Thusthingswentontillthisdayofmymother’sdeath。
ButbeforeIgofurtherImusttellthatSquireBozardlookedwithnofavouronthefriendshipbetweenhisdaughterandmyself——andthis，notbecausehedislikedme，butratherbecausehewouldhaveseenLilyweddedtomyelderbrotherGeoffrey，myfather’sheir，andnottoayoungerson。
Soharddidhegrowaboutthematteratlastthatwetwomightscarcelymeetexceptbyseemingaccident，whereasmybrotherwaseverwelcomeattheHall。
Andonthisaccountsomebitternessarosebetweenustwobrothers，asisapttobethecasewhenawomancomesbetweenfriendshoweverclose。
ForitmustbeknownthatmybrotherGeoffreyalsolovedLily，asallmenwouldhavelovedher，andwithabetterrightperhapsthanIhad——forhewasmyelderbythreeyearsandborntopossessions。
ItmayseemindeedthatIwassomewhathastytofallintothisstate，seeingthatatthetimeofwhichIwriteIwasnotyetofage；butyoungbloodisnimble，andmoreoverminewashalfSpanish，andmadeamanofmewhenmanyapure-bredEnglishmanisstillnothingbutaboy。
Forthebloodandthesunthatripensithavemuchtodowithsuchmatters，asIhaveseenoftenenoughamongtheIndianpeoplesofAnahuac，whoattheageoffifteenwilltaketothemselvesabrideoftwelve。
AttheleastitiscertainthatwhenIwaseighteenyearsofageIwasoldenoughtofallinloveaftersuchfashionthatIneverfelloutofitagainaltogether，althoughthehistoryofmylifemayseemtogivemetheliewhenIsayso。
ButItakeitthatamanmayloveseveralwomenandyetloveoneofthemthebestofall，beingtrueinthespirittothelawwhichhebreaksintheletter。
NowwhenIhadattainednineteenyearsIwasamanfullgrown，andwritingasIdoinextremeoldage，Imaysayitwithoutfalseshame，averyhandsomeyouthtoboot。
Iwasnotovertall，indeed，measuringbutfivefeetnineinchesandahalfinheight，butmylimbswerewellmade，andIwasbothdeepandbroadinthechest。
IncolourIwas，andmywhitehairnotwithstanding，amstillextraordinarilydarkhued，myeyesalsowerelargeanddark，andmyhair，whichwaswavy，wascoalblack。
InmydeportmentIwasreservedandgravetosadness，inspeechIwasslowandtemperate，andmoreaptatlisteningthanintalking。
IweighedmatterswellbeforeImadeupmyminduponthem，butbeingmadeup，nothingcouldturnmefromthatmindshortofdeathitself，whetheritweresetongoodorevil，onfollyorwisdom。
InthosedaysalsoIhadlittlereligion，since，partlybecauseofmyfather’ssecretteachingandpartlythroughtheworkingsofmyownreason，IhadlearnedtodoubtthedoctrinesoftheChurchastheyusedtobesetout。
Youthispronetoreasonbylargeleapsasitwere，andtoholdthatallthingsarefalsebecausesomeareprovedfalse；andthusattimesinthosedaysIthoughtthattherewasnoGod，becausethepriestsaidthattheimageoftheVirginatBungayweptanddidotherthingswhichIknewthatitdidnotdo。
NowIknowwellthatthereisaGod，formyownstoryprovesittomyheart。
Intruth，whatmancanlookbackacrossalonglifeandsaythatthereisnoGod，whenhecanseetheshadowofHishandlyingdeepuponhistaleofyears？
OnthissaddayofwhichIwriteIknewthatLily，whomIloved，wouldbewalkingalonebeneaththegreatpollardoaksintheparkofDitchinghamHall。
Here，inGrubswellasthespotiscalled，grew，andindeedstillgrow，certainhawthorntreesthataretheearliesttoblowofanyintheseparts，andwhenwehadmetatthechurchdoorontheSunday，LilysaidthattherewouldbebloomuponthembytheWednesday，andonthatafternoonsheshouldgotocutit。
Itmaywellbethatshespokethuswithdesign，forlovewillbreedcunningintheheartofthemostguilelessandtruthfulmaid。
