The occasion of this interruption we can only explain
by resuming the adventures of another set of our characters;
for, like old Ariosto, we do not pique ourselves upon
continuing uniformly to keep company with any one
personage of our drama.
Away! our journey lies through dell and dingle,
Where the blithe fawn trips by its timid mother,
Where the broad oak, with intercepting boughs,
Chequers the sunbeam in the green-sward alley—–
Up and away!—–for lovely paths are
these
To tread, when the glad Sun is on his throne
Less pleasant, and less safe, when Cynthia’s
lamp
With doubtful glimmer lights the dreary forest.
Ettrick Forest
When Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop down senseless
in the lists at Ashby, his first impulse was to order
him into the custody and care of his own attendants,
but the words choked in his throat. He could
not bring himself to acknowledge, in presence of such
an assembly, the son whom he had renounced and disinherited.
He ordered, however, Oswald to keep an eye upon him;
and directed that officer, with two of his serfs, to
convey Ivanhoe to Ashby as soon as the crowd had dispersed.
Oswald, however, was anticipated in this good office.
The crowd dispersed, indeed, but the knight was nowhere
to be seen.
It was in vain that Cedric’s cupbearer looked
around for his young master—–he saw
the bloody spot on which he had lately sunk down,
but himself he saw no longer; it seemed as if the fairies
had conveyed him from the spot. Perhaps Oswald
(for the Saxons were very superstitious) might have
adopted some such hypothesis, to account for Ivanhoe’s
disappearance, had he not suddenly cast his eye upon
a person attired like a squire, in whom he recognised
the features of his fellow-servant Gurth. Anxious
concerning his master’s fate, and in despair
at his sudden disappearance, the translated swineherd
was searching for him everywhere, and had neglected,
in doing so, the concealment on which his own safety
depended. Oswald deemed it his duty to secure
Gurth, as a fugitive of whose fate his master was to
judge.
Renewing his enquiries concerning the fate of Ivanhoe,
the only information which the cupbearer could collect
from the bystanders was, that the knight had been
raised with care by certain well-attired grooms, and
placed in a litter belonging to a lady among the spectators,
which had immediately transported him out of the press.
Oswald, on receiving this intelligence, resolved to
return to his master for farther instructions, carrying
along with him Gurth, whom he considered in some sort
as a deserter from the service of Cedric.
The Saxon had been under very intense and agonizing
apprehensions concerning his son; for Nature had asserted
her rights, in spite of the patriotic stoicism which
laboured to disown her. But no sooner was he
informed that Ivanhoe was in careful, and probably
in friendly hands, than the paternal anxiety which
had been excited by the dubiety of his fate, gave
way anew to the feeling of injured pride and resentment,
at what he termed Wilfred’s filial disobedience.
