The Gothic Terror MEGAPACK™: 17 Classic Tales

by Radcliffe, Ann

  “CLIFFORD.”

  Every one present expressed the highest approbation of this letter. Sir Philip gave orders to John Wyatt to be very circumspect in his behaviour, to give Edmund’s letter privately to father Oswald, and to make no mention of him, or his pretensions to Lovel Castle.

  Lord Clifford gave his servant the requisite precautions. Lord Graham added a note of invitation, and sent it by a servant of his own. As soon as all things were ready, the messengers set out with all speed for the Castle of Lovel.

  They stayed no longer by the way than to take some refreshment, but rode night and day till they arrived there.

  Lord Fitz-Owen was in the parlour with his children; Father Oswald was walking in the avenue before the house, when he saw three messengers whose horses seemed jaded, and the riders fatigued, like men come a long journey. He came up, just as the first had delivered his message to the porter. John Wyatt knew him; he dismounted, and made signs that he had something to say to him; he retired back a few steps, and John, with great dexterity, slipped a letter into his hand. The father gave him his blessing, and a welcome.

  “Who do you come from?” said he aloud.

  “From the Lords Graham and Clifford to the Lord Fitz-Owen; and we bring letters of consequence to the Baron.”

  Oswald followed the messengers into the hall; a servant announced their arrival. Lord Fitz-Owen received them in the parlour; Lord Clifford’s servant delivered his master’s letter, Lord Graham’s his, and they said they would retire and wait his Lordship’s answer. The Baron ordered them some refreshment. They retired, and he opened his letters. He read them with great agitations, he struck his hand upon his heart, he exclaimed, “My fears are all verified! the blow is struck, and it has fallen upon the guilty!”

  Oswald came in a minute after.

  “You are come in good time,” said the Baron. “Read that letter, that my children may know the contents.”

  He read it, with faultering voice, and trembling limbs. They were all in great surprise. William looked down, and kept a studied silence. Sir Robert exclaimed—

  “Is it possible? can my uncle be guilty of such an action?”

  “You hear,” said the Baron, “he has confessed it!”

  “But to whom?” said Sir Robert.

  His father replied, “Lord Clifford’s honour is unquestionable, and I cannot doubt what he affirms.”

  Sir Robert leaned his head upon his hand, as one lost in thought; at length he seemed to awake.

  “My Lord, I have no doubt that Edmund is at the bottom of this business. Do you not remember that Sir Philip Harclay long ago promised him his friendship? Edmund disappears; and, soon after, this man challenges my Uncle. You know what passed here before his departure; He has suggested this affair to Sir Philip, and instigated him to this action. This is the return he has made for the favours he has received from our family, to which he owes every thing!”

  “Softly, my son!” said the Baron; “let us be cautious of reflecting upon Edmund; there is a greater hand in this business. My conjecture was too true; It was in that fatal apartment that he was made acquainted with the circumstances of Lord Lovel’s death; he was, perhaps, enjoined to reveal them to Sir Philip Harclay, the bosom friend of the deceased. The mystery of that apartment is disclosed, the woe to the guilty is accomplished! There is no reflection upon any one; Heaven effects its purposes in its own time and manner. I and mine are innocent; let us worship, and be silent!”

  “But what do you propose to do?” said Sir Robert.

  “To return with the messengers,” answered the Baron. “I think it highly proper that I should see your Uncle, and hear what he has to say; my children are his heirs; in justice to them, I ought to be acquainted with every thing that concerns the disposal of his fortune.”

  “Your Lordship is in the right,” answered Sir Robert, “it concerns us all. I have only to ask your permission to bear you company.”

  “With all my heart,” said the Baron; “I have only to ask of you in return, that you will command yourself, and not speak your mind hastily; wait for the proofs before you give judgment, and take advice of your reason before you decide upon any thing; if you reflect upon the past, you will find reason to distrust yourself. Leave all to me, and be assured I will protect your honour and my own.”

  “I will obey you in all things, my lord; and will make immediate preparation for our departure.” So saying, he left the room.

  As soon as he was gone, Mr. William broke silence.

  “My Lord,” said he, “if you have no great objection, I beg leave also to accompany you both.”

  “You shall, my son, if you desire it; I think I can see your motives, and your brother’s also; your coolness will be a good balance to his warmth; you shall go with us. My son Walter shall be his sister’s protector in our absence, and he shall be master here till we return.”

  “I hope, my dear father, that will not be long; I shall not be happy till you come home,” said the fair Emma.

  “It shall be no longer, my dearest, than till this untoward affair is settled.”

  The Baron desired to know when the messengers were expected to return. Oswald took this opportunity to retire; he went to his own apartment, and read the letter, as follows:—

  “The Heir of Lovel, to his dear and reverend friend, father Oswald.

