the King's suite of apartments. "My heartiest sympathy goes with you. A
man with so brave a sister will surely go bravely to his death. And
there will come a time when that is all that the best of us can ask to
do."
Churchill spoke the truth; the brave brother of a brave sister met his
death with unshrinking fortitude, cheered to the last by the presence of
Hannah, and by her sisterly love and care.
No thought of personal fatigue or personal peril sufficed to prevent her
returning instantly to Taunton, and the last days of Benjamin's short
life were rendered almost happy to him by his reunion with his twin
sister, and by their constant intercourse.
Money could purchase this boon, though it could not purchase the
prisoner's life.
He suffered upon the scaffold with so many others as little guilty as he
of doing wrong, albeit something rash and ill-advised, and when Hannah
had obtained with trouble and much cost the right to take his body and
bury it, as in the case of William, she had only to return home to tell
her mother the terrible and mournful tale.
"But thy courage sweetened death for them both, my child," said the
mother. "In days to come that will be a thought that will bring to thee
the comfort thou canst not feel yet."
"I never felt brave," Hannah would answer simply, when her friends
praised her. "I only did what I had to do. I could not help myself."
MONA DRUMMOND
"You are a villain!" spoke the hot-tempered Irish maiden, with a glow in
her eyes before which the evil-looking man before her quailed, although
the scowl upon his face was an ugly thing to see. "You are a thief and a
villain, and I will see the Governor myself and tell him what you have
been doing. Oh, it is infamous!--infamous! My poor father!"
The girl put her hands before her eyes for a moment to hide the tears
that rose to them. Mona had the tall, graceful figure, regular noble
features, and great grey eyes of the typical Irish maiden. She was
standing beneath the walls, and within the precincts of, Lifford gaol.
Before her was a man of evil aspect, who wore the dress of a gaoler, and
who swung a great bundle of keys in his hand. He had come forward
confidently enough to meet the girl, smiling and almost cringing; but
when she suddenly blazed forth at him in this impetuous fashion, he
shrank and cowered before her as though he knew himself guilty of some
dire offence.
"You have been taking our money all these years--money so hardly
earned--so sorely spared; you have sworn that you spent it in providing
better food and lodging for my dear father; and all the while you
lied!--you lied! Black-hearted villain that you are! He has never been
the better for it by one loaf of bread--by one flask of wine. You have
stolen every coin. You have defrauded him and lied to us!"
The girl was shaken by the storm of her anger. The man stood before her
tongue-tied and cowed.
He was not ashamed of his villainy; he was too hardened a wretch for
that; but he was afraid lest the thing should become known to the
Governor, who was a just and humane man, and who from time to time had
been known to admit the prisoner's daughter to his presence at her
earnest request.
"I am going to see the Governor about it," concluded the girl, with a
scathing look. "He is a just man and merciful. He will at least know
what to advise us for the future."
Fury and terror filled the man's face; he recoiled a little, and
fingered his heavy keys as though he meditated a savage assault upon the
girl, standing before him in this great solitary courtyard. What if he
silenced her voice for ever? Who would be the wiser? He shot a quick
glance round him, as if to assure himself that there were no eyes upon
him, and Mona at the same moment gave a half-scared, half-defiant gaze
around herself. Some instinct warned her of his fell purpose, and she
knew she was no match for him; but to quail or cower would but bring
down the meditated blow upon her head. She stood with her clear gaze
full upon his eyes, holding them, as men in the wilderness can sometimes
hold a wild beast in thrall by the fixed stare of unwavering will.
She was not many paces from the little door by which she had entered. If
she could gain that, she might be able to turn and fly. She made one
backward step towards it; but even as she moved, she felt rather than
saw that he was in the act of springing; and at that she darted
backwards, tore open the door, and was through it before he could reach
her. But she could not close it behind her to draw the bolt. He was too
quick for that. She almost felt his hands at her throat, when suddenly
she heard him utter a yell of terror; and turning saw him struggling in
the grip of a tall and powerful young man, who must have been coming
towards the door close under the wall, for she had not seen him as she
darted out, and yet he had been there to catch her pursuer as he
followed.
The terror of the man surprised Mona, as did also the fact that he made
no resistance when once he saw into whose hands he had fallen. His arms
dropped to his sides, and his jaw fell; he stood staring at the young
athlete who had him in his grip as though bereft of sense.
"My father shall hear of this, sirrah!" spoke the youth with a final
shake, as he let the wretch go; then he turned to Mona, and doffed his
hat with a courtly air.
"He has not hurt you, fair maid, I trust!"
"Oh no, dear sir, I am not hurt. I thank you from my heart for this
timely aid."
"And what do you in this gloomy place, if I may ask the question? What
errand has brought so fair a flower within the portals of a prison?"
At that question Mona's eyes filled with sudden tears, and she turned
away her head to hide them.
"Alas, dear sir! mine is a sorrowful errand, and I have not been able to
accomplish it; for we have been basely tricked and cozened these many
years by yonder miscreant, who is slinking now away like a whipped
hound. I would fain see the good Governor, and tell my tale of woe to
him. He was kind before, it may be he will find a way to help me now."
