The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  "But you must now feel that your apprehensions were groundless; and ifI should be placed in any fresh danger you must take courage from thepast."

  "Perhaps you will say that I am grown very timorous, and I canscarcely account for my misgivings--but I will not conceal them. Idon't think you are quite safe in this house."

  "Why not? Old Markland is devoted to me, I am quite sure, and no oneelse among the household is aware of my arrival."

  "But I am sadly afraid they may discover you."

  "You are indeed timorous. Even if I should be discovered, I don'tthink any of them would be base enough to betray me."

  "I have another ground for uneasiness, more serious than this, but Iscarcely like to allude to it, because I may be doing an injustice tothe person who causes my alarm. I fear you have an enemy in thehouse."

  Atherton looked at her inquiringly, and then said:

  "I can only have one enemy--Father Jerome."

  She made no answer, but he perceived from her looks that he hadguessed aright.

  "'Tis unlucky he is established in the house. Why did you bring himhere?"

  "I could not help it. And he has been most useful to me. But I know hedoes not like you; and I also know that his nature is malicious andvindictive. I hope he may not find out that you are concealed in thehouse. I have cautioned Markland, and Monica does not require to becautioned. Ah! what was that?" she added, listening anxiously. "Ithought I heard a noise in the adjoining chamber."

  "It may be Markland," said Atherton. "But I will go and see."

  With this, he stepped quickly into the next room, the door of whichstood ajar.

  As we have mentioned, the shutters were closed, and the room was dark,but still, if any listener had been there, he must have been detected.The room, however, seemed quite empty.

  Not satisfied with this inspection, Atherton went on through the wholesuite of apartments, and with a like result.

  "You must have been mistaken," he said on his return to Constance. "Icould find no eaves-dropper."

  "I am glad to hear it, for I feared that a certain person might bethere. But I must now leave you. I hope you will not find yourconfinement intolerably wearisome. You will be able to get out atnight--but during the daytime you must not quit these rooms."

  "Come frequently to see me, and the time will pass pleasantly enough,"he rejoined.

  "I must not come too often or my visits will excite suspicion," shereplied. "But I will send you some books by Markland."

  "There is a private communication between this part of the house andthe library. May I not venture to make use of it?"

  "Not without great caution," she rejoined. "Father Jerome isconstantly in the library. But I will try to get him away in theevening, and Markland shall bring you word when you can descend withsafety."

  "Surely some plan might be devised by which Father Jerome could be gotrid of for a time?" said Atherton.

  "I have thought the matter over, but no such plan occurs to me,"replied Constance. "He rarely quits the house, and were I to proposeto him to take a journey, or pay a visit, he would immediately suspectI had an object in doing so. But even if he were willing to go, myAunt Butler I am sure would object."

  "Is she not aware that I am in the house?"

  "No, Monica and I thought it better not to trust her. She could notkeep the secret from Father Jerome."

  "Then since the evil cannot be remedied it must be endured," saidAtherton.

  "That is the right way to view it," rejoined Constance. "Not till themoment of your departure must Father Jerome learn that you have takenrefuge here. And now, adieu!"

  CHAPTER V.

  A POINT OF FAITH.

  Left alone, Atherton endeavoured to reconcile himself to hisimprisonment, but with very indifferent success.

  How he longed to join the party downstairs--to go forth into thegarden or the park--to do anything, in short, rather than remain shutup in those gloomy rooms! But stay there he must!--so he amusedhimself as well as he could by looking into the cupboards with whichthe rooms abounded.

  In the course of his examination he found some books, and with thesehe contrived to beguile the time till old Markland made hisappearance.

  The old butler brought with him a well-filled basket, from which heproduced the materials of a very good cold dinner, including a flaskof wine; and a cloth being spread upon a small table in the room wehave described as less gloomy than the other apartments, the young mansat down to the repast.

  "I have had some difficulty in bringing you these provisions, sir,"observed Markland. "Father Jerome has been playing the spy upon me allthe morning--hovering about my room, so that I couldn't stir withoutrunning against him. Whether he heard anything last night I can't say,but I'm sure he suspects you are hidden in the house."

  "What if he does suspect, Markland?" observed Atherton. "Do you thinkhe would betray me? If you believe so, you must have a very badopinion of him."

  "I can tell you one thing, sir; he was far from pleased when he heardof your escape, and wished it had been Captain Dawson instead. I toldhim I thought you might seek refuge here, and he said he hoped not;adding, 'If you were foolish enough to do so you would certainly bediscovered.' I repeated these observations to Miss Rawcliffe, and sheagreed with me that they argued an ill-feeling towards you."

  "What can I have done to offend him?" exclaimed Atherton.

  "I don't know, sir, except that you are heir to the property. But giveyourself no uneasiness. I will take care he shan't harm you. Don't onany account leave these rooms till you see me again."

  "Has Father Jerome access to this part of the house, Markland?"

  "No; I keep the door of the gallery constantly locked; and he is notaware of the secret entrance to the library."

  "Are you sure of that?"

  "Quite sure, sir. I never heard him allude to it."

  "He is frequently in the library, I understand?"