  “Let my friends at the Castle of Lovel know that I live in hopes one day to see them there. If you could by any means return with the messengers, your testimony would add weight to mine; perhaps you might obtain permission to attend the Baron; I leave it to you to manage this. John Wyatt will inform you of all that has passed here, and that hitherto my success has outrun my expectation, and, almost, my wishes. I am in the high road to my inheritance; and trust that the Power who hath conducted me thus far, will not leave his work unfinished. Tell my beloved William, that I live, and hope to embrace him before long. I recommend myself to your holy prayers and blessing, and remain your son and servant, Edmund.”

  Oswald then went to the messengers; he drew John Wyatt to a distance from the rest, and got the information he wanted. He stayed with him till he was sent for by the Baron, to whom he went directly, and prevented his questions, by saying, “I have been talking with the messengers; I find they have travelled night and day to bring the letters with all speed; they only require one night’s rest, and will be ready to set out with you tomorrow.”

  “’Tis well,” said the Baron; “we will set out as soon as they are ready.”

  “My Lord,” said Oswald, “I have a favour to beg of you; it is, that I may attend you; I have seen the progress of this wonderful discovery, and I have a great desire to see the conclusion of it; perhaps my presence may be of service in the course of your business.”

  “Perhaps it may,” said the Baron; “I have no objection, if you desire to go.”

  They then separated, and went to prepare for their journey.

  Oswald had a private interview with Joseph, whom he informed of all that he knew, and his resolution to attend the Baron in his journey to the north.

  “I go,” said he, “to bear witness in behalf of injured innocence. If it be needful, I shall call upon you; therefore hold yourself in readiness in case you should be sent for.”

  “That I will,” said Joseph, “and spend my last remains of life and strength, to help my young lord to his right and title. But do they not begin to suspect who is the heir of Lovel?”

  “Not in the least,” said Oswald; “they think him concerned in the discovery, but have no idea of his being interested in the event.”

  “Oh, father!” said Joseph, “I shall think every day a week till your return; but I will no longer keep you from your repose.”

  “Good night,” said Oswald; “but I have another visit to pay before I go to rest
.”

  He left Joseph, and went on tip-toe to Mr. William’s room, and tapped at his door. He came and opened it. “What news, father?”

  “Not much; I have only orders to tell you that Edmund is well, and as much your friend as ever.”

  “I guessed,” said William, “that we should hear something of him. I have still another guess.”

  “What is that, my child?”

  “That we shall see or hear of him where we are going.”

  “It is very likely,” said Oswald; “and I would have you be prepared for it;—I am confident we shall hear nothing to his discredit.”

  “I am certain of that,” said William, “and I shall rejoice to see him; I conclude that he is under the protection of Sir Philip Harclay.”

  “He is so,” said Oswald; “I had my information from Sir Philip’s servant, who is one of the messengers, and was guide to the others in their way hither.”

  After some farther conversation they separated, and each went to his repose.

  The next morning the whole party set out on their journey; they travelled by easy stages on account of the Baron’s health, which began to be impaired, and arrived in health and spirits at the castle of Lord Graham, where they were received with the utmost respect and kindness by the noble master.

  The Lord Lovel had recovered his health and strength as much as possible in the time, and was impatient to be gone from thence to his own house. He was surprised to hear of the arrival of his brother and nephews, and expressed no pleasure at the thoughts of seeing them. When Sir Philip Harclay came to pay his respects to Baron Fitz-Owen, the latter received him with civility, but with a coldness that was apparent. Sir Robert left the room, doubting his resolution. Sir Philip advanced, and took the Baron by the hand.

  “My Lord,” said he, “I rejoice to see you here. I cannot be satisfied with the bare civilities of such a man as you. I aspire to your esteem, to your friendship, and I shall not be happy till I obtain them. I will make you the judge of every part of my conduct, and where you shall condemn me, I will condemn myself.”

  The Baron was softened, his noble heart felt its alliance with its counterpart, but he thought the situation of his brother demanded some reserve towards the man who sought his life; but, in spite of himself, it wore off every moment. Lord Clifford related all that had passed, with the due regard to Sir Philip’s honour; he remarked how nobly he concealed the cause of his resentment against the Lord Lovel till the day of combat, that he might not prepossess the judges against him. He enlarged on his humanity to the vanquished, on the desire he expressed to have justice done to his heirs; finally, he mentioned his great respect for the Lord Fitz-Owen, and the solicitude he shewed to have him come to settle the estate of the sick man in favour of his children. Lord Clifford also employed his son to soften Sir Robert, and to explain to him every doubtful part of Sir Philip’s behaviour.

  After the travellers had taken some rest, the Lord Graham proposed that they should make a visit to the sick man’s chamber. The lords sent to acquaint him they were coming to visit him, and they followed the messenger. The Lord Fitz-Owen went up to the bedside; he embraced his brother with strong emotions of concern. Sir Robert followed him; then Mr. William.

  Lord Lovel embraced them, but said nothing; his countenance shewed his inward agitations. “Lord Fitz-Owen first broke silence.

  “I hope,” said he, “I see my brother better than I expected?”

