St. George and St. Michael

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She had some difficulty in making Dick go slowly--quietly she could
not--for the first minute or two, as lord Herbert had directed. He
had had but little exercise of late, and moved as if his four legs
felt like wings. Dorothy had ridden him very little since she came
to the castle, but being very handy, lord Charles had used him, and
one of the grooms had always taken him to ride messages. He had
notwithstanding had but little of the pleasure of speed for a long
time, and when Dorothy at length gave him the rein, he flew as if
every member of his body from tail to ears and eyelids had been an
engine of propulsion. But Dorothy had more wings than Dick. Her
whole being was full of wings. It was a small thing that she had not
had a right gallop since she left Wyfern; the strength she had been
putting forth to bear the Atlas burden that night lifted from her
soul, was now left free to upbear her, and she seemed in spirit to
soar aloft into the regions of aether. With her horse under her, the
moon over her, "the wind of their own speed" around them, and her
heart beating with a joy such as she had never known, she could
hardly help doubting sometimes for a moment whether she was not out
in one of those delightful dreams of liberty and motion which had so
frequently visited her sleep since she came to Raglan. Three shrill
whistles she had blown, about a hundred yards from the gate, had
heard the eager crowded bark of her dog in answer, and then Dick
went flying over the fields like a water-bird over the lake, that
scratches its smooth surface with its feet as it flies. Around the
rampart they went. The still night was jubilant around them as they
flew. The stars shone as if they knew all about her joy, that the
shadow of guilt had been lifted from her, and that to her the world
again was fair. She felt as the freed Psyche must feel when she
drops the clay, and lo! the whole chrysalid world, which had
hitherto hung as a clog at her foot, fast by the inexorable chain
our blindness calls gravitation, has dropped from her with the clay,
and the universe is her own.

At intervals she blew her whistle, and ever kept her keen eyes and
ears awake, looking and listening before and behind, in the hope of
hearing her dog, or seeing him come bounding through the moonlight.

Meantime lord Herbert and his wife had taken their stand on the top
of the great tower, and were looking down--the lady into the stone
court, and her husband into the grass one. Dorothy's shrill whistle
came once, twice--and just as it began to sound a third time,

'Here he comes!' cried lady Margaret.

A black shadow went from the foot of the library tower, tearing
across the moonlight to the hall door, where it vanished. But in
vain lord Herbert kept his eyes on the fountain court, in the hope
of its reappearance there. Presently they heard a heavy plunge in
the water on the other side of the keep, and running round, saw
plainly, the moat there lying broad in the moonlight, a little black
object making its way across it. Through the obstructing floats of
water-lily-leaves, it held steadily over to the other side. There
for a moment they saw the whole body of the animal, as he scrambled
out of the water up against the steep side of the moat--when
suddenly, and most unaccountably to lady Margaret, he disappeared.

'I have it!' cried lord Herbert. 'What an ass I was not to think of
it before! Come down with me, my dove, and I will show thee.
Dorothy's Marquis hath got into the drain of the moat! He is a large
dog, and beyond a doubt that is where the young roundhead entered.
Who could have dreamed of such a thing! I had no thought it was such
a size.'

Dorothy, having made the circuit, and arrived again at the brick
gate, found lord Herbert waiting there, and pulled up.

'I have seen nothing of him, my lord,' she said, as he came to her
side. 'Shall I ride round once more?'

'Do, prithee, for I see thou dost enjoy it. But we have already
learned all we want to know, so far as goeth to the security of the
castle. There is but one marquis in Raglan, and he is, I believe, in
the oak parlour.'

'You saw my Marquis make his exit then, my lord?'

'My lady and I both saw him.'

'What then can have become of him?--We went very fast, and I
suppose he gave up the chase in despair.'

'Thou wilt find him the second round. But stay--I will get a horse
and go with thee.'

Dorothy went within the gate, and lord Herbert ran back to the
stables. In a few minutes he was by her side again, and together
they rode around the huge nest. The moon was glorious, with a few
large white clouds around her, like great mirrors hung up to catch
and reflect her light. The stars were few, and doubtful near the
moon, but shone like diamonds in the dark spaces between the clouds.
The rugged fortress lay swathed in the softness of the creamy light.
No noise broke the stillness, save the dull drum-beat of their
horses' hoofs on the turf, or their cymbal-clatter where they
crossed a road, and the occasional shrill call from Dorothy's
whistle.

