children of perdition, tremble without believing, and fear even while
they blaspheme.
It follows, of course, that nothing could be treated with more scorn by
Mr. Bletson, than the debates about Prelacy and Presbytery, about
Presbytery and Independency, about Quakers and Anabaptists,
Muggletonians and Brownists, and all the various sects with which the
Civil War had commenced, and by which its dissensions were still
continued. "It was," he said, "as if beasts of burden should quarrel
amongst themselves about the fashion of their halters and pack-saddles,
instead of embracing a favourable opportunity of throwing them aside."
Other witty and pithy remarks he used to make when time and place
suited; for instance, at the club called the Rota, frequented by St.
John, and established by Harrington, for the free discussion of
political and religious subjects.
But when Bletson was out of this academy, or stronghold of philosophy,
he was very cautious how he carried his contempt of the general
prejudice in favour of religion and Christianity further than an implied
objection or a sneer. If he had an opportunity of talking in private
with an ingenuous and intelligent youth, he sometimes attempted to make
a proselyte, and showed much address in bribing the vanity of
inexperience, by suggesting that a mind like his ought to spurn the
prejudices impressed upon it in childhood; and when assuming the _latus
clavus_ of reason, assuring him that such as he, laying aside the
_bulla_ of juvenile incapacity, as Bletson called it, should proceed to
examine and decide for himself. It frequently happened, that the youth
was induced to adopt the doctrines in whole, or in part, of the sage who
had seen his natural genius, and who had urged him to exert it in
examining, detecting, and declaring for himself, and thus flattery gave
proselytes to infidelity, which could not have been gained by all the
powerful eloquence or artful sophistry of the infidel.
These attempts to extend the influence of what was called freethinking
and philosophy, were carried on, as we have hinted, with a caution
dictated by the timidity of the philosopher's disposition. He was
conscious his doctrines were suspected, and his proceedings watched, by
the two principal sects of Prelatists and Presbyterians, who, however
inimical to each other, were still more hostile to one who was an
opponent, not only to a church establishment of any kind, but to every
denomination of Christianity. He found it more easy to shroud himself
among the Independents, whose demands were for a general liberty of
conscience, or an unlimited toleration, and whose faith, differing in
all respects and particulars, was by some pushed into such wild errors,
as to get totally beyond the bounds of every species of Christianity,
and approach very near to infidelity itself, as extremes of each kind
are said to approach each other. Bletson mixed a good deal among those
sectaries; and such was his confidence in his own logic and address,
that he is supposed to have entertained hopes of bringing to his
opinions in time the enthusiastic Vane, as well as the no less
enthusiastic Harrison, provided he could but get them to resign their
visions of a Fifth Monarchy, and induce them to be contented with a
reign of Philosophers in England for the natural period of their lives,
instead of the reign of the Saints during the Millenium.
Such was the singular group into which Everard was now introduced;
showing, in their various opinions, upon how many devious coasts human
nature may make shipwreck, when she has once let go her hold on the
anchor which religion has given her to lean upon; the acute self-conceit
and worldly learning of Bletson - the rash and ignorant conclusions of
the fierce and under-bred Harrison, leading them into the opposite
extremes of enthusiasm and infidelity, while Desborough,
constitutionally stupid, thought nothing about religion at all; and
while the others were active in making sail on different but equally
erroneous courses, he might be said to perish like a vessel, which
springs a leak and founders in the roadstead. It was wonderful to behold
what a strange variety of mistakes and errors, on the part of the King
and his Ministers, on the part of the Parliament and their leaders, on
the part of the allied kingdoms of Scotland and England towards each
other, had combined to rear up men of such dangerous opinions and
interested characters among the arbiters of the destiny of Britain.
Those who argue for party's sake, will see all the faults on the one
side, without deigning to look at those on the other; those who study
history for instruction, will perceive that nothing but the want of
concession on either side, and the deadly height to which the animosity
of the King's and Parliament's parties had arisen, could have so totally
overthrown the well-poised balance of the English constitution. But we
hasten to quit political reflections, the rather that ours, we believe,
will please neither Whig nor Tory.
* * * * *
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH.
