by Anonymous
CHAPTER XI.
It was the eighth hour of the morning before Bernard arrived atLantwell. Though his horse was jaded, he did not draw up beforehis own house, but proceeded, at a pretty brisk canter, to theupper end of the village. There, a short distance from thechurch, he came to a small cottage, similar to his own, beforewhich he reined up, and alighted.
“So ho, there!” he cried, knocking at the door. “Gaffer Peters!So ho!”
“Anon! anon!” cried a voice within.
Several minutes intervened, however, before the door wasopened. A short, stout man, about the middle age, then made hisappearance, and, discerning Bernard, hastily stepped out to theroad.
“Give thee good morrow, fair master!” he cried. “What hath gonewrong?”
“Never thou heed what, Master Headborough!” replied Bernard; “butdon thy cap, and mount thee up behind me.”
“But the law, Master Gray--the law of the matter?” inquired theconstable. “Look you, an’ it be a simple matter of robbery, thoumust needs have a warrant, as I take it, ere thou mayst take thethief.”
“Wilt thou come?” demanded Bernard.
“Prithee, be advised as to the law,” urged the constable. “Wehave adjudged in the instance of robbery. Now, look you, if it bea matter of battery by assault”--
“’Tis neither robbery nor assault,” cried Bernard. “’Tisan offence against the state; and if thou don not thy capincontinently, I must even take thee without it.”
“Go to!” remonstrated the constable. “An’ it were but robbery andbattery, the law, as thou sayest, were easy enough; but”--
He was still speaking, when, overcome with impatience, Bernardcaught him up in his arms, and threw him, perforce, across theshoulders of his horse.
“Go to, thou!” he cried. “Settle thee afore the saddle, or, whilethou pratest here, the offender will escape. Thou hadst better behanged than that should be!”
The tone of his voice, and the dread which, in common with allhis neighbours, he entertained of Bernard’s character, reducedthe loquacious constable to immediate obedience, and, withoutfurther parley, he disposed himself in the manner directed.Bernard sprang up behind him, and then, seizing the bridle,clapped spurs to his horse, and set forward for Neville Grange.
By the carriage-road, which was circuitous, the distance wasconsiderable, and occupied him nearly an hour. Ultimately,however, he got over it, and, spurring through the gateway, andup the adjoining avenue, reined up before the hall-door.
The tramp of the horse’s feet, which the hard, dry road carriedsome distance, quickly brought out several of the servants, and,among them, old Adam Green. That person, to the surprise of theothers, recognised Bernard as an acquaintance, and hastened tosalute him.
“Are they wedded yet, Master Adam?” asked Bernard, on hisapproach.
“’Tis now in course,” answered Adam.
Bernard alighted at a bound.
“Down with thee, thou loon!” he cried to the astonishedconstable, seizing him by the arm:--“down, I say!”
There was no use in resisting, and the constable, maugre thedignity and state of his office, was obliged to give way, anddescend to the ground.
“Now, Master Adam, lead us to them!” said Bernard.
“For her sake, I will!” answered Adam. “Follow!”
He turned towards the hall-door; and Bernard, and the constable,grasped by Bernard’s hand, followed in his wake. Entering thehall, he passed up the contiguous stairs, and led the way to thechapel.
On arriving at the chapel-door, Bernard, who now came first,tried to open it, but found that it was secured within. Hethen inflicted on it that summons which, as was set forth ina preceding chapter, called Sir Edgar to a parley, and soopportunely interrupted the progressing marriage.
His demand to be admitted in the name of the Queen, couched inthe terms already recorded, raised in the breasts of the severalinmates the wildest and most conflicting feelings. Sir Edgar,however, being unconscious of having transgressed the law, wouldhave opened the door without hesitation; but, as he placed hishand on the bolt, the priest called to him to forbear.
“Let me first don my cloak and peruke,” the priest said, drawingthose articles of disguise from behind the altar. “My hour is notyet come.”
