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Updated: June 18, 2025
Many tales withal Joanna told the Queen of the deeds of her husband and his kindred, and of the freeing of her and the other three from their captivity at Wailing Knowe, and of the evil days they wore there before the coming of their lads, which must have been worser by far, thought Goldilind, than the days of Greenharbour; so with all these tales, and the happy days in the house of the wild-woods, Goldilind now began to deem of this new life as if there had been none other fated for her, so much a part was she now become of the days of those woodmen and wolf-heads.
Then answered Granmar, "In nowise knowest thou how to speak seemly things, and to tell of matters remembered from of old, whereas thou layest lies on chiefs and lords; most like it is that thou must have long been nourished with wolf-meat abroad in the wild-woods, and has slain thy brethren; and a marvel it is to behold that thou darest to join thyself to the company of good men and true, thou, who hast sucked the blood of many a cold corpse."
As they sang, a picture of the wild-woods passed by me, as they were indeed, no park-like dainty glades and lawns, but rough and tangled thicket and bare waste and heath, solemn under the morning sun, and dreary with the rising of the evening wind and the drift of the night-long rain. But here the song dropped suddenly, and one of the men held up his hand as who would say, Hist!
Success did not, however, attend them at first, for on reaching the Hebrew's hut they found it empty, and no amount of shouting availed to call Beniah from the "vasty deep" of the chasm, or the dark recesses of the secret chamber. Pursuing their way, therefore, the small army was soon lost to view in the forest. We turn now to another scene in the wild-woods, not far distant from the Hot Swamp.
It was some solace to listen to the notes of the wild-woods the songs of birds and bee for these had become associated in my mind with the melodious tones of Lilian's voice to look upon the forest flowers; more especially upon the encarmined blossom of the bignonia now to me a symbol of the sweetest sentiment. The one most prized of all, I had carefully preserved.
And the Indians, coming from their distant wigwams to view the white man's settlement, marvel at the deep track which he makes, and perhaps are saddened by a flitting presentiment that this heavy tread will find its way over all the land; and that the wild-woods, the wild wolf, and the wild Indian will alike be trampled beneath it. Even so shall it be.
But in every case he left the song a far more beautiful thing than he found it. None of them perhaps is more beautiful than that he now wrote to his Jean "Of a' the airts* the wind can blaw, I dearly like the wet, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: The wild-woods grow and rivers row, And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean.
He stooped to pick it up, remembered, and let it lie. They looked into each other's eyes, very sadly. He saw her mistily through tears. She vanished. Vanished the rose garden, vanished Lord Harrow's house. And remained only a wild lake, an open space in which he stood, and wild-woods, and beyond more woods and hills and mountains.
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