Three form a College - an you give us four,
Let him bring his share with him.
BRAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Mr. Bletson arose and paid his respects to Colonel Everard, with the
ease and courtesy of a gentleman of the time; though on every account
grieved at his intrusion, as a religious man who held his free-thinking
principles in detestation, and would effectually prevent his conversion
of Harrison, and even of Desborough, if any thing could be moulded out
of such a clod, to the worship of the _Animus Mundi_. Moreover, Bletson
knew Everard to be a man of steady probity, and by no means disposed to
close with a scheme on which he had successfully sounded the other two,
and which was calculated to assure the Commissioners of some little
private indemnification for the trouble they were to give themselves in
the public business. The philosopher was yet less pleased, when he saw
the magistrate the pastor who had met him in his flight of the preceding
evening, when he had been seen, _parma non bene relicta_, with cloak and
doublet left behind him.
The presence of Colonel Everard was as unpleasing to Desborough as to
Bletson: but the former having no philosophy in him, nor an idea that it
was possible for any man to resist helping himself out of untold money,
was chiefly embarrassed by the thought, that the plunder which they
might be able to achieve out of their trust, might, by this unwelcome
addition to their number, be divided into four parts instead of three;
and this reflection added to the natural awkwardness with which he
grumbled forth a sort of welcome, addressed to Everard.
As for Harrison, he remained like one on higher thoughts intent; his
posture unmoved, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as before, and in no way
indicating the least consciousness that the company had been more than
doubled around him.
Meantime, Everard took his place at the table, as a man who assumed his
own right, and pointed to his companions to sit down nearer the foot of
the board. Wildrake so far misunderstood his signals, as to sit down
above the Mayor; but rallying his recollection at a look from his
patron, he rose and took his place lower, whistling, however, as he
went, a sound at which the company stared, as at a freedom highly
unbecoming. To complete his indecorum, he seized upon a pipe, and
filling it from a large tobacco-box, was soon immersed in a cloud of his
own raising; from which a hand shortly after emerged, seized on the
black-jack of ale, withdrew it within the vapoury sanctuary, and, after
a potential draught, replaced it upon the table, its owner beginning to
renew the cloud which his intermitted exercise of the tube had almost
allowed to subside.
Nobody made any observation on his conduct, out of respect, probably, to
Colonel Everard, who bit his lip, but continued silent; aware that
censure might extract some escapade more unequivocally characteristic of
a cavalier, from his refractory companion. As silence seemed awkward,
and the others made no advances to break it, beyond the ordinary
salutation, Colonel Everard at length said, "I presume, gentlemen, that
you are somewhat surprised at my arrival here, and thus intruding myself
into your meeting?"
"Why the dickens should we be surprised, Colonel?" said Desborough; "we
know his Excellency, my brother-in-law Noll's - I mean my Lord Cromwell's
way, of overquartering his men in the towns he marches through. Thou
hast obtained a share in our commission?"
"And in that," said Bletson, smiling and bowing, "the Lord-General has
given us the most acceptable colleague that could have been added to our
number. No doubt your authority for joining with us must be under
warrant of the Council of State?"
"Of that, gentlemen," said the Colonel, "I will presently advise
you." - He took out his warrant accordingly, and was about to communicate
the contents; but observing that there were three or four half-empty
flasks upon the table, that Desborough looked more stupid than usual,
and that the philosopher's eyes were reeling in his head,
notwithstanding the temperance of Bletson's usual habits, he concluded
that they had been fortifying themselves against the horrors of the
haunted mansion, by laying in a store of what is called Dutch courage,
and therefore prudently resolved to postpone his more important business
with them till the cooler hour of morning. He, therefore, instead of
presenting the General's warrant superseding their commission, contented
himself with replying, - "My business has, of course, some reference to
your proceedings here. But here is - excuse my curiosity - a reverend
gentleman," pointing to Holdenough, "who has told me that you are so
strangely embarrassed here, as to require both the civil and spiritual
authority to enable you to keep possession of Woodstock."
"Before we go into that matter," said Bletson, blushing up to the eyes
at the recollection of his own fears, so manifestly displayed, yet so
inconsistent with his principles, "I should like to know who this other
stranger is, who has come with the worthy magistrate, and the no less
worthy Presbyterian?"
