Pelham — Complete
Page 6
CHAPTER VI.
Why sleeps he not, when others are at rest?--Byron.
According to the explanation I had received, the road I was now topursue was somewhat longer, but much better, than that which I generallytook. It was to lead me home through the churchyard of--, the same, bythe by, which Lord Vincent had particularized in his anecdote of themysterious stranger. The night was clear, but windy: there were a fewlight clouds passing rapidly over the moon, which was at her full,and shone through the frosty air, with all that cold and transparentbrightness so peculiar to our northern winters. I walked briskly on tillI came to the churchyard; I could not then help pausing (notwithstandingmy total deficiency in all romance) to look for a few moments at theexceeding beauty of the scene around me. The church itself was extremelyold, and stood alone and grey, in the rude simplicity of the earliestform of gothic architecture: two large dark yew-trees drooped on eachside over tombs, which from their size and decorations, appeared to bethe last possession of some quondam lords of the soil. To the left, theground was skirted by a thick and luxuriant copse of evergreens, in thefront of which stood one tall, naked oak, stern and leafless, a verytoken of desolation and decay; there were but few grave stones scatteredabout, and these were, for the most part, hidden by the long wild grasswhich wreathed and climbed round them. Over all, the blue skies andstill moon shed that solemn light, the effect of which, either on thescene or the feelings, it is so impossible to describe.
I was just about to renew my walk, when a tall, dark figure, wrapped up,like myself, in a large French cloak, passed slowly along from the otherside of the church, and paused by the copse I have before mentioned. Iwas shrouded at that moment from his sight by one of the yew trees;he stood still only for a few moments; he then flung himself upon theearth, and sobbed, audibly even at the spot where I was standing. I wasin doubt whether to wait longer or to proceed; my way lay just by him,and it might be dangerous to interrupt so substantial an apparition.However, my curiosity was excited, and my feet were half frozen, twocogent reasons for proceeding; and, to say truth, I was never very muchfrightened by any thing dead or alive.
Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly onwards. I hadnot got above three paces before the figure rose, and stood erect andmotionless before me. His hat had fallen off, and the moon shone fullupon his countenance; it was not the wild expression of intense anguishwhich dwelt on those hueless and sunken features; nor their quick changeto ferocity and defiance, as his eyes fell upon me, which made me startback and feel my heart stand still! Notwithstanding the fearful ravagesgraven in that countenance, then so brilliant with the graces ofboyhood, I recognized, at one glance, those still noble and chiselledfeatures. It was Reginald Glanville who stood before me! I recoveredmyself instantly; I threw myself towards him, and called him by hisname. He turned hastily; but I would not suffer him to escape; I put myhand upon his arm, and drew him towards me. "Glanville!" I exclaimed,"it is I! it is your old--old friend, Henry Pelham. Good God! have I metyou at last, and in such a scene?"
Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered his face with hishands, and sunk down with one wild cry, which went fearfully throughthat still place, upon the spot from which he had but just risen. Iknelt beside him; I took his hand; I spoke to him in every endearingterm that I could think of; and roused and excited as my feelingswere, by so strange and sudden a meeting, I felt my tears involuntarilyfalling over the hand which I held in my own. Glanville turned; helooked at me for one moment, as if fully to recognize me: and thenthrowing himself in my arms, wept like a child.
It was but for a few minutes that this weakness lasted; he rosesuddenly--the whole expression of his countenance was changed--thetears still rolled in large drops down his cheeks, but the proud, sterncharacter which the features had assumed, seemed to deny the feelingswhich that feminine weakness had betrayed.
"Pelham," he said, "you have seen me thus; I had hoped that no livingeye would--this is the last time in which I shall indulge this folly.God bless you--we shall meet again--and this night shall then seem toyou like a dream."
I would have answered, but he turned swiftly, passed in one momentthrough the copse, and in the next had utterly disappeared.