On all sides the green fields, cow-cropped, divided by hedge-rows,
and spotted with trees, single and in clumps, came close to the
castle walls, except in one or two places where the corner of a red
ploughed field came wedging in. All was so quiet and so soft that
the gaunt old walls looked as if, having at first with harsh
intrusion forced their way up into the sweet realm of air from the
stony regions of the earth beneath, by slow degrees, yet long since,
they had suffered an air change, and been charmed and gentled into
harmony with soft winds and odours and moonlight. To Dorothy it
seemed as if peace itself had taken form in the feathery weight that
filled the flaky air; and as her horse galloped along, flying like a
bird over ditch and mound, her own heart so light that her body
seemed to float above the saddle rather than rest upon it, she felt
like a soul which, having been dragged to hell by a lurking fiend, a
good and strong angel was bearing aloft into bliss. Few delights can
equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.

No mastiff came to Dorothy's whistle, and having finished their
round, they rode back to the stables, put up their horses, and
rejoined lady Margaret, where she was still pacing the sunk walk
around the moat. There lord Herbert showed Dorothy where her dog
vanished, comforting her with the assurance that nothing should be
altered before the faithful animal returned, as doubtless he would
the moment he despaired of finding her in the open country.

Lord Herbert said nothing to his father that night lest he should
spoil his rest, for he was yet far from well, but finding him a good
deal better the next morning, he laid open the whole matter to him
according to his convictions concerning Dorothy and her behaviour,
ending with the words: 'That maiden, my lord, hath truth enough in
her heart to serve the whole castle, an' if it might be but shared.
To doubt her is to wrong the very light. I fear there are not many
maidens in England who would have the courage and honesty, necessary
both, to act as she hath done.'

The marquis listened attentively, and when lord Herbert had ended,
sat a few moments in silence; then, for all answer, said,

'Go and fetch her, my lad.'

When Dorothy entered,--

'Come hither, maiden,' he said from his chair. 'Wilt thou kiss an
old man who hath wronged thee--for so my son hath taught me?'

Dorothy stooped, and he kissed her on both cheeks, with the tears in
his eyes.

'Thou shalt dine at my table,' he said, 'an' thy mistress will
permit thee, as I doubt not she will when I ask her, until--thou,
art weary of our dull company. Hear me, cousin Dorothy: an' thou
wilt go with us to mass next Sunday, thou shalt sit on one side of
me and thy mistress on the other, and all the castle shall see thee
there, and shall know that thou art our dear cousin, mistress
Dorothy Vaughan, and shall do thee honour.'

'I thank you, my lord, with all my heart,' said Dorothy, with
troubled look, 'but--may I then speak without offence to your
lordship, where my heart knoweth nought but honour, love, and
obedience?'

'Speak what thou wilt, so it be what thou would'st,' answered the
marquis.

'Then pardon me, my lord, that which would have made my mother sad,
and would make my good master Herbert sorry that he brought me
hither. He would fear I had forsaken the church of my fathers.'

'And returned to the church of thy grandfathers--eh, mistress
Dorothy? And wherefore, then, should that weigh so much with thee,
so long as thou wert no traitor to our blessed Lord?'

'But should I be no traitor, sir, an' I served him not with my
best?'

'Thou hast nothing better than thy heart to give him, and nothing
worse will serve his turn; and that we two have offered where I
would have thee offer thine--and I trust, Herbert, the offering hath
not lain unaccepted.'

'I trust not, my lord,' responded Herbert.

'But, my lord,' said Dorothy, with hot cheek and trembling voice,
'if I brought it him upon a dish which I believed to be of brass,
when I had one of silver in the house, would it avail with him that
your lordship knew the dish to be no brass, but the finest of gold?
I should be unworthy of your lordship's favour, if, to be replaced
in the honour of men, I did that which needed the pardon of God.'

'I told thee so, sir!' cried lord Herbert, who had been listening
with radiant countenance.

'Thou art a good girl, Dorothy,' said the marquis. 'Verily I spoke
but to try thee, and I thank God thou hast stood the trial, and
answered aright. Now am I sure of thee; and I will no more doubt
thee--not if I wake in the night and find thee standing over me with
a drawn dagger like Judith. An' my worthy Bayly had been at home,
perchance this had not happened; but forgive me, Dorothy, for the
gout is the sting of the devil's own tail, and driveth men mad.
Verily, it seemeth now as if I could never have behaved to thee as I
have done. Why, one might say the foolish fat old man was jealous of
the handsome young puritan! The wheel will come round, Dorothy. One
day thou wilt marry him.'