"Meaning me?" said Wildrake, laying his pipe aside; "Gadzooks, the time
hath been that I could have answered the question with a better title;
but at present I am only his honour's poor clerk, or secretary,
whichever is the current phrase."
"'Fore George, my lively blade, thou art a frank fellow of thy tattle,"
said Desborough. "There is my secretary Tomkins, whom men sillily enough
call Fibbet, and the honourable Lieutenant-General Harrison's secretary
Bibbet, who are now at supper below stairs, that durst not for their
ears speak a phrase above their breath in the presence of their betters,
unless to answer a question."
"Yes, Colonel Everard," said the philosopher, with his quiet smile,
glad, apparently, to divert the conversation from the topic of last
night's alarm, and recollections which humbled his self-love and
self-satisfaction, - "yes; and when Master Fibbet and Master Bibbet _do_
speak, their affirmations are as much in a common mould of mutual
attestation, as their names would accord in the verses of a poet. If
Master Fibbet happens to tell a fiction, Master Bibbet swears it as
truth. If Master Bibbet chances to have gotten drunk in the fear of the
Lord, Master Fibbet swears he is sober. I have called my own secretary
Gibbet, though his name chances to be only Gibeon, a worthy Israelite at
your service, but as pure a youth as ever picked a lamb-bone at Paschal.
But I call him Gibbet, merely to make up the holy trefoil with another
rhyme. This squire of thine, Colonel Everard, looks as if he might be
worthy to be coupled with the rest of the fraternity."
"Not I, truly," said the cavalier; "I'll be coupled with no Jew that was
ever whelped, and no Jewess neither."
"Scorn not for that, young man," said the philosopher; "the Jews are, in
point of religion, the elder brethren, you know."
"The Jews older than the Christians?" said Desborough, "'fore George,
they will have thee before the General Assembly, Bletson, if thou
venturest to say so."
Wildrake laughed without ceremony at the gross ignorance of Desborough,
and was joined by a sniggling response from behind the cupboard, which,
when inquired into, proved to be produced by the serving-men. These
worthies, timorous as their betters, when they were supposed to have
left the room, had only withdrawn to their present place of concealment.
"How now, ye rogues," said Bletson, angrily; "do you not know your duty
better?"
"We beg your worthy honour's pardon," said one of the men, "but we dared
not go down stairs without a light."
"A light, ye cowardly poltroons?" said the philosopher; "what - to show
which of you looks palest when a rat squeaks? - but take a candlestick
and begone, you cowardly villains! the devils you are so much afraid of
must be but paltry kites, if they hawk at such bats as you are."
The servants, without replying, took up one of the candlesticks, and
prepared to retreat, Trusty Tomkins at the head of the troop, when
suddenly, as they arrived at the door of the parlour, which had been
left half open, it was shut violently. The three terrified domestics
tumbled back into the middle of the room, as if a shot had been
discharged in their face, and all who were at the table started to their
feet.
Colonel Everard was incapable of a moment's fear, even if any thing
frightful had been seen; but he remained stationary, to see what his
companions would do, and to get at the bottom, if possible, of the cause
of their alarm upon an occasion so trifling. The philosopher seemed to
think that _he_ was the person chiefly concerned to show manhood on the
occasion.
He walked to the door accordingly, murmuring at the cowardice of the
servants; but at such a snail's pace, that it seemed he would most
willingly have been anticipated by any one whom his reproaches had
roused to exertion. "Cowardly blockheads!" he said at last, seizing hold
of the handle of the door, but without turning it effectually round -
"dare you not open a door?" - (still fumbling with the lock) - "dare you
not go down a stair-case without a light? Here, bring me the candle, you
cowardly villains! - By Heaven, something sighs on the outside!"
As he spoke, he let go the handle of the parlour door, and stepped back
a pace or two into the apartment, with cheeks as pale as the band he
wore.
"_Deus adjutor meus_!" said the Presbyterian clergyman, rising from his
seat. "Give place, sir," addressing Bletson; "it would seem I know more
of this matter than thou, and I bless Heaven I am armed for the
conflict."