  "Yes, he sits there for hours; but he generally keeps in his own roomin the evening, and you might then come down with safety. Have youeverything you require at present?"

  "Everything. You have taken excellent care of me, Markland."

  "I am sorry I can't do better. I'll return by-and-by to take away thethings."

  With this he departed, and Atherton soon made an end of his meal.

  Time seemed to pass very slowly, but at length evening arrived, andthe butler reappeared.

  "You will find Miss Rawcliffe in the library," he said, "and need fearno interruption, for Father Jerome is with Mrs. Butler. I shall be onthe watch, and will give timely notice should any danger arise."

  Instantly shaking off the gloom that had oppressed him, Atherton setoff. The butler accompanied him to the head of the private staircase,but went no further. Though all was buried in darkness, the young maneasily found his way to the secret door, and cautiously stepped intothe library.

  Lights placed upon the table showed him that Constance was in theroom, and so noiselessly had he entered, that she was not aware of hispresence till he moved towards her. She then rose from the sofa tomeet him, and was clasped to his breast. Need we detail theirconverse? It was like all lovers' talk--deeply interesting to theparties concerned, but of little interest to any one else. However, wemust refer to one part of it. They had been speaking of theirprospects of future happiness, when he might be able to procure apardon from the Government and return to Rawcliffe--or she might joinhim in France.

  "But why should our union be delayed?" he cried. "Why should we not beunited before my departure?"

  "'Tis too soon after my unhappy father's death," she replied. "I couldnot show such disrespect to his memory."

  "But the marriage would be strictly private, and consequently therecould be no indecorum. You can remain here for awhile, and then rejoinme. I shall be better able to endure the separation when I feelcertain you are mine."

  "I am yours already--linked to you as indissolubly as if our hands hadbeen joined at the altar. But the
ceremony cannot be performed atpresent. Our faiths are different. Without a dispensation from abishop of the Church of Rome, which could not be obtained here, noRomish priest would unite us. But were Father Jerome willing todisobey the canons of the Church, I should have scruples."

  "You never alluded to such scruples before."

  "I knew not of the prohibition. I dare not break the rules of theChurch I belong to."

  "But you say that a license can be procured," he cried eagerly.

  "Not here," she rejoined; "and this would be a sufficient reason forthe delay, if none other existed. Let us look upon this as a trial towhich we must submit, and patiently wait for happier days, when alldifficulties may be removed."

  "You do not love me as much as I thought you did, Constance," he said,in a reproachful tone. "'Tis plain you are under the influence of thismalicious and designing priest."

  "Do not disquiet yourself," she rejoined, calmly. "Father Jerome hasno undue influence over me, and could never change my sentimentstowards you. I admit that he is not favourably disposed towards ourunion, and would prevent it if he could, but he is powerless."

  "I shall be miserable if I leave him with you, Constance. He ought tobe driven from the house."

  "I cannot do that," she rejoined. "But depend upon it he shall neverprejudice me against you."

  Little more passed between them, for Constance did not dare to prolongthe interview.

  CHAPTER VI.

  A LETTER FROM BEPPY BYROM.

  Another day of imprisonment--for such Atherton deemed it. Marklandbrought him his meals as before, and strove to cheer him, for theyoung man looked very dull and dispirited.

  "I can't remain here much longer, Markland," he said. "Something inthe atmosphere of these deserted rooms strangely oppresses me. I seemto be surrounded by beings of another world, who, though invisible tomortal eye, make their presence felt. I know this is mere imagination,and I am ashamed of myself for indulging such idle fancies, but Icannot help it. Tell me, Markland," he added, "are these roomssupposed to be haunted?"

  "Since you ask me the question, sir, I must answer it truthfully. Theyare. It was reported long ago that apparitions had been seen in them;and since nobody liked to occupy the rooms, they were shut up. But youneedn't be frightened, sir. The ghosts will do you no harm."

  "I am not frightened, Markland. But I confess I prefer the society ofthe living to that of the dead. Last night--whether I was sleeping orwaking at the time I can't exactly tell--but I thought Sir Richardappeared to me; and this is the second time I have seen him, for hewarned me before I went to Carlisle. And now he has warned me again ofsome approaching danger. The spirit--if spirit it was--had a grievedand angry look, and seemed to reproach me with neglect."

  The latter was deeply interested in what was told him, and, after amoment's reflection, said:

  "This is very strange. Have you disregarded Sir Richard's dyinginjunctions? Bethink you, sir!"

  "I would not abandon the expedition as he counselled me, and I went onto Carlisle--but since my return I cannot charge myself with anyneglect. Ah! one thing occurs to me. I ought to see that certaindocuments which he left me are safe."

  "Where did you place them, sir, may I ask?" said the butler.

  "In the ebony cabinet in the library. I have the key."

  "Then, no doubt, they are perfectly safe, sir. But it may be well tosatisfy yourself on the point when you go down to the library."

  "I will do so. Shall I find Miss Rawcliffe there this evening?"

  "You will, sir, at the same hour as last night. She bade me tell youso."

  Shortly afterwards, the butler took his departure, and Atherton wasagain left to himself for several hours.