'Never, my lord,' exclaimed Dorothy with vehemence.

'And when thou dost,' the marquis went on, 'all I beg of thee is,
that on thy wedding day thou whisper thy bridegroom: "My lord of
Worcester told me so;" and therewith thou shalt have my blessing,
whether I be down here in Raglan, or up the great stair with little
Molly.'

Dorothy was silent. The marquis held out his hand. She kissed it,
left the room, and flew to the top of the keep.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE HOROSCOPE.

Ere the next day was over, it was understood throughout the castle
that lord Herbert was constructing a horoscope--not that there were
many in the place who understood what a horoscope really was, or had
any knowledge of the modes of that astrology in whose results they
firmly believed; yet Kaltoff having been seen carrying several
mysterious-looking instruments to the top of the library tower, the
word was presently in everybody's mouth. Nor were the lovers of
marvel likely to be disappointed, for no sooner was the sun down
than there was lord Herbert, his head in an outlandish Persian hat,
visible over the parapet from the stone-court, while from some of
the higher windows in the grass-court might be seen through a
battlement his long flowing gown of a golden tint, wrought with
hieroglyphics in blue. Now he would stand for a while gazing up into
the heavens, now would be shifting and adjusting this or that
instrument, then peering along or through it, and then re-arranging
it, or kneeling and drawing lines, now circular, now straight, upon
a sheet of paper spread flat on the roof of the tower. There he
still was when the household retired to rest, and there, in the grey
dawn, his wife, waking up and peeping from her window, saw him
still, against the cold sky, pacing the roof with bent head and
thoughtful demeanour. In the morning he was gone, and no one but
lady Margaret saw him during the whole of the following day. Nor
indeed could any but herself or Caspar have found him, for the tale
Tom Fool told the rustics of a magically concealed armoury had been
suggested by a rumour current in the house, believed by all without
any proof, and yet not the less a fact, that lord Herbert had a
chamber of which none of the domestics knew door or window, or even
the locality. That recourse should have been had to spells and
incantations for its concealment, however, as was also commonly
accepted, would have seemed trouble unnecessary to any one who knew
the mechanical means his lordship had employed for the purpose. The
touch of a pin on a certain spot in one of the bookcases in the
library, admitted him to a wooden stair which, with the aid of
Caspar, he had constructed in an ancient disused chimney, and which
led down to a small chamber in the roof of a sort of porch built
over the stair from the stone-court to the stables. There was no
other access to it, and the place had never been used, nor had any
window but one which they had constructed in the roof so cunningly
as to attract no notice. All the household supposed the hidden
chamber, whose existence was unquestioned, to be in the great tower,
somewhere near the workshop.

In this place he kept his books of alchemy and magic, and some of
his stranger instruments. It would have been hard for himself even
to say what he did or did not believe of such things. In certain
moods, especially when under the influence of some fact he had just
discovered without being able to account for it, he was ready to
believe everything; in others, especially when he had just
succeeded, right or wrong, in explaining anything to his own
satisfaction, he doubted them all considerably. His imagination
leaned lovingly towards them; his intellect required proofs which he
had not yet found.

Hither then he had retired--to work out the sequences of the
horoscopes he had that night constructed. He was far less doubtful
of astrology than of magic. It would have been difficult, I suspect,
to find at that time a man who did not more or less believe in the
former, and the influence of his mechanical pursuits upon lord
Herbert's mind had not in any way interfered with his capacity for
such belief. In the present case, however, he trusted for success
rather to his knowledge of human nature than to his questioning of
the stars.

Before this, the second day, was over, it was everywhere whispered
that he was occupied in discovering the hidden way by which entrance
and exit had been found through the defences of the castle; and the
next day it was known by everybody that he had been successful--as
who could doubt he must, with such powers at his command?

For a time curiosity got the better of fear, and there was not a
soul in the place, except one bedridden old woman, who did not that
day accept lord Herbert's general invitation, and pass over the
Gothic bridge to see the opening from the opposite side of the moat.
To seal the conviction that the discovery had indeed been made,
permission was given to any one who chose to apply to it the test of
his own person, but of this only Shafto the groom availed himself.
It was enough, however: he disappeared, and while the group which
saw him enter the opening was yet anxiously waiting his return by
the way he had gone, having re-entered by the western gate he came
upon them from behind, to the no small consternation of those of
weaker nerves, and so settled the matter for ever.

