CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TURRET CHAMBER.
When mistress Watson had, as gently as if she had been his mother, boundup Richard's wounded head, she gave him a composing draught, and satdown by his bedside. But as soon as she saw it begin to take effect, shewithdrew, in the certainty that he would not move for some hours atleast. Although he did fall asleep, however, Richard's mind was toorestless and anxious to yield itself to the natural influence of thepotion. He had given his word to his father that he would ride on themorrow; the morrow had come, and here he was! Hence the condition whichthe drug superinduced was rather that of dreaming than sleep, the morevaluable element, repose, having little place in the result.
The key was in the lock, and Tom Fool as he listened softly turned it,then lifted the latch, peeped in, and entered. Richard started to hiselbow, and stared wildly about him. Tom made him an anxious sign, and,fevered as he was and but half awake, Richard, whether he understood itor not, anyhow kept silence, while Tom Fool approached the bed, andbegan to talk rapidly in a low voice, trembling with apprehension. Itwas some time, however, before Richard began to comprehend even afragment here and there of what he was saying. When at length he hadgathered this much, that his visitor was running no small risk in comingto him, and was in mortal dread of discovery, he needed but thedisclosure of who he was, which presently followed, to spring upon himand seize him by the throat with a gripe that rendered it impossible forhim to cry out, had he been so minded.
'Master, master!' he gurgled, 'let me go. I will swear any oath youplease--'
'And break it any moment YOU please,' returned Richard through his setteeth, and caught with his other hand the coverlid, dragged it from thebed, and, twisting it first round his face, flung the remainder abouthis body; then, threatening to knock his brains out if he made the leastnoise, proceeded to tie him up in it with his garters and its owncorners. No sound escaped poor Tom beyond a continuous mumbled entreatythrough its folds. Richard laid him on the floor, pulled all the beddingupon the top of him, and gliding out, closed the door, but, to Tom'sunspeakable relief, as his ears, agonizedly listening, assured him, didnot lock it behind him.
Tom's sole anxiety was now to get back to his garret unseen, and nothingwas farther from his thoughts than giving the alarm. The moment Richardwas out of hearing--out of sight he had been for some stiflingminutes--he devoted his energies to getting clear of his entanglement,which he did not find very difficult; then stepping softly from thechamber, he crept with a heavy heart back as he had come through alabyrinth of by-ways.
About half an hour after, Dorothy came gliding through the house, makinga long circuit of corridors. Gladly would she have avoided passingAmanda's door, and involuntarily held her breath as she approached it,stepping as lightly as a thief. But alas! nothing save incorporeitycould have availed her. The moment she had passed, out peeped Amanda andcrept after her barefooted, saw her to her joy enter the chamber andclose the door behind her, then 'like a tiger of the wood,' made onenoiseless bound, turned the key, and sped back to her own chamber--withthe feeling of Mark Antony when he said, 'Now let it work!'
Dorothy was startled by a slight click, but concluded at once that itwas nothing but a further fall of the latch, and was glad it was nolouder. The same moment she saw, by the dim rushlight, the signs ofstruggle which the room presented, and discovered that Richard was gone.Her first emotion was an undefined agony: they had murdered him, orcarried him off to a dungeon! There were the bedclothes in a tumbledheap upon the floor! And--yes--it was blood with which they were marked!Sickening at the thought, and forgetting all about her own situation,she sank on the chair by the bedside.
Knowing the castle as she did, a very little reflection convinced herthat if he had met with violence it must have been in attempting toescape; and if he had made the attempt, might he not have succeeded?There had certainly been no fresh alarm given. But upon this consolingsupposition followed instantly the pang of the question: what was nowrequired of her? The same hard thing as before? Ought she not again togive the alarm, that the poor wounded boy might be recaptured? Alas! hadnot evil enough already befallen him at her hand? And if shedid--horrible thought!--what account could she give this time of herdiscovery? What indeed but the truth? And to what vile comments wouldnot the confession of her secret visit in the first grey of the dawn tothe chamber of the prisoner expose her? Would it not naturally rousesuch suspicion as any modest woman must shudder to face, if but for theone moment between utterance and refutation. And what refutation couldthere be for her, so long as the fact remained? If he had escaped, thealarm would serve no good end, and her shame could be spared; but hemight be hiding somewhere about the castle, and she must choose betweentreachery to the marquis--was it?--on the one hand, and renewed hurt,wrong, perhaps, to Richard, coupled with the bitterest disgrace toherself, on the other. To weigh such a question impartially wasimpossible; for in the one alternative no hurt would befall the marquis,while from the other her very soul recoiled sickening. Thus tortured,she sat motionless in the very den of the dragon, the one moment vainlyendeavouring to rouse up her courage and look her duty in the face thatshe might know with certainty what it was; the next, feeling her wholenature rise rebellious against the fate that demanded such a sacrifice.Ought she to be thus punished for an intent of the purest humanity?
