  Little Gene, up at the castle, was missing. The night had come on, and the woods that inclosed the cliff on which the castle stood, and that swept down the valley and up the opposite heights, were hushed and still, or sighing dolefully in the summer wind. The servants were out with torches, calling, and running in every direction. Some one suggested letting out the dogs; but that, the lady would not allow. She would not have the child torn to pieces by the great wolf-hounds, she said. She sat in her room and wrung her hands in despair. For the twentieth time she questioned the weeping nurse, who grew more frightened and confused with each question. “Most noble lady, I saw him last in the courtyard. He called to me and said: ‘Nursie, I will run away out into the deep wood;’ and I answered that the Dark would catch him if he did, and then he could never get home again; and he said: ‘I am not afraid of the Dark. I will find him, and tell him so; and I like the Dark.’ And then—I brought him into the play-room, and I—” “Stop right there!” cried the mother. “You did not bring him in. You intended to do so; but in talking with the men-at-arms and other idlers, you forgot my son; and now, he is either in the grasp of that robber chief Montfort, or the wolves have found him.” Here the mother’s and the nurse’s outcries blended; and if the nurse’s shrieks were loudest, there may have been cause; for a noble dame’s white hand could strike heavily, in those days. The whole night through, the mother and the nurse mingled their tears for their darling, while the search went on. The men-at-arms and servants loved the boy, not only that he was the son of their lord but for his own quaint ways and bonny face. Early in the morning the seekers came straggling in, tired and hungry; no trace had been found of the child. All feared to tell their lady of their fruitless quest. She had not ceased, all night, to walk the floor, weeping, and asking herself how she would dare tell her husband that their boy was gone. The nurse crouched by the door, trembling, and in sore distress; while the seekers asked of each other who was to tell their mistress. While they lingered, a shout from the valley caused all to hasten to the castle wall. A horse and rider came rapidly toward them from under the trees; clasped in the rider’s arms was little Gene; his yellow curls glistened against the man’s black armor. Placing the child on the ground, the stranger bowed low to the lady, turned his horse, and disappeared into the forest. The mother scarcely saw him; her eyes were on her boy. She reached out her arms to him. “Gene, little Gene, my dearest, come.” The little fellow kissed his hand and waved it to her. Soon he was in her arms; and she held him close, while she questioned him. “Where have you been, Gene, and who was yon dark man who brought you home?” Soon he was in her arms. “That was the Dark, mamma. Nurse does always tell me that the Dark will catch me; and when I say that I do not fear, she threatens to send me to him. I asked her where he lived, and she said, ‘In the day-time, in the great vaults under the castle;’ and I asked her where he lived at night, and she said, ‘In the deep woods.’ So I said I would find him, and tell him I did not fear him.” “Did you think to frighten his father’s son with such baby lore?” asked the lady of the nurse, scornfully. “But continue, my son; tell me, how went you out from the castle?” “There is a little door through which—but dear mamma, I cannot tell you what is known only to the men-at-arms.” The lady glanced round darkly. “This castle needeth its master sorely,” she said. The men drew back abashed. The boy continued,— “When I came out into the woods, I left the path that leads away—away,”—he spread out his dimpled arms and looked far off,—“I know not whither it goes, but I left it, and sought the deep wood. The shadows are heavy there, and it is very still. While I stood under a tree, uncertain which way to go, suddenly down toward me, through the trees, came the Dark.” “Holy Mary! it was some robber,” exclaimed the mother. “No, mamma, I tell you, it was the Dark. He was very black; his armor was black, and so were his beard and his eyes. He looked at me as though he wanted to eat me. But I said, ‘Are you the Dark? I come to find you and to tell you that I do not fear you.’ And then I looked at him, and he laughed, and I said, ‘I think I am going to like you;’ and he said, ‘Who are you? Have you strayed from Fairyland?’ “So I told him who I was, and he frowned and said, ‘Careless woman, to guard such a treasure so slackly.’ Who did he mean, mamma?” “I think I am going to like you.” “I think I am going to like you.” The lady’s face flushed. “Continue, my son; did he harm you?” “Oh, mamma, no. He found me some berries and a drink from a spring; and then he showed me how, at his coming, the little birds went to sleep in the trees, and the deer beneath them. And he showed me the stars, coming out in the deep sky. And when I grew sleepy, he held me in his arms, and sang of the white moths, and the glowworms; and the bird that sings at night sang with him; and then I went to sleep. But when morning came he found a great black horse, which was his; and so he brought me home, and made me promise never to seek for him again. I did not want to promise, only his eyes looked so that I feared him; so I promised; and he gave me this keepsake, for my mamma.” “He gave me this keepsake for my mamma.” “He gave me this keepsake for my mamma.” Here little Gene drew forth from his sleeve a piece of parchment, which he handed to his mother. The lady was obliged to call to her aid the priest, who read slowly:— “Thou careless woman, guard this treasure more securely, lest he fall a second time into the hands of Montfort.” “Holy St. Denis! it was that fierce robber,” said the lady. |
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