The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900)
“No, no, I will walk,” she replied hastily. "I must get home quickly; I do not wish my
husband to know where I have been. How could we face our lives if he guessed that I
knew! I wish to spare him that humiliation. Oh, with what a web of duplicity do we
seem to be entangled! Mr. Renshaw is anxious to conceal from him the share you have
taken in this business, Simon; and indeed it were as well — the Squire would never
forgive you."
He made no reply, and she led the way downstairs.
Outside the world was still storm-ridden, and Simon paced by the lady's side without
attempting to speak. She drew her cloak closely about her and bent her head forward,
yet could advance but slowly against the driving wind.
Simon stooped towards her: "Will you take my arm, madam?" he asked hesitatingly.
She passed her hand through his arm without replying, and they proceeded, as before, in
silence, but a little more rapidly now, for the yeoman's arm was strong, and she was
glad of its support. It seemed long before they came to the path which led through the
wood, and there Simon once more endeavoured to dissuade her from pursuing it. But
she was firm; and he opened the
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gate preparing to follow her as she passed through; she turned, however, and faced him;
her eyes looked dim beneath the shadow of her hood.
"I need not trouble you to come any farther,” she said; "I can find my way quite well
from here."
He made no further protest, and she hurried along the narrow path which led beneath the
trees. He paused, looking after her, unwilling to leave the spot in his fear lest some
accident might befall her. With what wild fury did the wind rush amid those creaking
boughs, how easily it might snap them! There, at the edge of the wood, he could see one
or two tall saplings laid prone upon the ground; and over his head how the trees rocked,
how the boughs swayed! The air was full of a rain of broken twigs and torn leaves —
the fresh green of this year mingling with the dry spoil of last autumn, which was
caught up and whirled about in brown turbulent eddies. Should he go home, or should
he follow the lady at a distance?