As soon as curiosity was satisfied, lord Herbert gave orders which,
in the course of a few days, rendered the drain as impassable to
manor dog as the walls of the keep itself.

In the middle of the previous night, Marquis had returned, and
announced himself by scratching and whining for admittance at the
door of Dorothy's room. She let him in, but not until the morning
discovered that he had a handkerchief tied round his neck, and in it
a letter addressed to herself. Curious, perhaps something more than
curious, to open it, she yet carried it straight to lord Herbert.

'Canst not break the seal, Dorothy, that thou bringest it to me? I
will not read it first, lest thou repent,' said his lordship.

'Will you open it then, madam?' she said, turning to lady Margaret.

'What my lord will not, why should I?' rejoined her mistress.

Dorothy opened the letter without more ado, crimsoned, read it to
the end, and handed it again to lord Herbert.

'Pray read, my lord,' she said.

He took it, and read. It ran thus--

'Mistress Dorothy, I think, and yet I know not, but I think thou
wilt be pleased to learn that my Wound hath not proved mortal,
though it hath brought me low, yea, very nigh to Death's Door. Think
not I feared to enter. But it grieveth me to the Heart to ride
another than my own Mare to the Wars, and it will pleasure thee to
know that without my Lady I shall be but Half the Man I was. But do
thou the Like again when thou mayest, for thou but didst thy Duty
according to thy Lights; and according to what else should any one
do? Mistaken as thou art, I love thee as mine own Soul. As to the
Ring I left for thee, with a safe Messenger, concerning whom I say
Nothing, for thou wilt con her no Thanks for the doing of aught to
pleasure me, I restored it not because it was thine, for thy mother
gave it me, but because, if for Lack of my Mare I should fall in
some Battle of those that are to follow, then would the Ring pass to
a Hand whose Heart knew nought of her who gave it me. I am what thou
knowest not, yet thine old Play-fellow Richard.--When thou hearest
of me in the Wars, as perchance thou mayest, then curse me not, but
sigh an thou wilt, and say, he also would in his Blindness do the
Thing that lay at his Door. God be with thee, mistress Dorothy. Beat
not thy Dog for bringing thee this.

'RICHARD HEYWOOD.'

Lord Herbert gave the letter to his wife, and paced up and down the
room while she read. Dorothy stood silent, with glowing face and
downcast eyes. When lady Margaret had finished it she handed it to
her, and turned to her husband with the words,--

'What sayest thou, Ned? Is it not a brave epistle?'

'There is matter for thought therein,' he answered. 'Wilt show me
the ring whereof he writes, cousin?'

'I never had it, my lord.'

'Whom thinkest thou then he calleth his safe messenger? Not thy
dog--plainly, for the ring had been sent thee before.'

'My lord, I cannot even conjecture,' answered Dorothy.

'There is matter herein that asketh attention. My lady, and cousin
Dorothy, not a word of all this until I shall have considered what
it may import!--Beat not thy dog, Dorothy: that were other than he
deserveth at thy hand. But he is a dangerous go-between, so prithee
let him be at once chained up.'

'I will not beat him, my lord, and I will chain him up,' answered
Dorothy, laughing.

Having then announced the discovery of the hidden passage, and given
orders concerning it, lord Herbert retired yet again to his secret
chamber, and that night was once more seen of many consulting the
stars from the top of the library tower.

The following morning another rumour was abroad--to the effect that
his lordship was now occupied in questioning the stars as to who in
the castle had aided the young roundhead in making his escape.

In the evening, soon after supper, there came a gentle tap to the
door of lady Margaret's parlour. At that time she was understood to
be disengaged, and willing to see any of the household. Harry
happened to be with her, and she sent him to the door to see who it
was.

'It is Tom Fool,' he said, returning. 'He begs speech of you,
madam--with a face as long as the baker's shovel, and a mouth as
wide as an oven-door.'

With their Irish stepmother the children took far greater freedoms
than would have been permitted them by the jealous care of their own
mother over their manners.

Lady Margaret smiled: this was probably the first fruit of her
husband's astrological investigations.

'Tell him he may enter, and do thou leave him alone with me, Harry,'
she said.

Allowing for exaggeration, Harry had truly reported Tom's
appearance. He was trembling from head to foot, and very white.

'What aileth thee, Tom, that thou lookest as thou had seen a
hobgoblin?' said lady Margaret.

'Please you, my lady,' answered Tom, 'I am in mortal terror of my
lord Herbert.'

