St. George and St. Michael

G >> George MacDonald >> St. George and St. Michael

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36

'Tom! Tom! thou liest,' said the marquis. 'Thou wast running as if
all the devils in hell had been at thy heels.'

Tom turned deadly pale, a fresh access of terror overcoming his
new-born hardihood.

'Who were they, thinkest thou, whom thou sawest in the water, Tom?'
resumed his master. 'For what didst thou take them?'

Tom shook his head with an awful significance, looked behind him,
and said nothing.

Perceiving there was no more to be got out of him, the marquis sent
him to bed. He went off shivering and shaking. Three times ere he
reached the watch-tower his face gleamed white over his shoulder as
he went. The next day he did not appear. He thought himself he was
doomed, but his illness was only the prostration following upon
terror.

In the version of the story which he gave his fellow-servants, he
doubtless mingled the after visions of his bed with what he had when
half-awake seen and heard through the mists of his startled
imagination. His tale was this--that he saw the moat swell and rise,
boil over in a mass, and tumble into the court as full of devils as
it could hold, swimming in it, floating on it, riding it aloft as if
it had been a horse; that in a moment they had all vanished again,
and that he had not a doubt the castle was now swarming with
them--in fact, he had heard them all the night long.

The marquis walked up to the archway, saw nothing save the grim wall
of the keep, impassive as granite crag, and the ground wet a long
way towards the white horse; and never doubting he had lost his
chance by taking Tom for the culprit, contented himself with the
reflection that, whoever the night-walkers were, they had received
both a fright and a ducking, and betook himself to bed, where,
falling asleep at length, he saw little Molly in the arms of mother
Mary, who, presently changing to his own lady Anne that left him
about a year before little Molly came, held out a hand to him to
help him up beside them, whereupon the bubble sleep, unable to hold
the swelling of his gladness, burst, and he woke just as the first
rays of the sun smote the gilded cock on the bell-tower.

The noise of the falling drawbridge and the out-rushing water had
roused Dorothy also, with most of the lighter sleepers in the
castle; but when she and all the rest whose windows were to the
fountain court, ran to them and looked out, they saw nothing but the
flight of Tom Fool across the turf, its arrest by his master, and
their following conference. The moon had broken through the clouds,
and there was no mistaking either of their persons.

Meantime, inside the chapel door stood Amanda and Rowland, both
dripping, and one of them crying as well. Thither, as into a safe
harbour, the sudden flood had cast them; and it indicated no small
amount of ready faculty in Scudamore that, half-stunned as he was,
he yet had the sense, almost ere he knew where he was, to put up the
long bar that secured the door.

All the time that the marquis was drawing his story from Tom, they
stood trembling, in great bewilderment yet very sensible misery,
bruised, drenched, and horribly frightened, more even at what might
be than by what had been. There was only one question, but that was
hard to answer: what were they to do next? Amanda could contribute
nothing towards its solution, for tears and reproaches resolve no
enigmas. There were many ways of issue, whereof Rowland knew
several; but their watery trail, if soon enough followed, would be
their ruin as certainly as Hop-o'-my-Thumb's pebbles were safety to
himself and his brothers. He stood therefore the very bond slave of
perplexity, 'and, like a neutral to his will and matter, did
nothing.'

Presently they heard the approaching step of the marquis, which
every one in the castle knew. It stopped within a few feet of them,
and through the thick door they could hear his short asthmatic
breathing.

They kept as still as their trembling, and the mad beating of their
hearts, would permit. Amanda was nearly out of her senses, and
thought her heart was beating against the door, and not against her
own ribs. But the marquis never thought of the chapel, having at
once concluded that they had fled through the open hall. Had he not,
however, been so weary and sad and listless, he would probably have
found them, for he would at least have crossed the hall to look into
the next court, and, the moon now shining brightly, the absence of
all track on the floor where the traces of the brief inundation
ceased, would have surely indicated the direction in which they had
sought refuge.

The acme of terror happily endured but a moment. The sound of his
departing footsteps took the ghoul from their hearts; they began to
breathe, and to hope that the danger was gone. But they waited long
ere at last they ventured, like wild animals overtaken by the
daylight, to creep out of their shelter and steal back like
shadows--but separately, Amanda first, and Scudamore some slow
minutes after--to their different quarters. The tracks they could
not help leaving in-doors were dried up before the morning.