Bold as a grenadier about to mount a breach, yet with the same belief in
the existence of a great danger to be encountered, as well as the same
reliance in the goodness of his cause, the worthy man stepped before the
philosophical Bletson, and taking a light from a sconce in one hand,
quietly opened the door with the other, and standing in the threshold,
said, "Here is nothing!"
"And who expected to see any thing," said Bletson, "excepting those
terrified oafs, who take fright at every puff of wind that whistles
through the passages of this old dungeon?"
"Mark you, Master Tomkins," said one of the waiting-men in a whisper to
the steward, - "See how boldly the minister pressed forward before all of
them. Ah! Master Tomkins, our parson is the real commissioned officer of
the church - your lay-preachers are no better than a parcel of club-men
and volunteers."
"Follow me those who list," said Master Holdenough, "or go before me
those who choose, I will walk through the habitable places of this house
before I leave it, and satisfy myself whether Satan hath really mingled
himself among these dreary dens of ancient wickedness, or whether, like
the wicked of whom holy David speaketh, we are afraid, and flee when no
one pursueth."
Harrison, who had heard these words, sprung from his seat, and drawing
his sword, exclaimed, "Were there as many fiends in the house as there
are hairs on my head, upon this cause I will charge them up to their
very trenches!"
So saying, he brandished his weapon, and pressed to the head of the
column, where he moved side by side with the minister. The Mayor of
Woodstock next joined the body, thinking himself safer perhaps in the
company of his pastor; and the whole train moved forward in close order,
accompanied by the servants bearing lights, to search the Lodge for some
cause of that panic with which they seemed to be suddenly seized.
"Nay, take me with you, my friends," said Colonel Everard, who had
looked on in surprise, and was now about to follow the party, when
Bletson laid hold on his cloak, and begged him to remain.
"You see, my good Colonel," he said, affecting a courage which his
shaking voice belied, "here are only you and I and honest Desborough
left behind in garrison, while all the others are absent on a sally. We
must not hazard the whole troops in one sortie - that were
unmilitary - Ha, ha, ha!"
"In the name of Heaven, what means all this?" said Everard. "I heard a
foolish tale about apparitions as I came this way, and now I find you
all half mad with fear, and cannot get a word of sense among so many of
you. Fie, Colonel Desborough - fie, Master Bletson - try to compose
yourselves, and let me know, in Heaven's name, the cause of all this
disturbance. One would be apt to think your brains were turned."
"And so mine well may," said Desborough, "ay, and overturned too, since
my bed last night was turned upside down, and I was placed for ten
minutes heels uppermost, and head downmost, like a bullock going to be
shod."
"What means this nonsense, Master Bletson? - Desborough must have had the
nightmare."
"No, faith, Colonel; the goblins, or whatever else they were, had been
favourable to honest Desborough, for they reposed the whole of his
person on that part of his body which - Hark, did you not hear
something? - is the central point of gravity, namely, his head."
"Did you see any thing to alarm you?" said the Colonel.
"Nothing," said Bletson; "but we heard hellish noises, as all our people
did; and I, believing little of ghosts and apparitions, concluded the
cavaliers were taking us at advantage; so, remembering Rainsborough's
fate, I e'en jumped the window, and ran to Woodstock, to call the
soldiers to the rescue of Harrison and Desborough."
"And did you not first go to see what the danger was?"
"Ah, my good friend, you forget that I laid down my commission at the
time of the self-denying ordinance. It would have been quite
inconsistent with my duty as a Parliament-man to be brawling amidst a
set of ruffians, without any military authority. No - when the Parliament
commanded me to sheath my sword, Colonel, I have too much veneration for
their authority to be found again with it drawn in my hand."
"But the Parliament," said Desborough, hastily, "did not command you to
use your heels when your hands could have saved a man from choking. Odds
dickens! you might have stopped when you saw my bed canted heels
uppermost, and me half stifled in the bed-clothes - you might, I say,
have stopped and lent a hand to put it to rights, instead of jumping out
of the window, like a new-shorn sheep, so soon as you had run across my
room."
