CHAPTER V. THE RETURN. ALICE was now alone with the two friends, of whom only the young poet was slightly acquainted with her. Milton now introduced chivalrous Edward King to her. The timid girl soon overcame her embarrassment, and gave her deliverers a full account of the strange adventure which had befallen her. "And what do you intend to do now?" asked Milton, sympathetically. "I really do not know," replied Alice. "We are at your command," said King, with officious zeal. "We shall not leave you until you are perfectly safe." "Certainly not," affirmed his friend. "So long as you have need of us, we will, if you permit it, remain with you. The question is now whether you prefer taking the direct route to Ludlow Castle, or intend remaining here until your brothers have returned." "I deem it more prudent for you," remarked King, "to leave the forest and return to the highway." "But my brothers," objected Alice, "will seek me, and if they find me no longer in the forest, they will be needlessly anxious on my account. Moreover, I should not like to trouble you, gentlemen, any more than I have already done. I am sure that your route lies in a different direction from mine." "We know of no other duty just now," replied King, politely, "but to serve an unprotected lady; and it is of no consequence whatever whether we get home an hour earlier or later. But you, noble lady, must no longer expose yourself to the inconveniences and dangers of this wilderness. The fatigues of the day must have exhausted your strength, and you need physical and mental repose. Moreover, your absence will doubtless occasion the liveliest anxiety to your parents. As to your brothers, I believe we shall meet with them a great deal sooner on the highway than here in the forest. They have deserved some punishment for being such bad custodians of such a treasure." As Milton assented to the opinion of his friend, Alice resolved to adopt the well-meant advice. With King's assistance, she mounted the palfrey, which had been taken from the dancers, while the young man, leading her brother's horse by the bridle, and John Milton, walked on either side. Both were sufficiently familiar with the road, and the gentle rays of the moon illuminated the tolerably smooth path. It was a splendid, fragrant May night; a gentle breeze murmured in the young foliage; the blooming birches exhaled delicious perfumes, and the nightingales sang the joys and woes of love in long, melting notes. The young wanderers yielded silently to the exquisite charms of Nature; the mysterious fascinations of Spring, the time of buds and flowers, floated round them and filled their hearts with longing and delight. Alice at length broke the silence, which almost filled her with anxiety. She turned in the first place to Milton, with whom she had already been acquainted. She spoke with him of her aunt's house, and of the last festival which she had witnessed there. "I envy my Aunt Derby," she said, in the course of the conversation, which became more and more animated, "for being able to gather around her a circle of ladies and gentlemen such as perhaps is not to be found anywhere else. What delightful amusements she manages to prepare for her guests. I shall never forget the days which I passed at her house, and which glided away unfortunately only too rapidly." "Let me assure you," said Milton, significantly, "that I likewise remember them with grateful emotion. A new life dawned upon me in that house." He paused suddenly, to the great regret of Alice, who longed to hear more from him, especially as to what and whom he referred to in speaking of a "new life." She was almost afraid lest he would relapse into his bashful reserve, which he seemed to overcome here in the green forest with greater ease than in the proud halls of her aunt's castle. Fortunately his friend now took up the thread of the conversation. "If I am not mistaken," he said, "a mask, written by you, was presented at the countryseat of the noble Countess-dowager of Derby. As usual, you have not yet told me any thing about its success; hence, I must apply for particulars about the performance to you, beautiful lady." "I suppose you refer to 'The Arcades ?'" asked Alice, kindly. "That is the name of the mask, of which I have hitherto heard only detached frag ments." "Is it not beautiful?" said Alice, interrupting her recitation, and turning inquiringly to Edward King, who had listened to her attentively. "Do not these lines themselves sound like music." "They certainly do in your mouth.” In the mean time Milton was so much fas cinated that he could not utter a word. Could there be any thing more blissful for the poet than to hear his own words and thoughts from the lips of his beloved? It was the first time that praise had intoxicated him. It is true he was as yet far from giving another interpretation to her homage, and reading in it the hidden confession which it conveyed; but her words filled the poet's heart with an indescribable ecstasy, betokening more than the mere feeling of gratified vanity. His heart was too full for utterance; dreaming blissfully, he walked by the side of the fair horsewoman, looking up to her stealthily from time to time, as if to the heavenly muse herself, which she "A trifle hardly worth mentioning," inter- had become for him at this hour. posed the modest poet. "You do injustice to yourself and your work," said Alice, almost indignantly. "But as you, like an unjust and cruel father, expose and disown your own child, I shall have mercy on it, and cherish and foster it in accordance with its merits." His friend was not less sensible of the charms of the beautiful girl. By his position, King had obtained a more extensive acquaintance with distinguished ladies than his bashful friend Milton; nevertheless, he was obliged to confess to himself that he had never met with so perfect a beauty either at court or in so "Your irony is cruel. I wish you would ciety. Alice combined with her youthful