Rowland had greater reason to fear discovery than any one else in
the castle, save one, would in like circumstances have had, and that
one was his bedfellow in the ante-chamber to his master's bedroom.
Through this room his lordship had to pass to reach his own; but so
far was he from suspecting Rowland, or indeed any gentleman of his
retinue, that he never glanced in the direction of his bed, and so
could not discover that he was absent from it. Had Rowland but
caught a glimpse of his own figure as he sneaked into that room five
minutes after the marquis had passed through it, believing his
master was still in his study, where he had left his candles
burning, he could hardly for some time have had his usual success in
regarding himself as a fine gentleman.

Amanda Serafina did not show herself for several days. A bad cold in
her head luckily afforded sufficient pretext for the concealment of
a bad bruise upon her cheek. Other bruises she had also, but they,
although more severe, were of less consequence.

For a whole fortnight the lovers never dared exchange a word.

In the morning the marquis was in no mood to set any inquiry on
foot. His little lamb had vanished from his fold, and he was sad and
lonely. Had it been otherwise, possibly the shabby doublet in which
Scudamore stood behind his chair the next morning, might have set
him thinking; but as it was, it fell in so well with the gloom in
which his own spirit shrouded everything, that he never even marked
the change, and ere long Rowland began to feel himself safe.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AMANDA--DOROTHY--LORD HERBERT.

So also did Amanda; but not the less did she cherish feelings of
revenge against her whom she more than suspected of having been the
contriver of her harmful discomfiture. She felt certain that Dorothy
had laid the snare into which they had fallen, with the hope if not
the certainty of catching just themselves two in it, and she read in
her, therefore, jealousy and cruelty as well as coldness and
treachery. Rowland on the other hand was inclined to attribute the
mishap to the displeasure of lord Herbert, whose supernatural
acquirements, he thought, had enabled him both to discover and
punish their intrusion. Amanda, nevertheless, kept her own opinion,
and made herself henceforth all eyes and ears for Dorothy, hoping
ever to find a chance of retaliating, if not in kind yet in
plentiful measure of vengeance. Dorothy's odd ways, lawless
movements, and what the rest of the ladies counted her vulgar
tastes, had for some time been the subject of remark to the
gossiping portion of the castle community; and it seemed to Amanda
that in watching and discovering what she was about when she
supposed herself safe from the eyes of her equals and superiors, lay
her best chance of finding a mode of requital. Nor was she satisfied
with observation, but kept her mind busy on the trail, now of one,
now of another vague-bodied revenge.

The charge of low tastes was founded upon the fact that there was
not an artisan about the castle, from Caspar downwards, whom Dorothy
did not know and address by his name; but her detractors, in drawing
their conclusions from it, never thought of finding any related
significance in another fact, namely, that there was not a single
animal either, of consequence enough to have a name, which did not
know by it. There were very few of the animals indeed which did not
know her in return, if not by her name, yet by her voice or her
presence--some of them even by her foot or her hand. She would
wander about the farmyard and stables for an hour at a time,
visiting all that were there, and specially her little horse, which
she had long, oh, so long ago! named Dick, nor had taken his name
from him any more than from Marquis.

The charge of lawlessness in her movements was founded on another
fact as well, namely, that she was often seen in the court after
dusk, and that not merely in running across to the keep, as she
would be doing at all hours, but loitering about, in full view of
the windows. It was not denied that this took place only when the
organ was playing--but then who played the organ? Was not the poor
afflicted boy, barring the blank of his eyes, beautiful as an angel?
And was not mistress Dorothy too deep to be fathomed? And so the
tattling streams flowed on, and the ears of mistress Amanda
willingly listened to their music, nor did she disdain herself to
contribute to the reservoir in which those of the castle whose souls
thirsted after the minutiae of live biography, accumulated their
stores of fact and fiction, conjecture and falsehood.

Lord Herbert came home to bury his little one, and all that was left
behind of her was borne to the church of St. Cadocus, the parish
church of Raglan, and there laid beside the marquis's father and
mother. He remained with them a fortnight, and his presence was much
needed to lighten the heavy gloom that had settled over both his
wife and his father.