"Nay, worshipful Master Desborough," said Bletson, winking at Everard,
to show that he was playing on his thick-sculled colleague, "how could I
tell your particular mode of reposing? - there are many tastes - I have
known men who slept by choice on a slope or angle of forty-five."
"Yes, but did ever a man sleep standing on his head, except by miracle?"
said Desborough.
"Now, as to miracles" - said the philosopher, confident in the presence
of Everard, besides that an opportunity of scoffing at religion really
in some degree diverted his fear - "I leave these out of the question,
seeing that the evidence on such subjects seems as little qualified to
carry conviction as a horse-hair to land a leviathan."
A loud clap of thunder, or a noise as formidable, rang through the Lodge
as the scoffer had ended, which struck him pale and motionless, and made
Desborough throw himself on his knees, and repeat exclamations and
prayers in much admired confusion.
"There must be contrivance here," exclaimed Everard; and snatching one
of the candles from a sconce, he rushed out of the apartment, little
heeding the entreaties of the philosopher, who, in the extremity of his
distress, conjured him by the _Animus Mundi_ to remain to the assistance
of a distressed philosopher endangered by witches, and a Parliament-man
assaulted by ruffians. As for Desborough, he only gaped like a clown in
a pantomime; and, doubtful whether to follow or stop, his natural
indolence prevailed, and he sat still.
When on the landing-place of the stairs, Everard paused a moment to
consider which was the best course to take. He heard the voices of men
talking fast and loud, like people who wish to drown their fears, in the
lower story; and aware that nothing could be discovered by those whose
inquiries were conducted in a manner so noisy, he resolved to proceed in
a different direction, and examine the second floor, which he had now
gained.
He had known every corner, both of the inhabited and uninhabited part of
the mansion, and availed himself of the candle to traverse two or three
intricate passages, which he was afraid he might not remember with
sufficient accuracy. This movement conveyed him to a sort of
_oeil-de-boeuf_, an octagon vestibule, or small hall, from which various
rooms opened. Amongst these doors, Everard selected that which led to a
very long, narrow, and dilapidated gallery, built in the time of Henry
VIII., and which, running along the whole south-west side of the
building, communicated at different points with the rest of the mansion.
This he thought was likely to be the post occupied by those who proposed
to act the sprites upon the occasion; especially as its length and shape
gave him some idea that it was a spot where the bold thunder might in
many ways be imitated.
Determined to ascertain the truth if possible, he placed his light on a
table in the vestibule, and applied himself to open the door into the
gallery. At this point he found himself strongly opposed either by a
bolt drawn, or, as he rather conceived, by somebody from within
resisting his attempt. He was induced to believe the latter, because the
resistance slackened and was renewed, like that of human strength,
instead of presenting the permanent opposition of an inanimate obstacle.
Though Everard was a strong and active young man, he exhausted his
strength in the vain attempt to open the door; and having paused to take
breath, was about to renew his efforts with foot and shoulder, and to
call at the same time for assistance, when to his surprise, on again
attempting the door more gently, in order to ascertain if possible where
the strength of the opposing obstacle was situated, he found it gave way
to a very slight impulse, some impediment fell broken to the ground, and
the door flew wide open. The gust of wind, occasioned by the sudden
opening of the door, blew out the candle, and Everard was left in
darkness, save where the moonshine, which the long side-row of latticed
windows dimmed, could imperfectly force its way into the gallery, which
lay in ghostly length before him.
The melancholy and doubtful twilight was increased by a quantity of
creeping plants on the outside, which, since all had been neglected in
these ancient halls, now completely overgrown, had in some instances
greatly diminished, and in others almost quite choked up, the space of
the lattices, extending between the heavy stone shaftwork which divided
the windows, both lengthways and across. On the other side there were no
windows at all, and the gallery had been once hung round with paintings,
chiefly portraits, by which that side of the apartment had been adorned.
Most of the pictures had been removed, yet the empty frames of some, and
the tattered remnants of others, were still visible along the extent of
the waste gallery; the look of which was so desolate, and it appeared so
well adapted for mischief, supposing there were enemies near him, that
Everard could not help pausing at the entrance, and recommending himself
to God, ere, drawing his sword, he advanced into the apartment, treading
as lightly as possible, and keeping in the shadow as much as he could.
