed_ of, to have cared about a man like Sir Lionel; because I assure you I shan't behave foolishly, no matter how I may eventually feel. You can trust your Audrie for that.
It was too dark to tell the time by a watch, but we remarked to each other that they must have finished dinner long ago; and Sir Lionel hoped this wouldn't spoil the memory of my birthday for me.
"Oh, no," said I, before I thought, "it will make it better. I shall never, never forget this."