The Castle Inn

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXX

  A GREEK GIFT

  Julia, left alone, and locked in the room, passed such a night as a girlinstructed in the world's ways might have been expected to pass in herposition, and after the rough treatment of the afternoon. The room grewdark, the dismal garden and weedy pool that closed the prospect fadedfrom sight; and still as she crouched by the barred window, or listenedbreathless at the door, all that part of the house lay silent. Not asound of life came to the ear.

  By turns she resented and welcomed this. At one time, pacing the floorin a fit of rage and indignation, she was ready to dash herself againstthe door, or scream and scream and scream until some one came to her. Atanother the recollection of Pomeroy's sneering smile, of his insolentgrasp, revived to chill and terrify her; and she hid in the darkestcorner, hugged the solitude, and, scarcely daring to breathe, prayedthat the silence might endure for ever.

  But the hours in the dark room were long and cold; and at times thefever of rage and fear left her in the chill. Of this came another phasethrough which she passed, as the night wore on and nothing happened. Herthoughts reverted to him who should have been her protector, but hadbecome her betrayer--and by his treachery had plunged her into thismisery; and on a sudden a doubt of his guilt flashed into her mind andblinded her by its brilliance. Had she done him an injustice? Had theabduction been, after all, concerted not by him but by Mr. Thomasson andhis confederates? The setting down near Pomeroy's gate, the reception athis house, the rough, hasty suit paid to her--were these all parts of adrama cunningly arranged to mystify her? And was he innocent? Was _he_still her lover, true, faithful, almost her husband?

  If she could think so! She rose, and softly walked the floor in thedarkness, tears raining down her face. Oh, if she could be sure of it!At the thought, the thought only, she glowed from head to foot withhappy shame. And fear? If this were so, if his love were still hers, andhers the only fault--of doubting him, she feared nothing! Nothing! Shefelt her way to a tray in the corner where her last meal remaineduntasted, and ate and drank humbly, and for him. She might needher strength.

  She had finished, and was groping her return to the window-seat, when afaint rustle as of some one moving on the other side of the door caughther ear. She had fancied herself brave enough an instant before, but inthe darkness a great horror of fear came on her. She stood rooted to thespot; and heard the noise again. It was followed by the sound of a handpassed stealthily over the panels; a hand seeking, as she thought, forthe key; and she could have shrieked in her helplessness. But while shestood, her face turned to stone, came instant relief, A voice, subduedin fear, whispered, 'Hist, ma'am, hist! Are you asleep?'

  She could have fallen on her knees in her thankfulness. 'No! no!' shecried eagerly. 'Who is it?'

  'It is me--Olney!' was the answer. 'Keep a heart, ma'am! They are goneto bed. You are quite safe.'

  'Can you let me out?' Julia cried. 'Oh, let me out!'

  'Let you out?'

  'Yes, yes! Let me out? Please let me out.'

  'God forbid, ma'am!' was the horrified answer. 'He'd kill me. And he hasthe key. But--'

  'Yes? yes?'

  'Keep your heart up, ma'am, for Jarvey'll not see you hurt; nor will I.You may sleep easy. And good-night!'

  She stole away before Julia could answer; but she left comfort. In aglow of thankfulness the girl pushed a chair against the door, and,wrapping herself for warmth in the folds of the shabby curtains, laydown on the window seat. She was willing to sleep now, but the agitationof her thoughts, the whirl of fear and hope that prevailed in them, asshe went again and again over the old ground, kept her long awake. Themoon had risen and run its course, decking the old garden with a solemnbeauty as of death, and was beginning to retreat before the dawn, whenJulia slept at last.

  When she awoke it was broad daylight. A moment she gazed upwards,wondering where she was; the next a harsh grating sound, and the echo ofa mocking laugh brought her to her feet in a panic of remembrance.

  The key was still turning in the lock--she saw it move, saw itwithdrawn; but the room was empty. And while she stood staring andlistening heavy footsteps retired along the passage. The chair which shehad set against the door had been pushed back, and milk and bread stoodon the floor beside it.

  She drew a deep breath; he had been there. But her worst terrors hadpassed with the night. The sun was shining, filling her with scorn ofher gaoler. She panted to be face to face with him, that she might coverhim with ridicule, overwhelm him with the shafts of her woman's wit, andshow him how little she feared and how greatly she despised him.

