Arrah Neil; or, Times of Old

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XII.

  In a remote part of the country--for England had then remote parts andlonely, which are now broad and open to the busy world--rode along, alittle before nightfall, a small party of about ten persons. Theweather was clear and mild; but there was in the evening light and inthe autumnal hues that touch of melancholy which always accompaniesthe passing away of anything that is bright, whether it be a summer'sday or a fair season, a joy or a hope.

  The country was flat and unbroken; but, nevertheless, the eye had noscope to roam, for tall, gloomy-looking rows of trees flanked thenarrow road on either side, and many similar lines divided the plaininto small fields, which they shaded from the sun, except when hetowered at his highest noon. A river some five or six yards across,slow almost to stagnation, crept along at the side of the lane, withthe current just perceptible in the middle, where the water seemedbright and limpid enough; but farther towards the side, the thickweeds were seen rising from the bottom and spreading over the surface,till at the very edge they became tangled into an impenetrable greenmass, fringed with flags and rushes. Over the clearer part of thestream darted the busy water-spider, and whirling in the air abovewere myriads of gnats, rising with their irritating hum in tallcolumns, like the sands of the desert when lifted up by the whirlwind.The light was grey and solemn, and one needed to look to the sky tosee that the sun had not actually set.

  After riding along this road for the distance of about a mile, a largestone, somewhat like a gravestone, appeared on the side opposite tothe water; and one of the horsemen, having dismounted to examine whatinscription it bore deciphered, amongst the moss and lichens thatcovered it, the following agreeable intelligence:--"Here, in the yearof grace 1613, and on the 19th day of the month of November, MatthewPeters was murdered by his eldest son, Thomas, who was executed forthe same on the 10th of the month of December next ensuing, in thetown of Hull, the worshipful John Slackman, mayor. Reader, takewarning by his fate. Go and do not likewise."

  If the party was sad before, this mememto of crime and suffering didnot tend to make it merrier: the horseman mounted his horse again, andthey rode on in silence for another mile and a half, when, at thedistance of about a hundred yards from the road, which, though it wasstill seen proceeding in a straight line till it lost itself in theshadows, seemed to lead nowhere, so dull and desolate did it look,there appeared a large shady building, to the stone-paved fore-court,of which the river formed a sort of moat.

  First came a square tower of red brick, edged with stone which hadonce been white, but now was green; then followed a dull, low wall,probably that of some long corridor, for a slated roof hung over it,and two narrow windows gave the interior a certain portion of light.This was succeeded by a large centre, or _corps de logis_, flat andformal, solemn and unresponding, with similar small windows, and avast deep doorway. Another long low line of brickwork came after, andthen another square tower, and then another mass of brickwork,differing from the former in size and shape, but retaining the samestyle, and displaying the same melancholy aspect. No ivy grew uparound it to break the lines and angles. Not a tree was before it totake off its dull formality. All was heavy, and vast, and grave; andto look upon it one could hardly convince one's self, not that it wasinhabited, but that it had been cheered by the warm presence of humanlife for years. No sound was heard, no moving thing was seen, exceptwhen one raised one's eyes in search of chimneys, and there one or twotall columns of smoke rose slowly and seriously towards the sky, as ifthey had made a covenant with the wind not to disturb their quiet andupright course.

  Over the water from the stone court that we have mentioned swung adrawbridge, which was half elevated, being hooked up by one of thelinks of the thick chain that suspended it to the posts on the otherside; and here one of the men of the party, for it consisted of bothmen and women, pulled in his horse, saying--

  "This is Langley Hall, my lord."

  "I know," answered Lord Walton, with a sigh. "It is long since I havebeen here, but I remember it. We see it at an unfavourable hour, dearAnnie, It looks more cheerful the full light."

  "Oh! that matters not, Charles," answered Miss Walton, in a gentletone; "sunshine and shade are within the heart more than without; andI shall find it gay or sad as those I love fare well or ill."

  "How shall we get in?" asked Lord Walton; "the drawbridge is half up."

  "Oh! there is the bell behind the posts," replied the man who hadfirst spoken; and, dismounting, he pulled a rope, which produced aloud but heavy sound, more like the great bell of a church than thatof an ordinary mansion.

  Some three or four minutes elapsed without any one appearing to answerthis noisy summons; but at length an old white-headed man came out,and asked cautiously, before he let down the bridge, Who was there?

  "It is Lord Walton and his sister," answered the young nobleman; "letdown the bridge, good man. Lady Margaret expects us."

  "Oh! I know that, I know that," rejoined the old servant; but still,instead of obeying the directions he received, he retrod his stepsslowly towards the house. His conduct was soon explained by hiscalling aloud--"William! William! come and help here! The bridge istoo much for one, and here is the young lord and a whole host ofpeople, men, women, and children. Perhaps it is not the young lordafter all. He was a curly-pated boy when last I saw him, and thislooks like a colonel of horse."

