MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE


I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse rather than by
any intention of my own took the road up through Lathkil Dale. I had
determined if possible to reach the city of Chester, and thence to ride
down into Wales, hoping to find on the rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or
a smuggler's craft that would carry me to France. In truth, I cared little
whether I went to the Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that
I had looked my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from Haddon gave
me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with myself upon two
propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious of my real feeling
toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that her kindness and her
peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from her were but the promptings
of a tender heart stirred by pity for my unfortunate situation, rather
than what I thought when I said farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the
beautiful Lathkil whispered to me as I rode beside their banks, but in
their murmurings I heard only the music of her voice. The sun shone
brightly, but its blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful
girl whom I had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I
could not share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!

All my life I had been a philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath
all my gloominess there ran a current of amusement which brought to my
lips an ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five years
before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me all the fair
possibilities for noble achievement which were offered to me in that land,
that I might follow the fortunes of a woman whom I thought I loved. Before