forget the ungainly child." "I cannot, sir; and, to prove how deeply its beautiful features are engraved upon my mind, I will quote some lines which struck me as particularly beautiful." "Pray, don't," murmured Milton, blushing. But the amiable girl did not heed his objections, and commenced as follows: "Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, charms an intellectual grace which Nature grants only to her special favorites. Her whole bearing breathed an indescribable loveliness, and imparted a peculiar charm to her most insignificant words and actions. Even the most trivial sayings sounded attractive from her lips, and the listener believed he had never heard any thing like it. This surpassing grace was only the reflection of a highly-gifted mind, in which the most delicate feelings were coupled with a firm will, and great lucidness of understanding with the liveliest imagination. And all these surpassing gifts had been har moniously cultivated and perfectly balanced | the wanderers to make haste. Soon after, they succeeded in reaching the highway. by a most careful education. Her young companion had time enough and an excellent opportunity to become acquainted with her accomplishments during this prolonged conversation. The strange meeting in the forest, the magnificent spring night, were well calculated to add to the susceptibility of his heart and imagination. He felt that he could never forget the noble, beautiful face to which the moon's silver light lent an additional charm. The sweet tone of her voice vied with the nightingale, and her slender form on the palfrey constantly reminded him of the wonders of fiction and of the world of fairies. When she bent over the neck of her palfrey and caressed the faithful animal with her soft hand, King wished he were in its place; when her ringlets touched his flushed cheek, a sweet shudder passed through his frame. The whole journey seemed to him a heavenly dream from which he was afraid he should be aroused too soon. After her first embarrassment had worn off, Alice turned with confiding familiarity, in the innocence of her pure heart, now to one of her companions, now to the other. This beautiful flower disclosed her accomplishments to them more and more unreservedly. Those were moments such as never return in a lifetimeblissful moments capable of making amends for long years of suffering; for is there any thing more delightful on earth than such chaste and intimate intercourse between noble youths and a charming girl? As yet no other feeling than the purest benevolence mixed with their conversation. The inclination slumbering unconsciously in the young hearts had not yet assumed a definite shape, and did not mar the confiding familiarity of their inter course Distant heat-lightning flashed up from time to time near the dark horizon, and the low thunder of a rising spring-storm admonished "Oh, I know the road now," said Alice; "we must be at Ludlow Castle in half an hour." "Then we shall reach it just in time to escape the thunder-storm,” replied King. "How splendidly the flashes of lightning cross each other! I am not afraid of the thunder-storm, but you, gentlemen, cannot possibly get home to-night. My father will be glad to tender the hospitality of his house to you. My deliverers will certainly be welcome to him." The friends tried vainly to decline her polite invitation. Alice insisted upon it, and they had to promise her to stay at Ludlow Castle at least till the following morning. The nearer Alice approached her home, the merrier became the turn which she managed to give to the conversation. With the perfect security, which she began to feel again, returned also her good humor and exuberant spirit. "I am delighted," she said, smilingly, “ with the adventure which has ended so agreeably. Like an errant lady, I come back now, accompanied by a valiant knight and an excellent minstrel. Suppose, sir minstrel, you write an epic poem on our meeting? "I will bet," said King, "that he has already finished it in his head. I know his ways. When he does not speak, he makes poetry.” "It is true," said Milton, entering into the jest, "the whole occurrence resembles a poem; but I scarcely feel able to treat the beautiful subject in a becoming manner.” "Oh, pray try it," said the charming girl, beseechingly. "But in doing so, you must not omit your own part in the adventure. We must all appear in your poem, my brother, my deliverers, and Comus, the god, who frightened me so badly.” As Milton made no reply, she added anxiously: and her siren daughters; but by devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out His seraphim with the hallowed fire of His altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom He pleases. Now you know my heart and its as "What, you are silent? I hope my childish wish does not offend you. It is true, I can imagine that a poet who writes such elegant Latin verses as you do-verses which I unfortunately do pot understand, but which I have been told are very beautiful-must deem it beneath his dignity to celebrate so insignifi-pirations." cant an event in plain English." "You are mistaken, noble lady,” replied the poet in a grave tone. "From my first years it was found that whether aught was imposed upon me by them that had the overlooking, or betaken to of my own choice, in English or other tongue, prosing or versing, but chiefly the latter, the style, by certain vital signs it had, was likely to live. Perceiving at a later time that some trifles which I had composed met with acceptance above what was looked for, I began thus far to assent to divers of my friends, and not less to an inward prompting, which now grew daily upon me, that by labor and intent study, which I take to be my portion in this life, joined to the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave some so written to aftertimes as they should not willingly let it die. These thoughts at once possessed me, and these other, that if I were certain to write