Though he appeared to be palsied with fear, he lost no time,after he had caught the cloak and wig up, in donning hisdisguise, and quickly set it in order.
“Now,” he said to Sir Edgar, as he quitted the suspiciousvicinity of the altar, and sprang into the middle of the chapel,“thou mayst admit them.”
Sir Edgar withdrew the bolt, and, stepping back a pace, the doorwas pushed open. The next moment, Bernard, and Master Peters, theconstable, with Adam Green, passed into the chapel.
Bernard’s eye swept round the chapel at a glance. But on the faceof Evaline, who was standing right before him, a pace or tworemoved from the door, it came to a pause, and seemed to dive toher very heart. It needed little penetration, when thus viewingher features, to see how her heart was moved, and how completelyit had given itself over to despair. Even shame could not shakethat despair; and though, it is true, she could not endure tomeet and answer his glance, and had turned her eyes on the floor,her complexion displayed no shade of confusion, but continuedlocked in impenetrable pallor.
Bernard’s bosom swelled as he gazed upon her, and his manlyfeatures, which had just before been flushed with rage, assumed asofter expression, and beamed with tenderness and sympathy.
“Which of ye hath done this?” he cried, pointing at Evaline.
Don Felix, who had hitherto been perfectly passive, here steppedforward a pace, and interposed.
“By what right, Sir, dost thou ask?” he demanded. “Nay, by whatright art thou here at all?”
“Hold thee quiet, Sir Spaniard!” answered Bernard. “I couldapprove my right, an’ it so contented me, out of hand, and on noother person than thine own.”
Don Felix started.
“Whoever thou mayst be,” cried Sir Edgar, stepping in to hiskinsman’s rescue, “it is but meet”--
“Give me leave a while,” interrupted Bernard. “’Tis with thee Iwould speak, Mistress de Neville. I ask thee here, afore God andman, is this marriage to proceed?”
He paused for a reply; but Evaline, whether she was sensible ofwhat he said, or not, was silent as marble.
“Is the marriage to proceed, mistress?” repeated Bernard.
Evaline, without lifting her eyes from the floor, sank on herknees before him, and raised her clasped hands in the air.
“I am a poor, lost maid!” she said, in a hollow voice.
“Enough!” exclaimed Bernard.
Without a word more, he pushed past her, and turned towards thepriest. On coming up with him, he first glanced earnestly in hisface; and then, as if assured that he was not mistaken, extendedhis hand, and slapped him lustily on his shoulder.
“John Paul,” he said, “I attach thee, as a seminary priest, ofhigh treason! Master Headborough do thine office!”
A dead silence followed the utterance of these words, and theawful fate with which they threatened the priest, and which wasno less than an ignominious death, seemed to strike each of theauditors with dejection and terror. But the silence was of briefduration. The priest then, as if all resolution had failed him,fell on his knees, and raised his hands in supplication.
“Oh, spare me!” he cried, with chattering teeth. “I did it fromno harm, but for the love of God. The spirit which moved methereto is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
“Thou shouldst have thought of that afore,” said Bernard. “Thouhast come hither, at thine own peril, to war against our anointedQueen, and thou must abide by the issue.”
As he thus delivered himself, a cry of agony, which made hisheart thrill again, broke on his ear. Turning round, he perceived(what his fears had led him to anticipate) that it had proceededfrom Evaline, who was now stretched senseless on the floor.
Sir Edgar and D
on Felix, who were only a pace or two distant,quickly sprang to the assistance of the forlorn girl, as didMartha also. Lifting her up, they discovered that she hadswooned.
“Let us bear her to her chamber,” said Sir Edgar. “If she recoverhere, the scene may shock her again.”
Accordingly, they caught her in their arms, and, without furtherspeech, raised her up between them, and bore her from the chapel.Adam Green, who had assisted them to raise her, was about tofollow them, when Bernard called him back.