Markham Everard was by no means superstitious, but he had the usual
credulity of the times; and though he did not yield easily to tales of
supernatural visitations, yet he could not help thinking he was in the
very situation, where, if such things were ever permitted, they might be
expected to take place, while his own stealthy and ill-assured pace, his
drawn weapon, and extended arms, being the very attitude and action of
doubt and suspicion, tended to increase in his mind the gloomy feelings
of which they are the usual indications, and with which they are
constantly associated. Under such unpleasant impressions, and conscious
of the neighbourhood of something unfriendly, Colonel Everard had
already advanced about half along the gallery, when he heard some one
sigh very near him, and a low soft voice pronounce his name.
"Here I am," he replied, while his heart beat thick and short. "Who
calls on Markham Everard?"
Another sigh was the only answer.
"Speak," said the Colonel, "whoever or whatsoever you are, and tell with
what intent and purpose you are lurking in these apartments?"
"With a better intent than yours," returned the soft voice.
"Than mine!" answered Everard in great surprise. "Who are you that dare
judge of my intents?"
"What, or who are you, Markham Everard, who wander by moonlight through
these deserted halls of royalty, where none should be but those who
mourn their downfall, or are sworn to avenge it?"
"It is - and yet it cannot be," said Everard; "yet it is, and must be.
Alice Lee, the devil or you speaks. Answer me, I conjure you! - speak
openly - on what dangerous scheme are you engaged? where is your father?
why are you here? - wherefore do you run so deadly a venture? - Speak, I
conjure you, Alice Lee!"
"She whom you call on is at the distance of miles from this spot. What
if her Genius speaks when she is absent? - what if the soul of an
ancestress of hers and yours were now addressing you? - what if" -
"Nay," answered Everard, "but what if the dearest of human beings has
caught a touch of her father's enthusiasm? - what if she is exposing her
person to danger, her reputation to scandal, by traversing in disguise
and darkness a house filled with armed men? Speak to me, my fair cousin,
in your own person. I am furnished with powers to protect my uncle, Sir
Henry - to protect you too, dearest Alice, even against the consequences
of this visionary and wild attempt. Speak - I see where you are, and,
with all my respect, I cannot submit to be thus practised upon. Trust
me - trust your cousin Markham with your hand, and believe that he will
die or place you in honourable safety."
As he spoke, he exercised his eyes as keenly as possible to detect where
the speaker stood; and it seemed to him, that about three yards from him
there was a shadowy form, of which he could not discern even the
outline, placed as it was within the deep and prolonged shadow thrown by
a space of wall intervening betwixt two windows, upon that side of the
room from which the light was admitted. He endeavoured to calculate, as
well as he could, the distance betwixt himself and the object which he
watched, under the impression, that if, by even using a slight degree of
compulsion, he could detach his beloved Alice from the confederacy into
which he supposed her father's zeal for the cause of royalty had engaged
her, he would be rendering them both the most essential favour. He could
not indeed but conclude, that however successfully the plot which he
conceived to be in agitation had proceeded against the timid Bletson,
the stupid Desborough, and the crazy Harrison, there was little doubt
that at length their artifices must necessarily bring shame and danger
on those engaged in it.
It must also be remembered, that Everard's affection to his cousin,
although of the most respectful and devoted character, partook less of
the distant veneration which a lover of those days entertained for the
lady whom he worshipped with humble diffidence, than of the fond and
familiar feelings which a brother entertains towards a younger sister,
whom he thinks himself entitled to guide, advise, and even in some
degree to control. So kindly and intimate had been their intercourse,
that he had little more hesitation in endeavouring to arrest her
progress in the dangerous course in which she seemed to be engaged, even
at the risk of giving her momentary offence, than he would have had in
snatching her from a torrent or conflagration, at the chance of hurting
her by the violence of his grasp. All this passed through his mind in
the course of a single minute; and he resolved at all events to detain
her on the spot, and compel, if possible, an explanation from her.
With this purpose, Everard again conjured his cousin, in the name of
Heaven, to give up this idle and dangerous mummery; and lending an
accurate ear to her answer, endeavoured from the sound to calculate as
nearly as possible the distance between them.