  But he did not appear; the hours passed slowly, and with the afternooncame a clouded sky, and weariness and reaction of spirits; fatigue ofbody, and something like illness; and on that a great terror. If theydrugged her in her food? The thought was like a knife in the girl'sheart, and while she still writhed on it, her ear caught the creak of aboard in the passage, and a furtive tread that came, and softly wentagain, and once more returned. She stood, her heart beating; and fanciedshe heard the sound of breathing on the other side of the door. Then hereye alighted on a something white at the foot of the door, that had notbeen there a minute earlier. It was a tiny note. While she gazed at itthe footsteps stole away again.

  She pounced on the note and opened it, thinking it might be from Mrs.Olney. But the opening lines smacked of other modes of speech than hers;and though Julia had no experience of Mr. Thomasson's epistolary style,she felt no surprise when she found the initials F.T. appended tothe message.

  'Madam,' it ran. 'You are in danger here, and I in no less of being heldto account for acts which my heart abhors. Openly to oppose myself toMr. P.--the course my soul dictates--were dangerous for us both, andanother must be found. If he drink deep to-night, I will, heavenassisting, purloin the key, and release you at ten, or as soon after asmay be. Jarvey, who is honest, and fears the turn things are taking,will have a carriage waiting in the road. Be ready, hide this, and whenyou are free, though I seek no return for services attended by muchrisk, yet if you desire to find one, an easy way may appear ofrequiting,

  'Madam, your devoted, obedient servant, F.T.'

  Julia's face glowed. 'He cannot do even a kind act as it should bedone,' she thought. 'But once away it will be easy to reward him. Atworst he shall tell me how I came to be set down here.'

  She spent the rest of the day divided between anxiety on that point--forMr. Thomasson's intervention went some way to weaken the theory she hadbuilt up with so much joy--and impatience for night to come and put anend to her suspense. She was now as much concerned to escape the ordealof Mr. Pomeroy's visit as she had been earlier in the day to see him.And she had her wish. He did not come; she fancied he might be willingto let the dullness and loneliness, the monotony and silence of herprison, work their effect on her mind.

  Night, as welcome to-day as it had been yesterday unwelcome, fell atlast, and hid the dingy familiar room, the worn furniture, the duskyoutlook. She counted the minutes, and before it was nine by the clockwas the prey of impatience, thinking the time past and gone and thetutor a poor deceiver. Ten was midnight to her; she hoped against hope,walking her narrow bounds in the darkness. Eleven found her lying on herface on the floor, heaving dry sobs of despair, her hair dishevelled.And then, on a sudden she sprang up; the key was grating in the lock!While she stared, half demented, scarcely believing her happiness, Mr.Thomasson appeared on the threshold, his head--he wore no wig--muffledin a woman's shawl, a shaded lanthorn in his hand.

  'Come!' he said. 'There is not a moment to be lost.'

  'Oh!' she cried hysterically, yet kept her shaking voice low; 'I thoughtyou were not coming. I thought it was all over.'

  'I am late,' he answered nervously; his face was pale, his shifty eyesavoided hers.' It is eleven o'clock, but I could not get the key before.Follow me closely and silently, child; and in a few minutes you willbe safe.'

  'Heaven bless you!' she cried, weeping. And would have taken his hand.


  But at that he turned from her so abruptly that she marvelled, for shehad not judged him a man averse from thanks. But setting his manner downto the danger and the need of haste, she took the hint and controllingher feelings, prepared to follow him in silence. Holding the lanthorn sothat its light fell on the floor he listened an instant, then led theway on tip-toe down the dim corridor. The house was hushed round them;if a board creaked under their feet, it seemed to her scared ears apistol shot. At the entrance to the gallery which was partly illuminedby lights still burning in the hall below, the tutor paused anew aninstant to listen, then turned quickly from it, and by a narrow passageon the right gained a back staircase. Descending the steep stairs heguided her by devious turnings through dingy offices and servants'quarters until they stood in safety before an outer door. To withdrawthe bar that secured it, while she held the lanthorn, was for the tutorthe work of an instant. They passed through, and he closed the doorsoftly behind them.

  After the confinement of her prison, the night air that blew on hertemples was rapture to Julia; for it breathed of freedom. She turned herface up to the dark boughs that met and interlaced above her head, andwhispered her thankfulness. Then, obedient to Mr. Thomasson's impatientgesture, she hastened to follow him along a dank narrow path thatskirted the wall of the house for a few yards, then turned off amongthe trees.

  They had left the wall no more than a dozen paces behind them, when Mr.Thomasson paused, as in doubt, and raised his light. They were in alittle beech-coppice that grew close up to the walls of the servants'offices. The light showed the dark shining trunks, running in solemnrows this way and that; and more than one path trodden smooth across theroots. The lanthorn disclosed no more, but apparently this was enoughfor Mr. Thomasson. He pursued the path he had chosen, and less than aminute's walking brought them to the avenue.