As if it were not enough to bury the bodies of the departed, there
are many, and the marquis and his daughter-in-law were of the
number, who in a sense seek to bury their souls as well, making a
graveyard of their own spirits, and laying the stone of silence over
the memory of the dead. Such never speak of them but when compelled,
and then almost as if to utter their names were an act of impiety.
Not In Memoriam but In Oblivionem should be the inscription upon the
tombs they raise. The memory that forsakes the sunlight, like the
fishes in the underground river, loses its eyes; the cloud of its
grief carries no rainbow; behind the veil of its twin-future burns
no lamp fringing its edges with the light of hope. I can better,
however, understand the hopelessness of the hopeless than their
calmness along with it. Surely they must be upheld by the presence
within them of that very immortality, against whose aurora they shut
to their doors, then mourn as if there were no such thing.

Radiant as she was by nature, lady Margaret, when sorrow came, could
do little towards her own support. The marquis said to himself, 'I
am growing old, and cannot smile at grief so well as once on a day.
Sorrow is a hawk more fell than I had thought.' The name of little
Molly was never mentioned between them. But sudden floods of tears
were the signs of the mother's remembrance; and the outbreak of
ambushed sighs, which he would make haste to attribute to the gout,
the signs of the grandfather's.

Dorothy, too, belonged in tendency to the class of the unspeaking.
Her nature was not a bright one. Her spirit's day was evenly, softly
lucent, like one of those clouded calm grey mornings of summer,
which seem more likely to end in rain than sunshine.

Lord Herbert was of a very different temperament. He had hope enough
in his one single nature to serve the whole castle, if only it could
have been shared. The veil between him and the future glowed as if
on fire with mere radiance, and about to vanish in flame. It was not
that he more than one of the rest imagined he could see through it.
For him it was enough that beyond it lay the luminous. His eyes, to
those that looked on him, were lighted with its reflex.

Such as he, are, by those who love them not, misjudged as shallow.
Depth to some is indicated by gloom, and affection by a persistent
brooding--as if there were no homage to the past of love save sighs
and tears. When they meet a man whose eyes shine, whose step is
light, on whose lips hovers a smile, they shake their heads and say,
'There goes one who has never loved, and who therefore knows not
sorrow.' And the man is one of those over whom death has no power;
whom time nor space can part from those he loves; who lives in the
future more than in the past! Has not his being ever been for the
sake of that which was yet to come? Is not his being now for the
sake of that which it shall be? Has he not infinitely more to do
with the great future than the little past? The Past has descended
into hell, is even now ascending glorified, and will, in returning
cycle, ever and again greet our faith as the more and yet more
radiant Future.

But even lord Herbert had his moments of sad longing after his
dainty Molly. Such moments, however, came to him, not when he was at
home with his wife, but when he rode alone by his troops on a night
march, or when, upon the eve of an expected battle, he sought sleep
that he might fight the better on the morrow.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GREAT MOGUL.

One evening, Tom Fool, and a groom, his particular friend, were
taking their pastime after a somewhat selfish fashion, by no means
newly discovered in the castle--that of teasing the wild beasts.
There was one in particular, a panther, which, in a special dislike
to grimaces, had discovered a special capacity for being teased.
Betwixt two of the bars of his cage, therefore, Tom was busy
presenting him with one hideous puritanical face after another, in
full expectation of a satisfactory outburst of feline rancour. But
to their disappointment, the panther on this occasion seemed to have
resolved upon a dignified resistance to temptation, and had
withdrawn in sultry displeasure to the back of his cage, where he
lay sideways, deigning to turn neither his back nor his face towards
the inferior animal, at whom to cast but one glance, he knew, would
be to ruin his grand Oriental sulks, and fly at the hideous
ape-visage insulting him in his prison. It was tiresome of the
brute. Tom Fool grew more daring and threw little stones at him, but
the panther seemed only to grow the more imperturbable, and to heed
his missiles as little as his grimaces.

At length, proceeding from bad to worse, as is always the way with
fools, born or made, Tom betook himself to stronger measures.