There came a lull, and with the lull a sense of her position: she sat inthe very, jaws of slander! Any moment mistress Watson or another mightenter and find her there, and what then more natural or irrefutable thanthe accusation of having liberated him? She sprang to her feet, anddarted to the door. It was locked!
Her first thought was relief: she had no longer to decide; her second,that she was a prisoner--till, horror of horrors! the soldiers of theguard came to seek Richard and found her, or stern mistress Watsonappeared, grim as one of the Fates; or, perhaps, if Richard had beencarried away, until she was compelled by hunger and misery to call aloudfor release. But no! she would rather die. Now in this case, now inthat, her thoughts pursued the horrible possibilities, one or other ofwhich was inevitable, through all the windings of the torture ofanticipation, until for a time she must have lost consciousness, for shehad no recollection of falling where she found herself--on the heap inthe middle of the floor. The gray heartless dawn had begun to peer inthrough the dull green glass that closed the one loophole. It grew andgrew, and its growth was the approach of the grinning demon of shame.The nearer a man can arrive to the knowledge of such feelings as hers isthe conviction that he never can comprehend them. The cruel light seemedgathering its strength to publish her shame to the universe. Blamelessas she was, she would have gladly accepted death in escape from themisery that every moment grew nearer. Now and then a faint glimmer ofcomfort reached her in the thought that at least the escape of Richard,if he had escaped, was thus ensured, and that without any blame to her.And perhaps mistress Watson would be merciful--only she too had herobligations, and as housekeeper was severely responsible. And even ifshe should prove pitiful, there was the locking of the door! It followedso quickly, that some one must have seen her enter, and wittingly snaredher, believing most likely that she was not alone in the chamber.
The terrible bolt at length slid back in the lock, gently, yet withtearing sound; mistress Watson entered, stood, stared. Before her satDorothy by the side of the bedstead, in her dressing-gown, her hairabout her neck, her face like the moon at sunrise, and her eyelids redand swollen with weeping. She stood speechless, staring first at thedisconsolate maiden, and then at the disorder of the room. The prisonerwas nowhere. What her thoughts were, I must only imagine. That sheshould stare and be bewildered, finding Dorothy where she had leftRichard, was at least natural.
The moment Dorothy found herself face to face with her doom, herpresence of mind returned. The blood rushed from her heart to her brain.She rose, and ere the astonished matron, who stood before her erect,high-nosed, and open-mouthed like Michael Angelo's Clotho, could findutterance, said,
/> 'Mistress Watson, I swear to you by the soul of my mother, that althoughall seeming is against me, W--'
'Where is the young rebel?' interrupted mistress Watson sternly.
'I know not,' answered Dorothy. 'When first I entered the chamber, hehad already gone.'
'And what then hadst thou to do entering it?' asked the housekeeper, ina tone that did Dorothy good by angering her.
Mistress Watson was a kind soul in reality, but few natures can resistthe debasing influence of a sudden sense of superiority. Besides, wasnot the young gentlewoman in great wrong, and therefore before her mustshe not personify an awful Purity?
'That I will tell to none but my lord marquis,' answered Dorothy, withsudden resolve.
'Oh, by all means, mistress! but an' thou think to lead him by the nosewhile I be in Raglan,--'
'Shall I inform his lordship in what high opinion his housekeeper holdshim?' said Dorothy. 'It seems to me he will hardly savour it.'
'It would be an ill turn to do me, but my lord marquis did never heed atale-bearer.'
'Then will he not heed the tale thou wouldst yield him concerning me.'
'What tale should I yield him but that I find--thee here and theprisoner gone?'
'The tale I read in thy face and thy voice. Thou lookest and talkest asif I were a false woman.'
'Verily to my eyes the thing looketh ill.'
'It would look ill to any eyes, and therefore I need kind eyes to read,and just ears to hear my tale. I tell thee this is a matter for my lord,and if thou spread any report in the castle ere his lordship hear it,whatever evil springs therefrom it will lie at thy door.'
'My life! what dost take me for, mistress Dorothy? My age and holdingdeserves some consideration at thy hands! Am I one to go tattling aboutthe courts forsooth?'
'Pardon me, madam, but a maiden's good name may be as precious toDorothy Vaughan as a matron's respectability to mistress Watson. An' youhad left me with that look on your face, and had but spoken my name toit, some one would have guessed ten times more than you know--or Ieither for that gear.'
'I must tell the truth,' said mistress Watson, relenting a little.
'Thou must, or I will tell it for thee--but to the marquis. Thou shaltbe there to hear, and if, after that, thou tell it to another, then hastthou no mother's heart in thee.'
Dorothy gave way at last and burst into tears. Mistress Watson wastouched.
'Nay, child, I would do thee no wrong,' she rejoined. 'Get thee to bed.I must rouse the guard to go look for the prisoner, but I will saynothing of thee to any but my lord marquis. When he is dressed and inhis study, I will come for thee myself.'
Dorothy thanked her warmly, and betook herself to her chamber,considerably relieved.
St. George and St. Michael Page 32