  Julia drew a breath of relief and looked behind and before. 'Where isthe carriage?' she whispered, shivering with excitement.

  The tutor before he answered raised his lanthorn thrice to the level ofhis head, as if to make sure of his position. Then, 'In the road,' heanswered. 'And the sooner you are in it the better, child, for I mustreturn and replace the key before he sobers. Or 'twill, be worse forme,' he added snappishly, 'than for you.'

  'You are not coming with me? 'she exclaimed in surprise.

  'No, I--I can't quarrel with him,' he answered hurriedly. 'I--I am underobligations to him. And once in the carriage you'll be safe.'

  'Then please to tell me this,' Julia rejoined, her breath a littleshort. 'Mr. Thomasson, did you know anything of my being carried offbefore it took place?'

  'I?' he cried effusively. 'Did I know?'

  'I mean--were you employed--to bring me to Mr. Pomeroy's?'

  'I employed? To bring you to Mr. Pomeroy's? Good heavens! ma'am, what doyou take me for?' the tutor cried in righteous indignation. 'No, ma'am,certainly not! I am not that kind of man!' And then blurting out thetruth in his surprise, 'Why, 'twas Mr. Dunborough!' he said. 'And likehim too! Heaven keep us from him!'

  'Mr. Dunborough?' she exclaimed.

  'Yes, yes.'

  'Oh,' she said, in a helpless, foolish kind of way. 'It was Mr.Dunborough, was it?' And she begged his pardon. And did it too sohumbly, in a voice so broken by feeling and gratitude, that, bad man ashe was, his soul revolted from the work he was upon; and for an instant,he stood still, the lanthorn swinging in his hand.

  She misinterpreted the movement. 'Are we right?' she said, anxiously.'You don't think that we are out of the road?' Though the night wasdark, and it was difficult to discern, anything beyond the circle oflight thrown by the lanthorn, it struck her that the avenue they weretraversing was not the one by which she had approached the house twonights before. The trees seemed to stand farther from one another and tobe smaller. Or was it her fancy?

  But it was not that had moved him to stand; for in a moment, with acurious sound between a groan and a curse he led the way on, withoutanswering her. Fifty paces brought them to the gate and the road.Thomasson held up his lanthorn and looked over the gate.

  'Where is the carriage?' she whispered, startled by the darkness andsilence.

  'It should be here,' he answered, his voice betraying his perplexity.'It should be here at this gate. But I--I don't see it.'

  'Would it have lights?' she asked anxiously. He had opened the gate bythis time, and as she spoke they passed through, and stood togetherlooking up and down the road. The moon was obscured, and the lanthorn'srays were of little use to find a carriage which was not there.

  'It should be here, and it should have lights,' he said in evidentdismay. 'I don't know what to think of it. I--ha! What is that? It iscoming, I think. Yes, I hear it. The coachman must have drawn off alittle for some reason, and now he has seen the lanthorn.'

  He had only the sound of wheels to go upon, but he proved to be right;she uttered a sigh of relief as the twin lights of a carriage apparentlyapproaching round a bend of the road broke upon them. The lights drewnear and nearer, and the tutor waved his lamp. For a second the driverappeared to be going to pass them; then, as Mr. Thomasson again wavedhis lanthorn and shouted, he drew up.

  'Halloa!' he said.

  Mr. Thomasson did not answer, but with a trembling hand opened the doorand thrust the girl in. 'God bless you!' she murmured; 'and--' Heslammed the door, cutting short the sentence.

  'Well?' the driver said, looking down at him, his face in shadow; 'Iam--'

  'Go on!' Mr. Thomasson cried peremptorily, and waving his lanthornagain, startled the horses; which plunged away wildly, the man tuggingvainly at the reins. The tutor fancied that, as it started, he caught afaint scream from the inside of the chaise, but he set it down to frightcaused by the sudden jerk; and, after he had stood long enough to assurehimself that the carriage was keeping the road, he turned to retrace hissteps to the house.

  He was feeling for the latch of the gate--his thoughts no pleasant ones,for the devil pays scant measure--when his ear was surprised by a newsound of wheels approaching from the direction whence the chaise hadcome. He stood to listen, thinking he heard an echo; but in a second ortwo he saw lights approaching through the night precisely as the otherlights had approached. Once seen they came on swiftly, and he was stillstanding gaping in wonder when a carriage and pair, a postboy riding anda servant sitting outside, swept by, dazzling him a moment; the next itwas gone, whirled away into the darkness.