'Then hast thou been doing amiss, Tom? for no well-doer ever yet was
afeard of my lord. Comest thou because thou wouldst confess the
truth?'

'Ah, my lady,' faltered Tom.

'Come, then; I will lead thee to my lord.'

'No, no, an't please you, my lady!' cried Tom, trembling yet more.
'I will confess to you, my lady, and then do you confess to my lord,
so that he may forgive me.'

'Well, I will venture so far for thee, Tom,' returned her ladyship;
'that is, if thou be honest, and tell me all.'

Thus encouraged, Tom cleansed his stuffed bosom, telling all the
part he had borne in Richard's escape, even to the disclosure of the
watchword to his mother.

Is there not this peculiarity about the fear of the supernatural,
even let it be of the lowest and most slavish kind, that under it
men speak the truth, believing that alone can shelter them?

Lady Margaret dismissed him with hopes of forgiveness, and going
straight to her husband in his secret chamber, amused him largely
with her vivid representation, amounting indeed to no sparing
mimicry of Tom's looks and words as he made his confession.

Here was much gained, but Tom had cast no ray of light upon the
matter of Dorothy's imprisonment. The next day lord Herbert sent for
him to his workshop, where he was then alone. He appeared in a state
of abject terror.

'Now, Tom,' said his lordship, 'hast thou made a clean breast of
it?'

'Yes, my lord,' answered Tom; 'there is but one thing more.'

'What is that? Out with it.'

'As I went back to my chamber, at the top of the stair leading down
from my lord's dining parlour to the hall, commonly called my lord's
stair,' said Tom, who delighted in the pseudo-circumstantial, 'I
stopped to recover my breath, of the which I was sorely bereft, and
kneeling on the seat of the little window that commands the archway
to the keep, I saw the prisoner--'

'How knewest thou the prisoner ere it was yet daybreak, and that in
the darkest corner of all the court?'

'I knew him by the way my bones shook at the white sleeves of his
shirt, my lord,' said Tom, who was too far gone in fear to make the
joke of pretending courage.

'Hardly evidence, Tom. But go on.'

'And with him I saw mistress Dorothy--'

'Hold there, Tom!' cried lord Herbert. 'Wherefore didst not impart
this last night to my lady?'

'Because my lady loveth mistress Dorothy, and I dreaded she would
therefore refuse to believe me.'

'What a heap of cunning goes to the making of a downright fool!'
said lord Herbert to himself, but so as Tom could not fail to hear
him. 'And what saw'st thou pass between them?' he asked.

'Only a whispering with their heads together,' answered Tom.

'And what heard'st thou?'

'Nothing, my lord.'

'And what followed?'

'The roundhead left her, and went through the archway. She stood a
moment and then followed him. But I, fearful of her coming up the
stair and finding me, gat me quickly to my own place.'

'Oh, Tom, Tom! I am ashamed of thee. What! Afraid of a woman?
Verily, thy heart is of wax.'

'That can hardly be, my lord, for I find it still on the wane.'

'An' thy wit were no better than thy courage, thou hadst never had
enough to play the fool with.'

'No, my lord; I should have had to turn philosopher.'

'A fair hit, Tom! But tell me, why wast thou afeard of mistress
Dorothy?'

'It might have come to a quarrel in some sort, my lord; and there is
one thing I have remarked in my wanderings through this valley of
Baca' said Tom, speaking through his nose, and lengthening his face
beyond even its own nature, 'namely, that he who quarrels with a
woman goes ever to the wall.'

'One thing perplexes me, Tom: if thou sawest mistress Dorothy in the
court with the roundhead, how came she thereafter, thinkest thou,
locked up in his chamber?'

'It behoves that she went into it again, my lord.'

'How knowest thou she had been there before?'

'Nay, I know not, my lord. I know nothing of the matter.'

'Why say'st it then? Take heed to thy words, Tom. Who then, thinkest
thou, did lock the door upon her?'

'I know not, my lord, and dare hardly say what I think. But let your
lordship's wisdom determine whether it might not be one of those
demons whereof the house hath been full ever since that night when I
saw them rise from the water of the moat--that even now surrounds
us, my lord!--and rush into the fountain court.'

'Meddle thou not, even in thy thoughts, with things that are beyond
thee,' said lord Herbert. 'By what signs knewest thou mistress
Dorothy in the dark as she stood talking to the roundhead?'

'There was light enough to know woman from man, my lord.'

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