The cages of the wild beasts were in the basement of the kitchen
tower, with a little semicircular yard of their own before them.
They were solid stone vaults, with open fronts grated with huge iron
bars--our ancestors, whatever were their faults, did not err in the
direction of flimsiness. Between two of these bars, then, Tom,
having procured a long pole, proceeded to poke at the beast; but he
soon found that the pole thickened too rapidly towards the end he
held, to pass through the bars far enough to reach him. Thereupon,
in utter fool-hardiness, backed by the groom, he undid the door a
little way, and, his companion undertaking to prevent it from
opening too far, pushed in the pole till it went right in the
creature's face. One hideous yell--and neither of them knew what was
occurring till they saw the tail of the panther disappearing over
the six-foot wall that separated the cages from the stableyard. Tom
fled at once for the stair leading up to the stone-court, while the
groom, whose training had given him a better courage, now
supplemented by the horror of possible consequences, ran to warn the
stablemen and get help to recapture the animal.

The uproariest tumult of maddest barking which immediately arose
from the chained dogs, entered the ears of all in the castle, at
least every one possessed of dog-sympathies, and penetrated even
those of the rather deaf host of the White Horse in Raglan village.
Dorothy, sitting in her room, of course, heard it, and hearing it,
equally of course, hurried to see what was the matter. The marquis
heard it where he sat in his study, but was in no such young haste
as Dorothy: it was only after a little, when he found the noise
increase, and certain other sounds mingle with it, that he rose in
some anxiety and went to discover the cause.

Halfway across the stone court, Dorothy met Tom running, and the
moment she saw his face, knew that something serious had happened.

'Get indoors, mistress,' he said, almost rudely, 'the devil is to
pay down in the yard.' and ran on. 'Shut your door, master cook,'
she heard him cry as he ran. 'The Great Mogul is out.'

And as she ran too, she heard the door of the kitchen close with a
great bang.

But Dorothy was not running after the fool, or making for any door
but that at the bottom of the library tower; for the first terror
that crossed her mind was the possible fate of Dick, and the first
comfort that followed, the thought of Marquis; so she was running
straight for the stable-yard, where the dogs, to judge by the way
they tore their throats with barking, seemed frantic with rage.

No doubt the panther, when he cleared the wall, hoped exultant to
find himself in the savage forest, instead of which he came down on
the top of a pump, fell on the stones, and the same instant was
caught in a hurricane of canine hate. A little hurt and a good deal
frightened, for he had not endured such long captivity without
debasement, he glared around him with sneaking enquiry. But the
walls were lofty and he saw no gate, and feeling unequal at the
moment to the necessary spring, he crept almost like a snake under
what covert seemed readiest, and disappeared--just as the groom
entering by a door in one of the walls began to look about for him
in a style wherein caution predominated. Seeing no trace of him, and
concluding that, as he had expected, the clamour of the dogs had
driven him further, he went on, crossing the yard to find the men,
whose voices he heard on the green at the back of the rick-yard,
when suddenly he found that his arm was both broken and torn. The
sight of the blood completed the mischief, and he fell down in a
swoon.

Meantime Dorothy had reached the same door in the wall of the
stableyard, and peeping in saw nothing but the dogs raging and
RUGGING at their chains as if they would drag the earth itself after
them to reach the enemy. She was one of those on whose wits, usually
sedate in their motions, all sorts of excitement, danger amongst the
rest, operate favourably. When she specially noticed the fury of
Marquis, the same moment she perceived the danger in which he, that
was, all the dogs, would be, if the panther should attack them one
by one on the chain; not one of them had a chance. With the thought,
she sped across the space between her and Marquis, who--I really
cannot say WHICH concerning such a dog--was fortunately not very far
from the door. Feeling him a little safer now that she stood by his
side, she resumed her ocular search for the panther, or any further
sign of his proximity, but with one hand on the dog's collar, ready
in an instant to seize it with both, and unclasp it.

Nor had she to look long, for all the dogs were straining their
chains in one direction, and all their lines converged upon a little
dark shed, where stood a cart: under the cart, between its lower
shafts, she caught a doubtful luminousness, as if the dark while yet
dark had begun to throb with coming light. This presently seemed to
resolve itself, and she saw, vaguely but with conviction, two huge
lamping cat-eyes. I will not say she felt no fear, but she was not
terrified, for she had great confidence in Marquis. One moment she
stood bethinking herself, and one glance she threw at the spot where
her mastiff's chain was attached to his collar: she would fain have
had him keep the latter to defend his neck and throat: but alas! it
was as she knew well enough before--the one was riveted to the
other, and the two must go together.

