f
the Alder-tree had befooled me--nearly slain me--in spite of all the
warnings I had received from those who knew my danger.

CHAPTER VII

"Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes,
A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
He but lye downe and bleede awhile,
And then Ile rise and fight againe."
Ballad of Sir Andrew Barton.

But I could not remain where I was any longer, though the daylight was
hateful to me, and the thought of the great, innocent, bold sunrise
unendurable. Here there was no well to cool my face, smarting with the
bitterness of my own tears. Nor would I have washed in the well of
that grotto, had it flowed clear as the rivers of Paradise. I rose, and
feebly left the sepulchral cave. I took my way I knew not whither, but
still towards the sunrise. The birds were singing; but not for me. All
the creatures spoke a language of their own, with which I had nothing to
do, and to which I cared not to find the key any more.

I walked listlessly along. What distressed me most--more even than my
own folly--was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness
dwell so near? Even with her altered complexion and her face of dislike;
disenchanted of the belief that clung around her; known for a
living, walking sepulchre, faithless, deluding, traitorous; I felt
notwithstanding all this, that she was beautiful. Upon this I pondered
with undiminished perplexity, though not without some gain. Then I began
to make surmises as to the mode of my deliverance; and concluded that
some hero, wandering in search of adventure, had heard how the forest
was infested; and, knowing it was useless to attack the evil thing in
person, had assailed with his battle-axe the body in which he dwelt, and
on which he was dependent for his power of mischief in the wood. "Very
likely," I thought, "the repentant-knight, who warned me of the evil
which has befallen me, was busy retrieving his lost honour, while I was
sinking into the same sorrow with himself; and, hearing of the dangerous
and mysterious being, arrived at his tree in time to save me from being
dragged to its roots, and buried like carrion, to nourish him for
yet deeper insatiableness." I found afterwards that my conjecture was
correct. I wondered how he had fared when his blows recalled the Ash
himself, and that too I learned afterwards.

I walked on the whole day, with intervals of rest, but without food; for