Moreover，Inoticedthatthoughshesaiditbeforeherfatherandtherestofus，yetshewaitedtospeaktillmybrotherGeoffreywasoutofhearing，forshedidnotwishtogomayingwithhim，andalsothatasshespokesheshotaglanceofhergreyeyesatme。
ThenandthereIvowedtomyselfthatIalsowouldbegatheringhawthornbloominthissameplaceandonthatWednesdayafternoon，yes，evenifImustplaytruantandleaveallthesickofBungaytoNature’snursing。
Moreover，Iwasdeterminedononething，thatifIcouldfindLilyaloneIwoulddelaynolonger，buttellherallthatwasinmyheart；nogreatsecretindeed，forthoughnowordoflovehadeverpassedbetweenusasyet，eachknewtheother’shiddenthoughts。
NotthatIwasinthewaytobecomeaffiancedtoamaid，whohadmypathtocutintheworld，butIfearedthatifI
delayedtomakesureofheraffectionmybrotherwouldbebeforemewithherfather，andLilymightyieldtothattowhichshewouldnotyieldifoncewehadplightedtroth。
NowitchancedthatonthisafternoonIwashardputtoittoescapetomytryst，formymaster，thephysician，wasailing，andsentmetovisitthesickforhim，carryingthemtheirmedicines。
Atthelast，however，betweenfourandfiveo’clock，Ifled，askingnoleave。
TakingtheNorwichroadIranforamileandmoretillI
hadpassedtheManorHouseandthechurchturn，anddrewneartoDitchinghamPark。
ThenIdroppedmypacetoawalk，forIdidnotwishtocomebeforeLilyheatedanddisordered，butratherlookingmybest，towhichendIhadputonmySundaygarments。
NowasI
wentdownthelittlehillintheroadthatrunspastthepark，I
sawamanonhorsebackwholookedfirstatthebridle-path，thatatthisspotturnsofftotheright，thenbackacrossthecommonlandstowardstheVineyardHillsandtheWaveney，andthenalongtheroadasthoughhedidnotknowwhichwaytoturn。
Iwasquicktonoticethings——thoughatthismomentmymindwasnotatitsswiftest，beingsetonothermatters，andchieflyastohowIshouldtellmytaletoLily——andIsawatoncethatthismanwasnotofourcountry。
Hewasverytallandnoble-looking，dressedinrichgarmentsofvelvetadornedbyagoldchainthathungabouthisneck，andasI
judgedaboutfortyyearsofage。
Butitwashisfacewhichchieflycaughtmyeye，foratthatmomenttherewassomethingterribleaboutit。
Itwaslong，thin，anddeeplycarved；theeyeswerelarge，andgleamedlikegoldinsunlight；themouthwassmallandwellshaped，butitworeadevilishandcruelsneer；theforeheadlofty，indicatingamanofmind，andmarkedwithaslightscar。
Fortherestthecavalierwasdarkandsouthern-looking，hiscurlinghair，likemyown，wasblack，andheworeapeakedchestnut-colouredbeard。
BythetimethatIhadfinishedtheseobservationsmyfeethadbroughtmealmosttothestranger’sside，andforthefirsttimehecaughtsightofme。
Instantlyhisfacechanged，thesneerleftit，anditbecamekindlyandpleasantlooking。
LiftinghisbonnetwithmuchcourtesyhestammeredsomethinginbrokenEnglish，ofwhichallthatIcouldcatchwasthewordYarmouth；thenperceivingthatIdidnotunderstandhim，hecursedtheEnglishtongueandallthosewhospokeit，aloudandingoodCastilian。
’IfthesenorwillgraciouslyexpresshiswishinSpanish，’Isaid，speakinginthatlanguage，’itmaybeinmypowertohelphim。’
’What！youspeakSpanish，youngsir，’hesaid，starting，’andyetyouarenotaSpaniard，thoughbyyourfaceyouwellmightbe。
Caramba！butitisstrange！’andheeyedmecuriously。
’Itmaybestrange，sir，’Ianswered，’butIaminhaste。
Bepleasedtoaskyourquestionandletmego。’
’Ah！’hesaid，’perhapsIcanguessthereasonofyourhurry。
I
sawawhiterobedownbythestreamletyonder，’andhenoddedtowardsthepark。