And now first, as she raised her head from the momentary inspection,
she saw the groom lying on the ground within a few yards of the
shed. Her first thought was that the panther had killed him, but ere
a second had time to rise in her mind, she saw the terrible animal
creeping out from under the cart, with his chin on the ground, like
the great cat he was, and making for the man.

The brute had got the better of his fall, and finding he was not
pursued, the barking of the dogs, to which in moderation he was
sufficiently accustomed, had ceased to confuse him, he had recovered
his awful self, and was now scenting prey. Had the man made a single
movement he would have been upon him like lightning; but the few
moments he took in creeping towards him, gave Dorothy all the time
she needed. With resolute, though trembling hands, she undid
Marquis's collar.

The instant he was free, the fine animal went at the panther
straight and fast like a bolt from a cross-bow. But Dorothy loved
him too well to lose a moment in sending even a glance after him.
Leaving him to his work, she flew to hers, which lay at the next
kennel, that of an Irish wolf-hound, whose curling lip showed his
long teeth to the very root, and whose fury had redoubled at the
sight of his rival shooting past him free for the fight. So wildly
did he strain upon his collar, that she found it took all her
strength to unclasp it. In a much shorter time, however, than she
fancied, O'Brien too was on the panther, and the sounds of
cano-feline battle seemed to fill every cranny of her brain.

But now she heard the welcome cries of men and clatter of weapons.
Some, alarmed by Tom Fool, came rushing from the guard-rooms down
the stair, and others, chiefly farm-servants and grooms, who had
heard the frightful news from two that were in the yard when the
panther bounded over the wall, were approaching from the opposite
side, armed with scythes and pitchforks, the former more dangerous
to their bearers than to the beast.

Dorothy, into whom, girl as she was, either Bellona or Diana, or
both, had entered, was now thoroughly excited by the conflict she
ruled, although she had not wasted a moment in watching it. Having
just undone the collar of the fourth dog, she was hounding him on
with a cry, little needed, as she flew to let go the fifth, a small
bull-terrier, mad with rage and jealousy, when the crowd swept
between her and her game. The beast was captured, and the dogs taken
off him, ere the terrier had had a taste or Dorothy a glimpse of the
battle.

As the men with cart-ropes dragged the panther away, terribly torn
by the teeth of the dogs, and Tom Fool was following them, with his
hands in his pockets, looking sheepish because of the share he had
had in letting him loose, and the share he had not had in securing
him again, Dorothy was looking about for her friend Marquis. All at
once he came bounding up to her, and, exultant in the sense of
accomplished duty, leaped up against her, at once turning her into a
sanguineous object frightful to behold; for his wounds were bad,
although none of them were serious except one in his throat. This
upon examination she found so severe that to replace his collar was
out of the question. Telling him therefore to follow her, in the
confidence that she might now ask for him what she would, she left
the yard, went up the stair, and was crossing the stone court with
the trusty fellow behind her, making a red track all the way, when
out of the hall came the marquis, looking a little frightened. He
started when he saw her, and turned pale, but perceiving instantly
from her look that, notwithstanding the condition of her garments,
she was unhurt, he cast a glance at her now rather
disreputable-looking attendant, and said,

'I told you so, mistress Dorothy! Now I understand! It is that
precious mastiff of yours, and no panther of mine, that has been
making this uproar in my quiet house! Nay, but he looks evil enough
for any devil's work! Prithee keep him off me.'

He drew back, for the dog, not liking the tone in which he addressed
his mistress, had taken a step nearer to him.

'My lord,' said Dorothy, as she laid hold of the animal, for the
first and only time in her life a little inclined to be angry with
her benefactor, 'you do my poor Marquis wrong. At the risk of his
own life he has just saved your lordship's groom, Shafto, from being
torn in pieces by the Great Mogul.'

While she spoke, some of those of the garrison who had been engaged
in securing the animal came up into the court, and attracted the
marquis's attraction by their approach, which, in the relaxation of
discipline consequent on excitement, was rather tumultuous. At their
head was lord Charles, who had led them to the capture, and without
whose ruling presence the enemy would not have been re-caged in
twice the time. As they drew near, and saw Dorothy stand in
battle-plight, with her dog beside her, even in their lord's
presence they could not resist the impulse to cheer her. Annoyed at
their breach of manners, the marquis had not however committed
himself to displeasure ere he spied a joke:

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36