  "Time! time! Master Dixon; time may make us all Colonels of horse,"answered a brisk-looking youth in a tight doublet, which set off hissturdy limbs to good advantage, as he strode forward to the old man'sassistance.

  "Time is a strange changer of curly hair. Doubtless your good damepatted your head some years agone, and tailed you her pretty boy; andnow, if she were to see you, the mother would not know her son, butwould call you uncle or grandpapa."

  "And so I was a pretty boy--that is very true," answered the old man,coming forward again towards the bridge, well pleased with ancientmemories; "and my mother did often pat my head--Lord! I remember it asif it were but yesterday."

  "Ah! but you have seen a good many yesterdays since then, MasterDixon," rejoined the young man, following to the edge of the river,with the wise air of self-satisfied youth. "Now, Master Dixon, youunhook while I pull;" and, as the bridge was slowly let down, headded, "Give you good even, my lord. You are welcome to Langley. Goodeven, lady. You are welcome, too, and so are all these pretty dames.My lady will be right glad to see you all."

  His words were cheerful, and there is something very reassuring in thegay tones of the human voice. They seem, in the hour of despondencyand gloom, to assure us that all is not sadness in the world; thatthere is truly such a thing as hope; that there are moments ofenjoyment, and that the heart is not altogether forbidden to behappy--all matters of which we entertain many doubts when the cloud ofsorrow first falls upon us, and hides the brighter things of life fromour eyes.

  How often is it that the reality belies the outside appearance--if notalways, at least generally. In dealing with all things, moral andphysical, man deceives himself and is deceived, and never can tell thecore by the rind. These are truisms, reader; very trite, very oftenrepeated. I know it; I write them as such: but do you act upon them?or you? or you? Where is the man that does? And if there be a man,where is the woman? The demagogue is judged by his words, the preacherby his sermon, the statesman by his eloquence, the lover by his looks.All seeming--nothing but seeming; and it is not till we come to tastethe fruit that we learn the real flavour.

  All had seemed dark and gloomy in Langley Hall; and the sadness whichAnnie Walton had felt in parting with her brother, when strife anddanger were before him, had, it is true, though she would not own it,been deepened by the cold aspect of her future habitation. But theman's cheerful tone first raised the corner of the curtain; and whenon entering the wide old hall, she saw the mellow light of the settingsun pouring over a wide Champaign country, through a tall window onthe other side, and covering the marble floor as if with a network oflight a
nd shade, while here a bright suit of armour, and there acluster of well-arranged arms, and there a large picture of someancient lord of the place, caught the rays and glowed with a look ofpeaceful comfort, she felt revived and relieved.

  The next moment, from a door at the far end on the right, came forthan old lady, somewhat tall and upright, in her long stays, with a coifupon her head in token of widowhood, and her silver-white hairglistening beneath it, but withal a bland and pleasant smile upon herwrinkled face, and fire, almost as bright as that of youth, in herundimmed eye.

  She embraced her nephew and niece with all the affection andtenderness of a parent, and taking Annie by the hand, gazed on andkissed her again, saying--

  "Not like thy mother, Annie; not like thy mother; and yet theeyes--ay, too, and the lips; now you look grave. But, come; Charles,come. See where I sit, with my sole companion for the last five years,except when good Dr. Blunt comes over from Hull to tell me news, orthe vicar sits with me for an hour on Friday."

  As she spoke she led them into a large room, wainscotted with darkchesnut-wood; and from out of the recess of the window, where thesunshine fell, rose a tall shaggy deerhound, and, with stepsmajestical and slow, walked up to the young lord and lady, examinedfirst the one and then the other with close attention, stretchedhimself out with a weary yawn, and taking it for granted all wasright, laid himself down again to doze where he had been before.

  "See, Charles, see what a shrewd dog he is," cried the old lady: "heknows whom he may trust and whom he may not, in a moment. I had oldColonel Northcote here the other day. What he came for I know not,though I do know him to be a rogue; for Basto there did nought butgrowl and show his white teeth close to the good man's legs, till hewas glad to get away unbitten."

  "I sometimes wish we had their instinct, dear Aunt Margaret, ratherthan our sense," replied her nephew; "for one is often much moreserviceable than the other."

  "Much keener, Charles, at all events," answered the old lady. "And soyou are here at length. Well, I got all the letters, and Annie shallbe another in the hall when you are gone; and, when she is tired ofthe old woman, she has a sunny chamber where the robins sing, for herown thoughts; and she shall be free to come and go according to allstipulations, and no question asked, were it to meet a gallant in thewood."