  Lord Lovel bit his fingers, he pulled the bed-clothes, he seemed almost distracted; at length he broke out—

  “I owe no thanks to those who sent for my relations! Sir Philip Harclay, you have used ungenerously the advantage you have gained over me! you spared my life, only to take away my reputation. You have exposed me to strangers, and, what is worse, to my dearest friends; when I lay in a state of danger, you obliged me to say any thing, and now you take advantage of it, to ruin me in my friends’ affection. But, if I recover, you may repent it!”

  Sir Philip then came forward.

  “My Lords, I shall take no notice of what this unhappy man has just now said; I shall appeal to you, as to the honourable witnesses of all that has passed; you see it was no more than necessary. I appeal to you for the motives of my treatment of him, before, at, and after our meeting. I did not take his life, as I might have done; I wished him to repent of his sins, and to make restitution of what he unjustly possesses. I was called out to do an act of justice; I had taken the heir of Lovel under my protection, my chief view was to see justice done to him;—what regarded this man was but a secondary motive. This was my end, and I will never, never lose sight of it.”

  Lord Lovel seemed almost choaked with passion, to see every one giving some mark of approbation and respect to Sir Philip. He called out—

  “I demand to know who is this pretended heir, whom he brings out to claim my title and fortune?”

  “My noble auditors,” said Sir Philip, “I shall appeal to your judgment, in regard to the proofs of my ward’s birth and family; every circumstance shall be laid before you, and you shall decide upon them.

  “Here is a young man, supposed the son of a peasant, who, by a train of circumstances that could not have happened by human contrivance, discovers not only who were his real parents, but that they came to untimely deaths. He even discovers the different places where their bones are buried, both out of consecrated ground, and appeals to their ashes for the truth of his pretensions. He has also living proofs to offer, that will convince the most incredulous. I have deferred entering into particulars, till the arrival of Baron Fitz-Owen. I know his noble heart and honourable character, from one that has long been an eye-witness of his goodness; such is the opinion I have of his justice, that I will accept him as one of the judges in his brother’s cause. I and my ward will bring our proofs before him, and the company here present; in the course of them, it will appear that he is the best qualified of any to judge of them, because he can ascertain many of the facts we shall have occasion to mention. I will rest our cause upon their decision.”

  Lord Graham applauded Sir Philip’s appeal, affirming his own impartiality, and calling upon Lord Clifford and his son, and also his own nephews who were present. Lord Clifford said—

  “Sir Philip offers fairly, and like himself; there can be no place nor persons more impartial than the present, and I presume the Lord Lovel can have no objection.”

  “No objection!” answered he; “what, to be tried like a criminal, to have judges appointed over me, to decide upon my right to my own estate and title? I will not submit to such a jurisdiction!”

  “Then,” said Sir Philip, “you had rather be tried by the laws of the land, and have them pronounce sentence upon you? Take your choice, sir; if you refuse the one, you shall be certain of the other.”

  Lord Clifford then said—“You will allow Lord Lovel to consider of the proposal; he will consult his friends, and be determined by their advice.”

  Lord Fitz-Owen said—“I am very much surprised at what I have heard. I should be glad to know all that Sir Philip Harclay has to say for his ward, that I may judge what my brother has to hope or fear; I will then give my best advice, or offer my mediation, as he may stand in need of them.”

  “You say well,” replied Lord Graham, “and pray let us come directly to the point; Sir Philip, you will introduce your ward to this company, and enter upon your proofs.”

  Sir Philip bowed to the company; he went out and brought in Edmund, encouraging him by the way; he presented him to Baron Fitz-Owen, who looked very serious.

  “Edmund Twyford,” said he, “are you the heir of the house of Lovel?”

  “I am, my Lord,” said Edmund, bowing to the ground; “the proofs will appear; but I am, at the same time, the most humble and grateful of all your servants, and the servant of your virtues.”

  Sir
Robert rose up, and was going to leave the room.

  “Son Robert, stay,” said the Baron; “if there is any fraud, you will be pleased to detect it, and, if all that is affirmed be true, you will not shut your eyes against the light; you are concerned in this business; hear it in silence, and let reason be arbiter in your cause.”

  He bowed to his father, bit his lip, and retired to the window. William nodded to Edmund, and was silent. All the company had their eyes fixed on the young man, who stood in the midst, casting down his eyes with modest respect to the audience; while Sir Philip related all the material circumstances of his life, the wonderful gradation by which he came to the knowledge of his birth, the adventures of the haunted apartment, the discovery of the fatal closet, and the presumptive proofs that Lord Lovel was buried there. At this part of his narration, Lord Fitz-Owen interrupted him.

  “Where is this closet you talk of? for I and my sons went over the apartment since Edmund’s departure, and found no such place as you describe.”

  “My Lord,” said Edmund, “I can account for it: the door is covered with tapestry, the same as the room, and you might easily overlook it; but I have a witness here,” said he, and putting his hand into his bosom, he drew out the key. “If this is not the key of that closet, let me be deemed an impostor, and all I say a falsehood; I will risk my pretensions upon this proof.”