"I am not she for whom you take me," said the voice; "and dearer regards
than aught connected with her life or death, bid me warn you to keep
aloof, and leave this place."
"Not till I have convinced you of your childish folly," said the
Colonel, springing forward, and endeavouring to catch hold of her who
spoke to him. But no female form was within his grasp. On the contrary,
he was met by a shock which could come from no woman's arm, and which
was rude enough to stretch him on his back on the floor. At the same
time he felt the point of a sword at his throat, and his hands so
completely mastered, that not the slightest defence remained to him.
"A cry for assistance," said a voice near him, but not that which he had
hitherto heard, "will be stifled in your blood! - No harm is meant
you - be wise and be silent."
The fear of death, which Everard had often braved in the field of
battle, became more intense as he felt himself in the hands of unknown
assassins, and totally devoid of all means of defence. The sharp point
of the sword pricked his bare throat, and the foot of him who held it
was upon his breast. He felt as if a single thrust would put an end to
life, and all the feverish joys and sorrows which agitate us so
strangely, and from which we are yet so reluctant to part. Large drops
of perspiration stood upon his forehead - his heart throbbed, as if it
would burst from its confinement in the bosom - he experienced the agony
which fear imposes on the brave man, acute in proportion to that which
pain inflicts when it subdues the robust and healthy.
"Cousin Alice," - he attempted to speak, and the sword's point pressed
his throat yet more closely, - "Cousin, let me not be murdered in a
manner so fearful!"
"I tell you," replied the voice, "that you speak to one who is not here;
but your life is not aimed at, provided you swear on your faith as a
Christian, and your honour as a gentleman, that you will conceal what
has happened, whether from the people below, or from any other person.
On this condition you may rise; and if you seek her, you will find Alice
Lee at Joceline's cottage, in the forest."
"Since I may not help myself otherwise," said Everard, "I swear, as I
have a sense of religion and honour, I will say nothing of this
violence, nor make any search after those who are concerned in it."
"For that we care nothing," said the voice. "Thou hast an example how
well thou mayst catch mischief on thy own part; but we are in case to
defy thee. Rise, and begone!"
The foot, the sword's-point, were withdrawn, and Everard was about to
start up hastily, when the voice, in the same softness of tone which
distinguished it at first, said, "No haste - cold and bare steel is yet
around thee. Now - now - now - (the words dying away as at a distance) -
thou art free. Be secret and be safe."
Markham Everard arose, and, in rising, embarrassed his feet with his own
sword, which he had dropped when springing forward, as he supposed, to
lay hold of his fair cousin. He snatched it up in haste, and as his hand
clasped the hilt, his courage, which had given way under the
apprehension of instant death, began to return; he considered, with
almost his usual composure, what was to be done next. Deeply affronted
at the disgrace which he had sustained, he questioned for an instant
whether he ought to keep his extorted promise, or should not rather
summon assistance, and make haste to discover and seize those who had
been recently engaged in such violence on his person. But these persons,
be they who they would, had had his life in their power - he had pledged
his word in ransom of it - and what was more, he could not divest himself
of the idea that his beloved Alice was a confidant, at least, if not an
actor, in the confederacy which had thus baffled him. This prepossession
determined his conduct; for, though angry at supposing she must have
been accessory to his personal ill-treatment, he could not in any event
think of an instant search through the mansion, which might have
compromised her safety, or that of his uncle. "But I will to the hut,"
he said - "I will instantly to the hut, ascertain her share in this wild
and dangerous confederacy, and snatch her from ruin, if it be possible."
As, under the influence of the resolution which he had formed, Everard
groped his way through the gallery and regained the vestibule, he heard
his name called by the well-known voice of Wildrake. "What - ho! -
holloa! - Colonel Everard - Mark Everard - it is dark as the devil's
mouth - speak - where are you? - The witches are keeping their hellish
sabbath here, as I think. - Where are you?"
"Here, here!" answered Everard. "Cease your bawling. Turn to the left,
and you will meet me."