  "Nay, Charles, nay," cried Miss Walton, "why did you write my auntsuch tales of me? My only stipulation was, indeed, that I might joinhim whenever a pause came in these sad doings, my dear aunt."

  "Oh, you shall be as free as air, sweet nun," replied Lady Margaret."I never could abide to see a poor bird in a cage, or a dog tied by achain; and when I was young I was as wild and wilful as my poor sisterAnn was staid and good. I have now lived to well-nigh seventy years,still loving all freedom but that which God forbids--still hating allthraldom but that which love imposes. I was long happy, too, inshaping my own course, and I would see others happy in the self-sameway. Come, dear child: while Charles disposes of his men, I will showyou your bower, where you may reign, queen of yourself and all withinit."

  Annie followed her aunt from the room, passed through another behindit, and entered a little sort of stone hall or vestibule, lighted fromthe top. Four doors were in the walls, and a small staircase at thefurther end, up which Lady Margaret led the way to the first floorabove, where two doors appeared on either hand, with a gallery, fencedwith an oaken balustrade running round the hall, at about twelve feetfrom the ground. Along this gallery the old lady led her young niece,and then through a long and somewhat tortuous passage, which wascrossed by another some twenty yards down, that branched off to morerooms and corridors beyond. Then came a turn, and then anotherpassage, and at the end three broad low steps led up to a large door.

  "Dear aunt," said Miss Walton, who had thought their journey wouldnever end, "your house is a perfect labyrinth. I shall never find myway back."

  "It is somewhat crooked in its ways, child," answered Lady Margaret;"but you will make it out in time, never fear; that is to say, as faras you need to know it. Now, here is your bower;" and, opening thedoor, she led Miss Walton into a large roam looking to the south-west.The sun had just gone down, and the whole western sky was on fire withhis parting look, so that a rosy light filled the wide chamber, from alarge bay window, where, raised a step above the rest of the room, wasa little platform with two seats, and a small table of inlaid wood.

  "There I have sat and worked many a day," said the old lady, pointingto the window, "when my poor knight was at the siege of Ostend. Welived together happily for many years, Annie, and it was very wrong ofhim to go away at last without taking me with him. However, we shallsoon meet again, that is some comfort; but I have never dwelt in thisroom since."

  As she spoke, a slow pattering sound was heard along the passage, andthen a scratch at the door. "It is Basto," said Lady Margaret; "he hascome to see that I am not moping myself in my old rooms. Come in,Basto;" and, opening the door, the dog stalked in, first looking up inhis mistress's face and wagging his tail deliberately, and then inthat of her fair niece with a similar gratulation.

  "Ah, thou art a wise man," said Lady Margaret, patting him on thehead. "We are growing old, Basto; we are growing old. My husbandbrought him from Ireland ten years ago, Annie, and he was then sometwo years old; so according to dogs' lives he is about fifty, and yetsee what teeth he has!" and she opened with her thin, fair, shrivelledhands the beast's powerful jaws.

  Miss Walton had in the mean time been taking a review of her chamber,which her kind aunt had certainly made as comfortable and gay as mightbe. The colours of all that it contained were light and sparkling,contrasting pleasantly with the dark panelling which lined the wholehouse. There were chairs and low seats covered with yellow silk, andcurtains of the same stuff to draw across the bay window. There weresundry pieces of tapestry for the feet, covered with roses and lilies,and on either side of the vast oaken mantel-piece hung brushes ofmany-coloured feathers. But there was no bed; and the next minute,after some further admiration of the dog's teeth, Lady Margaret openeda door on the right of the fireplace, which led into another roombeyond, fitted up as a sleeping-chamber, with the same air of comfortas the other. Everything was pointed out to Annie as long as any lightlasted, and then the old lady, showing her a third door, observed,"There is a closet for your maids to sleep in; but we must get back,sweet niece, for it is growing dark, and you will fancy goblins in thepassage."

  Miss Walton laughed, assuring her that she feared nothing but losingher way, and the old lady answered, "Oh! you must learn, you mustlearn, Annie. 'Tis often good to have a place like this, where one mayset search at defiance. In the last reign we had conspiracies enow,God wot! and one poor man, whose head they wanted, was here three dayswhile his enemies were in the house; but they never found him, and yethe walked about at ease."'

  "Indeed!" said Miss Walton, as they made their way back; "how mightthat be, my dear aunt? If they searched well in the daylight, I shouldthink there would be little chance of escape."

  "More than you know, Annie," answered her aunt drily; "but I will tellyou all about it some day; and now I will send up William, who is aclever lad, with your maids, to show them the way, and bring yourgoods and chattels up. But what is all this loud speaking, I wonder?"

  "I know the voice, I think," answered Miss Walton; "but if I am rightas to the person, he should have been over the seas long ago."