The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Moyle Sherer

  CHAP. XIII.

  What man was he talked with you? _Much Ado about Nothing._

  It was not till the crisis of danger was already past that the illnessof Katharine became known at Bolton Grange, or at Old Beech.

  Jane Lambert was no sooner apprised of it than she hastened to herfriend, and insisted, with all the devotion and tenderness of asister, on being permitted to divide with Mistress Alice the duties ofher present charge.

  Katharine loved Jane, and was comforted to have her seated near her,and was soothed by her affection: it was evident, however, to thelatter, that something weighed heavily upon the spirits of her friend,and that the feelings of hope and the clear promise of recovery, didnot impart to her all the gratitude and cheerfulness which might benaturally expected in the pleasant dawn of convalescence.

  She had not been many days at Milverton when an incident occurredwhich discovered the cause of her anxiety.

  As Jane was looking from the window in the afternoon, and remarking toKatharine on the beautiful effect of the low autumn lights, sheobserved the figure of a man with folded arms leaning near a tree inthe beechery, and she playfully exclaimed, "That must certainly be themusical ghost, which played so sweetly, and brought us all such badluck, and frightened every body in Milverton House but your dear self,and the grave Master Cuthbert:--how I should like to have thetreacherous creature caught."

  "Dear lady," said Katharine's maid, "how can you talk so boldly?--whynobody can catch a spirit. It is only air."

  "I have a notion, good lass," replied Jane, "that it is very properflesh and blood, and if I were a man, and not a maid, would try myspeed with it, and bring it to parley. I should like to hear thevoice of it, or see its face, and tell it of all the mischief it hasdone."

  "Well-a-day! what a heart you have, lady! There is not one in thekitchen but stout Richard would venture that; and though he could notfind any thing the other day when he followed it, he's obstinate as amule, and says it's no ghost, but a young gallant that's under hidingat my mother's, in Warwick Liberties; but there is nobody thinks withhim at Milverton."

  "Well, then, I am of Richard's way of thinking, in part:--it is a tallman; but whether young, and whether under hiding, I know not."

  "Why, there is a gentleman under hiding at my mother's, sure enough,and one that knows my lady, as she says, and was quite glad when heheard that she first began to mend."

  "Ruth," said Katharine, raising her head from the pillow, "if you willgo and make me some fresh barley water, I think I shall like it betterthan this fever drink." The wish was no sooner expressed than her maidvanished to do her bidding, and Katharine and her friend Jane wereleft by themselves.

  "Jane," said the invalid, "come and sit by me: I have something totell you, and I have to ask of you a very strange favour. I desired torelieve my heart of its burden, but have hitherto delayed it. Youknow, Jane, that I love you, and that I have confidence in yourattachment to me; but if it were not for my present helplessness,which compels me to engage your service as a true friend, whose goodsense and firm principles I can safely trust, the subject which I amabout to speak of would never have passed my lips even to you. Thegentleman of whom they speak is my cousin Francis. He it was who soperplexed and alarmed the family with his mysterious music, and whostill, I fear, haunts the same spot in silence and anxiety."

  "Your cousin Francis!--why, dear Kate, I thought he was in America!"

  "And I myself thought so until the night when he made his return knownto me in tones which I could not mistake, and the meaning of which Ibut too well understood."

  "I have been long aware, Katharine, that he loved you."

  "You have, I believe, already discerned it. Alas! it is true--fatallyfor his own happiness and for mine;--but, Jane, have you courage forthe task which I would impose upon you?"

  "Yes, Kate: you can ask me nothing too hard for me, if I can only feelthat I do what may comfort you."

  "Well, Jane, you must contrive to see my cousin Francis; to deliver tohim a note from me with your own hands, and to urge his immediatedeparture from this neighbourhood. Now, love, bring me those smalltablets and paper, and support me while I write the few words which Iwould say."

  It was a sight for pity to see that noble damsel, her back propped bypillows, and the arm of her young friend tenderly supporting her,trace in silence and with a nervous hand the few lines which were tobanish from the neighbourhood of Milverton her worthy and devotedlover.