“Master Adam,” said Bernard, with a significant look, “hastthou never a cup of liquor, in this noble mansion, for MasterHeadborough here. Prithee, an’ thou lovest me, take him to thylarder, and let him refresh awhile.”
“A right excellent instance,” remarked the constable. “The lawstands, sirs”--
“Come thou with me,” interposed Adam.
The constable, seeing in the “instance” the promise of a cup ofliquor, to which even law might be considered a secondary matter,readily agreed, and suffered Adam to lead him forth. When theyhad passed out, Bernard appeared to muse a moment, and then,arousing himself, glanced anxiously round the chapel.
His eye, after it had once swept round, rested on a large window,immediately behind the altar. As he regarded it closely, hediscerned that, in the centre, on the main bar of the frame,there was a small asp, or brace, by withdrawing which the windowcould be opened. When he perceived this, he stepped up to thewindow, and surveyed it more accurately. The result, to his greatsatisfaction, confirmed his expectations; and on raising his handto the asp, he was able to throw the window open, and look out.His _reconnoissance_, though it was brief, evidently afforded himconsiderable pleasure, and he turned away from the window with abright smile.
Meantime, the priest, thinking that his fate was decided, laytrembling on the floor, quite speechless with despair. Bernard’seye fell upon him as he turned round; but he had no opportunity,if he had been even inclined, to contemplate him long; for justas his glance dropped upon him, a slight knock called him to thechapel-door.
Hastily drawing the door open, he found, as he had expected, thatthe person without was Adam Green.
“I have bestowed away the constable,” whispered Adam. “Whatwouldst thou further?”
“Hast thou ever a horse for the priest here?” answered Bernard.
“His own is i’ the stable,” replied Adam.
“Saddle it quick, then,” said Bernard; “and leave it under thechapel-window.”
“Our Lady reward thee!” returned Adam. “I will do ’t.”
He entered on the task thereupon. In about a quarter of an hour,he returned, and informed Bernard, who had waited for him in thepassage, that the horse was bestowed according to his directions.
“Then go thou now, and bring me word how it fares with thymistress,” said Bernard. “Meantime, I will start the priest.”
Without a word more, he broke away, and passed into the chapel.The priest, though still prostrate, looked up as he entered, andBernard beckoned him to rise.
“Come to the window a space,” he said, “and I will show theesomewhat.”
The priest, trembling with fear, raised himself up, and followedhim to the window. It was still open, and, through the aperture,he descried, at a little distance, on a contiguous lawn, his ownhorse, saddled for service.
“Is that thy horse?” asked Bernard.
“It is,” faltered the priest.
“I’faith, thou couldst almost mount him from here,” saidBernard. “In a matter of life and death, a man could leap twentyfeet, methinks, any day.”
“Would I might do it!” cried the priest.
He raised his eyes as he spoke, and glanced imploringly inBernard’s face.
“Thou shouldst understand the Word,” said Bernard; “and ’tis nowafore thee:--‘And Michal told David, saying, “If thou save notthy life to-night, to-morrow thou shalt be slain.” So Michal letDavid down through a window; and he went and fled and escaped.’”
A light flashed across the mind of the priest, and, as Bernardturned towards the door, his despair subsided.
Whatever might be Bernard’s meaning, he passed straight out, andclosed the chapel-door behind him. He found Adam Green in thepassage.
“How is it with Mistress Evaline?” he asked.
“She hath recovered,” answered Adam.
“Then, prithee, go tell her suitor, Don Felix, I would speakwith him awhile,” said Bernard. “But, hold! here comes MasterHeadborough.”
The constable, having regaled himself to his heart’s content, wasindeed in view, and shortly came up with them.
“Soh, Master Headborough!” Bernard then cried, “thou hast beenrefreshing with a witness! Is ’t thus thou requitest my care ofthee? But no more words! Let us now look to our charge!”
Here he pushed back the door, and, followed by the constable andAdam, passed into the chapel.
“Soh! what’s here?” he cried.
The window was open, and the priest, whom they were about toremove to prison, had escaped.