as men buy leases, for three lives and downward, there ought no regard be sooner had than to God's glory, by the honor and instruction of my country. For which cause I applied myself to the resolution to fix all the industry and art I could unite to the adorning of my native tongue; not to make verbal curiosities the end, that were a toilsome vanity; but to be an interpreter and relater of the best and safest things among my own citizens throughout this island in the mother dialect. The kind of poetry to which I aspire is a work not to be raised from the heat of youth or the vapors of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amorist, or the trencher-fury of a rhyming parasite; nor to be obtained by the invocation of Dame Memory "And you will succeed," said Alice, profoundly moved, and carried away by the poet's enthusiasm. "I see already the laurels which will one day wreathe your brow. The name of Milton will be placed by the side of those of Shakespeare and Spenser." "Hold!" replied Milton. "I am not worthy as yet to unloose the shoestrings of these great men, and least of all those of Shakespeare, the immortal genius of England. What have I accomplished hitherto that would permit me to lift my eyes to him?" "You are young, and the blossom ripens into the fruit only in the course of years." "Was Shakespeare older than I when he wrote 'Romeo and Juliet,' the song of songs of love?" "Every plant has its own time of development and maturity. Yours will come too." were a true prophetess! devote day and night to "Oh, I would you How gladly would I this sublime object! Before you, noble lady, and my friend here, I may speak frankly, for I know that you will not misunderstand me. You may hear it, but let me whisper my confession into your ear, lest I should blush. Yes, long for immortality. I am exercising and strengthening my wings and preparing for a bold flight; but as yet the wings of my Pegasus are too feeble to soar as high as I would like. Hence, I believe I must be content with less lofty aspirations." The noise of horses and loud shouts interrupted the effusions of the poet, who had suddenly become so eloquent. At the head of a number of servants, whom the anxious parents had sent out, appeared now young Lord ing her, he uttered a loud, joyful cry. Alice introduced the friends as her deliverers to her brother, who thanked them cordially, and invited them likewise, on account of the rising thunder-storm, to stay overnight at Ludlow Castle. Only Thomas was missing yet, but his brother and sister were not over-anxious on his account, for the courageous youth often returned late at night from his excursions and hunts. However, another party of servants had been dispatched into Haywood Forest in search of him. Brackley in search of his sister. On perceiv- | court and in London society, and had now and then exchanged friendly words, so that the son was received with increased cordiality on this account. Milton, too, quite unexpectedly, met at the table with an old acquaintance. Opposite him sat a young man who taught music in the family of the Earl of Bridgewater. The poet recognized the features of his neighbor, though he had not seen him for several years, and did not hesitate to greet him as his former fellow-student, Henry Lawes. Alice was the more delighted with this incident, as the modest and able teacher was a special favorite of hers. The recognition gave rise to reminiscences by which the young lady, who listened attentively to the conversation of the friends, learned many interesting events which had taken place in the early years of the poet. Lawes alluded particularly to a former adventure which had happened to Milton, and the recollection of which seemed to embarrass the The young lord was soon on very friendly terms with the companions of his sister, of whom only King was unknown to him, as he had already met with the poet at his aunt's house. At a beck from him, horses were brought for the friends; the servants, with their torches, led the way, and the whole cavalcade moved toward Ludlow Castle, which they reached before the threatening thunder-modest poet. storm had burst forth. The parents received their guests in the hall of the castle with old English politeness and hospitality. An ample repast was served up, and Alice, who was seated between the friends, had to relate her adventure once more. In doing so, she said as little as possible about the imprudent conduct of her absent brother; but he was nevertheless universally censured. Great was the praise accorded to the chivalrous conduct of the two friends. Their noble host conversed with them in the most cordial manner, and requested them to spend several days at the castle, the modest demeanor and the intelligent answers of his young guests having made a very favorable impression upon him. As is usual on such occasions, it turned out during their conversation that there were many points of mutual interest between them. The Lord President of Wales had formerly been a cquainted with King's father. They had often met at "Do you remember the nickname which we gave to you at school?" said the musician to his friend. "Oh, certainly,” replied Milton, blushing. "What nickname was it?" asked Alice. "We called friend Milton only 'the Lady of the College,'" replied the musician, gayly. "This nickname was applied to him on account of his delicate, girlish appearance. Indeed, what with his slight form, his rosy cheeks, and bashful demeanor, he resembled a timid young lady rather than the wild, impetuous boys who sat in the same class with him. We teased him for this reason very often, but at the bottem we were very fond of him, for he was the best-hearted fellow in the world. Nor was he lacking in courage, for all his softness and delicacy. When we teased him too much, he defended himself bravely, and made up by his agility and skill for what he lacked in brute strength. I would not have advised anybody to challenge him. In wrestling, fen |