  The task was soon done; and with the care as of a mother Jane Lambertagain arranged the pillows for the aching head of Katharine; and thepale sufferer sunk back exhausted into the recumbent posture, andheaved a sigh so sad, that the eyes of Jane filled with thick tears.She averted her head to wipe them away, that they might not distressher friend, and putting the unsealed billet in her bosom, left thechamber with a thoughtful step, to do her very delicate and difficultoffice. She went to her own room, and taking a dark mantle with ahood, such as was the common church-going and street costume of womenof the respectable middle classes of that period, she threw it acrossher arm, and walked through the Lime Walk, and by the fish ponds, to asmall gate at the farther end of the grounds, by which she could gaina footpath that led across the fields to Warwick. She had no soonerpassed the gate than she put on her cloak, and passing the hood overher head, that she might muffle and conceal her features, if she metany one, she proceeded towards the city. It was about four o'clock inthe afternoon, and the sky was lowering and cloudy. She was anxiousabout her strange mission, and settling in her mind what she should dowhen she reached the hostelry, whither she was now bending her steps,and how she should contrive the interview with Francis, when the soundof steps very closely following suddenly startled her: the very objectof her search had overtaken her, and was already at her side. Atfirst, however, she was not aware of this, although the circumstanceof this passenger being muffled, as closely as herself, awakened hersuspicions of the truth, and forbade the alarm she would otherwisehave felt at finding herself in a very lonely part of the pathway insuch company. He did not stop when he overtook her, but went a fewsteps onward, as if to re-assure her before he ventured to speak. Hecrossed a stile and walked some paces without turning his head, tillshe had also crossed it; when loitering a little, till she was closeto him, he stepped aside from the path, and gently put a question thatvery directly introduced them to each other, and gave Jane the readyopportunity of delivering her note, and fulfilling the further wishesof her dear Katharine.

  "You are from Milverton House, as I think, damsel?"

  "Even so, master," replied Jane.

  "Is the noble young mistress better to-day?"

  "I thank God she is; but it will be long ere she be quite well again."

  "She is out of all pain, I hope?"

  "Yes, she hath no bodily pain, save that which arises from weakness;and for such pain of mind as disquiets her it may be, in great part,removed by yourself, Master Francis."

  Thus saying, she threw back her hood, and Francis, who had beforediscovered his own features, recognised those of Jane Lambert. "I bearyou a note from your cousin Katharine," she added, as he started ather utterance of his name. She drew it forth from her bosom, andplaced it in his hand. He turned from her that he might read itwithout observation; but Jane could see by his action that he kissedit, and pressed it to his heart. With a glance it was perused, andthen again and again; and with a bent head and staggering step hemoved a few paces from Jane, and spoke in tones of anguish to himselfwords which she could not distinguish. At last, collecting himself, hereturned towards the fair messenger of his Katharine, with a manlycomposure, and said, "Tell my beloved cousin that I will obey; thather wish is as a law to me: how could she dream that I would sufferthe words of any one to outweigh her own?--but, she tells me that youare her devoted and faithful friend, and that to you I may safelyintrust the object of my return, and the news of my father. There is,indeed, one subject on which she forbids me to speak even to herse
lf;therefore my answer may be brief enough. My father is well:--all herkinsfolk in the Plantations are well, and free, and happy. For theobject of my sudden return--it is the love of my country--a love thatwill not accept a divided heart; and yet the other love that layenshrined beside it, was pure, was noble, was worthy such alliance,has filled my thoughts by day, has blessed the visions of my lonelynights. Tell Katharine she hath used me hardly--no, no, do not tellher that--not hardly--say that she bids me do something I cannot do--Iam not of her order--forget her I never can--she is with me wherever Igo--in all things that I do I think of her--and still must, if Iwould have fair and noble thoughts to bear me company."

  "Such things, Master Francis, I may not carry to her ear. There isabout her a reserve so maidenly and grave, she would chide her ownmessenger for proving so unfaithful;--but I may tell her that yourfather is well; that loyalty hath brought you home; and that you willquit these parts instantly--for that it is, methinks, she mostearnestly requests of you."

  "Even so: on that she is most urgent--cruel Katharine."

  "Say, rather, wise, dutiful, loyal Katharine."