  When evening came, Markland had not reappeared; but doubtlesssomething had detained him, and concluding all was right, Athertondescended the private staircase, and passed through the secret doorinto the library.

  Constance was there and alone. Lights were placed upon the tablebeside which she was seated. She was reading a letter at the moment,and seemed deeply interested in its contents; but on hearing hisfootsteps, she rose to welcome him.

  "This letter relates entirely to you," she said.

  "And judging from your looks it does not bring good news," heremarked.

  "It does not," she rejoined. "It is from Beppy Byrom, and was broughtby a special messenger from Manchester. She informs me that a warrantfor your arrest has just been received by the authorities of the town,who are enjoined to offer a reward for your capture. Strict searchwill, consequently, be made for you, she says; and as Rawcliffe Hallmay be visited, she sends this notice. She also states that it will beimpossible to escape to France from any English port, as an embargo isnow laid on all vessels. The letter thus concludes: 'If you have anycommunication with Captain Legh, pray tell him, if he should be drivento extremity, he will find an asylum in my father's house.'"

  "Have you returned any answer to this kind letter?" inquired Atherton.

  "No--it would not have been prudent to detain the messenger. Duringhis brief stay, Markland took care he should not have any conversationwith the servants. Father Jerome was curious to ascertain the natureof his errand, and learnt that he came from Manchester--but nothingmore. I know not what you may resolve upon; but if you decide onflight, you will need funds. In this pocket-book are bank-notes to aconsiderable amount. Nay, do not hesitate to take it," she added, "youare under no obligation to me. The money is your own."

  Thus urged, Atherton took the pocket-book, and said:

  "Before I decide upon the steps I ought to take in this dangerousemergency, let me mention a matter to you that has weighed upon mymind. In yonder cabinet are certain papers which I desire to confideto your care. They contain proofs that I am the rightful heir to thisproperty--the most important of the documents being a statement drawnup by your father, and signed by him, immediately before his death.Now listen to me, Constance. Should I fall into the hands of theenemy--should I die the death of a traitor--it is my wish that thosedocuments should never be produced."

  Constance could not repress an exclamation.

  "All will be over then," he proceeded, calmly. "And why should a darkstory, which can only bring dishonour on our family, be revealed? Letthe secret be buried in my grave. If I am remembered at all, let it beas Atherton Legh, and not as Oswald Rawcliffe."

  "Your wishes shall be fulfilled," she replied, deeply moved. "But Itrust the dire necessity may never arise."

  "We must prepare for the worst," he said. "Here is the key. See thatthe papers are safe."

  She unlocked the cabinet, and opened all the drawers. They were empty.

  "The papers are gone," she cried.

  "Impossible!" exclaimed Atherton, springing towards her.

  'Twas perfectly true, nevertheless. Further investigation showed thatthe documents must have been abstracted.

  "There is but one person who can have taken them," said Atherton. "Tothat person the importance of the papers would be known--nor would hehesitate to deprive me of the proofs of my birth."

  "I think you wrong him by these suspicions," said Constance--thoughher looks showed that she herself shared them. "What motive could hehave for such an infamous act?"

  "I cannot penetrate his motive, unless it is that he seeks to preventmy claim to the title and property. But malignant as he is, I couldscarcely have imagined he would proceed to such a length as this."

  "Granting you are right in your surmise, how can Father Jerome havediscovered the existence of the papers? You placed them in the cabinetyourself I presume, and the key has been in your own possession eversince."

  "True. But from him a lock would be no safeguard. If he knew thepapers were there, their removal would be easy. But he will notdestroy them, because their possession will give him the power hecovets, and no doubt he persuades himself he will be able to obtainhis own price for them. But I will force him to give them up."

  At this juncture the door was opened, and Monica, en
tering hastily,called out to Atherton:

  "Away at once, or you will be discovered. Father Jerome is cominghither. He has just left my mother's room."

  But the young man did not move.

  "I have something to say to him."

  "Do not say it now!" implored Constance.

  "No better opportunity could offer," rejoined Atherton. "I will taxhim with his villainy."

  "What does all this mean?" cried Monica, astonished and alarmed.

  But before any explanation could be given, the door again opened, andFather Jerome stood before them.

  CHAPTER VII.

  ATHERTON QUESTIONS THE PRIEST.

  The priest did not manifest any surprise on beholding Atherton, butsaluting him formally, said:

  "I did not expect to find you here, sir, or I should not haveintruded. But I will retire."

  "Stay!" cried Atherton. "I have a few questions to put to you. Firstlet me ask if you knew I was in the house?"

  "I fancied so," replied the priest--"though no one has told me yonwere here. I suppose it was thought best not to trust me," he added,glancing at Constance.

  "It was my wish that you should be kept in ignorance of the matter,"observed Atherton.

  "I am to understand, then, that you doubt me, sir," observed thepriest. "I am sorry for it. You do me a great injustice. I am mostanxious to serve you. Had I been consulted I should have deemed it myduty to represent to you the great risk you would run in taking refugehere--but I would have aided in your concealment, as I will do now;and my services may be called in question sooner, perhaps, than youimagine, for the house is likely to be searched."