’Taketheadviceofanolderman，youngsir，andbecareful。
Makewhatsportyouwillwithsuch，butneverbelievethemandnevermarrythem——lestyoushouldlivetodesiretokillthem！’
HereImadeasthoughIwouldpasson，buthespokeagain。
’Pardonmywords，theywerewellmeant，andperhapsyoumaycometolearntheirtruth。
Iwilldetainyounomore。
WillyougraciouslydirectmeonmyroadtoYarmouth，forIamnotsureofit，havingriddenbyanotherway，andyourEnglishcountryissofulloftreesthatamancannotseeamile？’
Iwalkedadozenpacesdownthebridle-paththatjoinedtheroadatthisplace，andpointedoutthewaythatheshouldgo，pastDitchinghamchurch。
AsIdidsoInoticedthatwhileIspokethestrangerwaswatchingmyfacekeenlyand，asitseemedtome，withaninwardfearwhichhestrovetomasterandcouldnot。
WhenIhadfinishedagainheraisedhisbonnetandthankedme，saying，
’Willyoubesograciousastotellmeyourname，youngSir？’
’Whatismynametoyou？’Iansweredroughly，forIdislikedthisman。
’Youhavenottoldmeyours。’
’No，indeed，Iamtravellingincognito。
PerhapsIalsohavemetaladyintheseparts，’andhesmiledstrangely。
’Ionlywishedtoknowthenameofonewhohaddonemeacourtesy，butwhoitseemsisnotsocourteousasIdeemed。’
Andheshookhishorse’sreins。
’Iamnotashamedofmyname，’Isaid。
’Ithasbeenanhonestonesofar，andifyouwishtoknowit，itisThomasWingfield。’
’Ithoughtit，’hecried，andashespokehisfacegrewlikethefaceofafiend。
ThenbeforeIcouldfindtimeeventowonder，hehadsprungfromhishorseandstoodwithinthreepacesofme。
’Aluckyday！
Nowwewillseewhattruththereisinprophecies，’
hesaid，drawinghissilver-mountedsword。
’Anameforaname；
JuandeGarciagivesyougreeting，ThomasWingfield。’
Now，strangeasitmayseem，itwasatthismomentonlythatthereflashedacrossmymindthethoughtofallthatIhadheardabouttheSpanishstranger，thereportofwhosecomingtoYarmouthhadstirredmyfatherandmothersodeeply。
AtanyothertimeIshouldhaveremembereditsoonenough，butonthisdayIwassosetuponmytrystwithLilyandwhatIshouldsaytoher，thatnothingelsecouldholdaplaceinmythoughts。
’Thismustbetheman，’Isaidtomyself，andthenIsaidnomore，forhewasonme，swordup。
Isawthekeenpointflashtowardsme，andsprangtoonesidehavingadesiretofly，as，beingunarmedexceptformystick，Imighthavedonewithoutshame。
ButspringasIwouldIcouldnotavoidthethrustaltogether。
Itwasaimedatmyheartanditpiercedthesleeveofmyleftarm，passingthroughtheflesh——nomore。
Yetatthepainofthatcutallthoughtofflightleftme，andinsteadofitacoldangerfilledme，causingmetowishtokillthismanwhohadattackedmethusandunprovoked。
InmyhandwasmystoutoakenstaffwhichIhadcutmyselfonthebanksofHollowHill，andifIwouldfightImustmakesuchplaywiththisasImight。
ItseemsapoorweaponindeedtomatchagainstaToledobladeinthehandsofonewhocouldhandleitwell，andyettherearevirtuesinacudgel，forwhenamanseeshimselfthreatenedwithit，heislikelytoforgetthatheholdsinhishandamoredeadlyweapon，andtotaketotheguardingofhisownheadinplaceofrunninghisadversarythroughthebody。
Andthatwaswhatchancedinthiscase，thoughhowitcameaboutexactlyIcannottell。
TheSpaniardwasafineswordsman，andhadIbeenarmedashewaswoulddoubtlesshaveovermatchedme，whoatthatagehadnopracticeintheart，whichwasalmostunknowninEngland。
Butwhenhesawthebigstickflourishedoverhimheforgothisownadvantage，andraisedhisarmtowardawaytheblow。
Downitcameuponthebackofhishand，andlo！hisswordfellfromittothegrass。
ButIdidnotsparehimbecauseofthat，formybloodwasup。