  "Loyal, loyal!--that is a word of many imports. I, too, am loyal, andwill learn to love the word:--mind you tell her that I am loyal."

  "Can I truly tell her so?"

  "Yes, truly:--but enough of this, fair girl,--go back to her who sentthee--wait, you are her friend--you nurse her--come, let me look intothine eyes--give me thy hand--on my knees I kiss it--her cheek ispale--I know it is--it must be--go touch it with thy hand, and offerthere the chaste cold homage of my sorrow. You see that I am sad,lady--go--bless you--you are weeping:--how is this, girl?--be not sochildish--a friend of Katharine's should not be weak--I, you see, amcalm and strong--my hand does not tremble--and these eyes aredry--methinks my heart is frozen--tell her so."

  Jane Lambert stood fixed as a statue while he thus spoke; and as shewatched him walking fast away, she felt, for the first time in herlife, what it must be to have a lover, and to be the supreme object ofsuch a man's affection. Her cheek was stained with tears--her faceflushed with agitation--her whole air disordered and absent. Shefollowed with her eyes the tall figure of Francis, till a turn in thepathway hid him from her view, and then walked slowly back toMilverton.

  In the very first field she met George Juxon, and it was evident toher, from his manner, as he stopped and spoke to her, that he musthave witnessed, at least, the close of her interview with Francis.There was a surprise in his look, and something of embarrassment, ashe shook her by the hand, and asked if she was well; but he did notseem to expect any particular reply, nor indeed did he offer to returnwith her to the house, though she was but too conscious that herfaintness and discomposure might have naturally invited such anattention. Observing, coldly, that he had some business at a builder'syard in Warwick, but that he should return to sup and sleep atMilverton, he leisurely pursued his path to the city.

  Jane's heart gave way to the multitude of troublous and perplexingthoughts which now beset her; and leaning near a friendly tree, shefound a momentary relief in a passionate flood of warm tears.

  Her trial was strange. The feelings which had been excited werealtogether new to her; and the effect of the interview withKatharine's devoted cousin, combined with the cross and perplexingincident of her meeting with Juxon so immediately after, as to make itcertain that he had seen her part from Francis Heywood, had verynaturally overcome the ordinary courage and the cheerful composure ofher character.

  She had witnessed, in the agitated Francis, the emotions of love. Thesentiment, which thus shook him, she had never yet inspired--she hadnever felt for any one. Such love had been to her the poet's fable;but it would never again be so deemed of by her;--and something thatmade her heart throb and ache within her told truly the want of thatheart, and unsealed a fountain of affection ready to overflow upon anybeing in whom she might be fortunate enough to find the noblequalities of a manly heart, and the gentle ways and genuine fervoursof an ardent lover.

  It was a cruel thought that she must now be subject to suspicions, ifnot of lightness, yet of a secret attachment and stolen interviewswith the object of it. Nor was the oppression of this thought at allweakened by the reflection that George Juxon, the very man whose goodopinion she most valued, had seen her in a situation, and undercircumstances, which he could not by any possibility interpret truly,and which her duty to Katharine forbade her to explain, howeverdeeply her own character or happiness might suffer. In one short hourshe had gathered an experience that filled her with wonder, and hadincurred a suspicion that subjected her to censure and threatened herwith misery. The consciousness of innocence could not restore to herthe respect of Juxon, nor exempt her from the severe penalties withwhich the levity and imprudence of the thoughtless of her own sex areever silently visited by the other, when some painful discovery of awoman's guile chills and revolts them.

  However in her case, the judgment of Juxon had not been harsh; but, ofcourse, when he saw a man upon his knees before her--when heconsidered the loneliness of their place of interview--the cloaksevidently worn for disguise--and the agitated and discomposedappearance of Jane Lambert--he, at once, decided that she wasbetrothed to a lover, whom for fear or for shame she dared not openlyavow.

  He had truly liked Jane, for her spirit, her sense, and, above all,for her devotion to Katharine Heywood; and his liking might soon havegrown to a manly love,--but the flow of his admiration was nowsuddenly checked and frozen, and he whistled "Woman's a Riddle" allthe way to Warwick and back again.