Guided by his voice, Wildrake soon appeared, with a light in one hand,
and his drawn sword in the other. "Where have you been?" he said - "What
has detained you? - Here are Bletson and the brute Desborough terrified
out of their lives, and Harrison raving mad, because the devil will not
be civil enough to rise to fight him in single _duello_."
"Saw or heard you nothing as you came along?" said Everard.
"Nothing," said his friend, "excepting that when I first entered this
cursed ruinous labyrinth, the light was struck out of my hand, as if by
a switch, which obliged me to return for another."
"I must come by a horse instantly, Wildrake, and another for thyself, if
it be possible."
"We can take two of those belonging to the troopers," answered Wildrake.
"But for what purpose should we run away, like rats, at this time in the
evening? - Is the house falling?"
"I cannot answer you," said the Colonel, pushing forward into a room
where there were some remains of furniture.
Here the cavalier took a more strict view of his person, and exclaimed
in wonder, "What the devil have you been fighting with, Markham, that
has bedizened you after this sorry fashion?"
"Fighting!" exclaimed Everard.
"Yes," replied his trusty attendant. "I say fighting. Look at yourself
in the mirror."
He did, and saw he was covered with dust and blood. The latter proceeded
from a scratch which he had received in the throat, as he struggled to
extricate himself. With unaffected alarm, Wildrake undid his friend's
collar, and with eager haste proceeded to examine the wound, his hands
trembling, and his eyes glistening with apprehension for his
benefactor's life. When, in spite of Everard's opposition, he had
examined the hurt, and found it trifling, he resumed the natural
wildness of his character, perhaps the more readily that he had felt
shame in departing from it, into one which expressed more of feeling
than he would be thought to possess.
"If that be the devil's work, Mark," said he, "the foul fiend's claws
are not nigh so formidable as they are represented; but no one shall say
that your blood has been shed unrevenged, while Roger Wildrake was by
your side. Where left you this same imp? I will back to the field of
fight, confront him with my rapier, and were his nails tenpenny nails,
and his teeth as long as those of a harrow, he shall render me reason
for the injury he has done you."
"Madness - madness!" exclaimed Everard; "I had this trifling hurt by a
fall - a basin and towel will wipe it away. Meanwhile, if you will ever
do me kindness, get the troop-horses - command them for the service of
the public, in the name of his Excellency the General. I will but wash,
and join you in an instant before the gate."
"Well, I will serve you, Everard, as a mute serves the Grand Signior,
without knowing why or wherefore. But will you go without seeing these
people below?"
"Without seeing any one," said Everard; "lose no time, for God's sake."
He found out the non-commissioned officer, and demanded the horses in a
tone of authority, to which the corporal yielded undisputed obedience,
as one well aware of Colonel Everard's military rank and consequence. So
all was in a minute or two ready for the expedition.
* * * * *
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH.
She kneeled, and saintlike
Cast her eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
KING HENRY VIII.
Colonel Everard's departure at the late hour, for, so it was then
thought, of seven in the evening, excited much speculation. There was a
gathering of menials and dependents in the outer chamber or hall, for no
one doubted that his sudden departure was owing to his having, as they
expressed it, "seen something," and all desired to know how a man of
such acknowledged courage as Everard, looked under the awe of a recent
apparition. But he gave them no time to make comments; for, striding
through the hall wrapt in his riding suit, he threw himself on
horseback, and rode furiously through the Chase, towards the hut of the
keeper Joliffe.
It was the disposition of Markham Everard to be hot, keen, earnest,
impatient, and decisive to a degree of precipitation. The acquired
habits which education had taught, and which the strong moral and
religious discipline of his sect had greatly strengthened, were such as
to enable him to conceal, as well as to check, this constitutional
violence, and to place him upon his guard against indulging it. But when
in the high tide of violent excitation, the natural impetuosity of the
young soldier's temper was sometimes apt to overcome these artificial
obstacles, and then, like a torrent foaming over a wear, it became more
furious, as if in revenge for the constrained calm which it had been for
some time obliged to assume. In these instances he was accustomed to see
only that point to which his thoughts were bent, and to move straight
towards it, whether a moral object, or the storming of a breach, without
either calculating, or even appearing to see, the difficulties which
were before him.