"I am his son," answered the young man eagerly. "I will take you to him
speedily; and as we go you shall tell me your sad tale. Believe me, I
will befriend you if I can. Have you some relative immured within the
walls of this grim place?"
"Alas, sir, my father!" she answered with brimming eyes; "and he has
been here so many long, weary years. I was but little more than a child
when they took him away and brought him hither, and now I am within a
year of twenty summers. My poor father!--my poor innocent father!"
"Of what crime does he stand accused?" asked the young man, with ready
interest.
"Of no crime save that of holding the Presbyterian faith," she answered;
"that is all the wrong he has done--believing it and teaching it; for he
is a minister of the Word, and our church at Raphoe was his charge, and
we were happy and he was beloved of all. But you must know how when the
King was restored to his kingdom over the water after the death of the
iron Cromwell, he or his ministers issued edicts in this land, as well
as in England and Scotland, for the re-establishment of the Prelacy; and
those who desire to worship after their own fashion, and not according
to episcopal forms, are sorely beset and persecuted."
"I know, I know," answered her companion quickly and with sympathy. "And
so your father was one of those who suffered for his faith?"
"Yes, there were four of them," answered Mona, her tongue unloosed by
the friendliness of this stranger, "and Bishop Leslie had them all cast
into prison at the same time. They lie in this grim jail; and God alone
knows when they will be suffered to come forth. But we heard that the
prisoners here were harshly treated, and had scarcely the necessaries
of life supplied them. It was after hearing this that I went one day and
craved speech of the Governor. I did first beg him to let me see my dear
father; but that he might not permit. He said, however, that I might
speak with the jailer who had charge of him, and obtain through him such
things as we could make shift to purchase for him to lessen his
privations and sufferings. The man promised faithfully, and every penny
we can spare has been scraped and hoarded and given over to him; and we
believed that father had such comforts as they could get for him; we
believed that till a few days ago; and then--and then----" The girl's
voice grew husky, the bright tears rolled down her cheeks. Her companion
took the words out of her mouth.
"You heard in some roundabout fashion that your money had gone into the
pockets of that wretch, and that your father had in no wise profited
thereby."
"Yes, yes; that was it. One of our friends has obtained his liberty;
they say there is hope that others will follow. We saw him. He came to
us. He has now and then had a brief moment of speech with my dear
father. Nothing has ever reached him from without. He has suffered all
the rigours of his harsh captivity."
"And you did have the bravery to go to yon miscreant who has had the
charge of your father, here in this prison, and who has appropriated
the money, and tell him of his ill-deeds; and this it was that wakened
his evil passions and ferocity? This it was that made him chase you
forth, and seek to do you hurt!"
"I told him I would tell the Governor," panted Mona, with hot, indignant
eyes; "and then I saw that he would fly at me; and so I sought to reach
the door ere he had time. But he would have done me a mischief had it
not been for your good help."
"Then come now to my father and tell him all the tale," cried the young
man, whose name was Derrick Adair, "and we will see if some way cannot
be found for mending matters for your good father. At least that rogue
of a jailer shall receive his due reward--or punishment!"
Colonel Adair, the Governor, who had been kind to Mona before, listened
very readily now to her tale, and was exceedingly displeased at what he
heard as to the action of the warder. Of course he knew well the abuses
that prevailed in all prisons at this epoch, and long afterwards; but
though enable to institute any drastic measures of reform, he was able
to punish individual transgressors when peculation had been proved
against them; and he told Mona that he would see in future that her alms
were rightly bestowed for the relief of the prisoner, adding that he
hoped soon to see him set at liberty.
"I am perplexed to know why the Bishop speaks of releasing the other
three ministers he sent hither--indeed, one was set free a short while
since, as you know. But there is no mention of that grace being extended
to your father; and yet his case was in no way different from that of
others. Can you explain wherefore he is differently treated?"
A hot flush dyed Mona's cheek, and then the flash of anger awoke in her
eyes. She spoke almost as if to herself.
"Oh, infamous, infamous! The coward! Did he indeed speak truth when he
threatened? I did not believe he had such power."
"Of what do you speak, my child?" asked the Governor kindly. "Trust me
and tell me all. You shall not regret your confidence."
"Oh, sir," cried Mona, struggling against her excitement and anger, "it
is the doing of that wicked son of the Bishop. He professes to love me.
He waylays me sometimes in my walks, and talks as he has no right to do.
He is a great man's son. I am a poor minister's daughter. He declares he
wishes to wed me; but I will not listen. He is a bad man. I fear him and
I hate him. And it was but a little while back that he threatened me. He
said that till I would give him the promise he asks, my father should
never be released! I did not think as he spoke that he had power to
contrive such a cruel thing. But here are others going forth, and my
poor father kept still in ward. Oh, why are such cruel things suffered
to be?"
"And what answer did you make him, my child?" asked the Colonel.
"The same that I have ever done, sir; that I have no love for him! Nay,
I hate him and I fear him. I will never trust him; I will never be his
wife. He knows his father would oppose such a marriage; it is always of
elopement that he talks! But I will not hear! He is wicked, cruel! But
my poor father; must he suffer too?"
"Nay; that he shall not. I myself will obtain justice!" cried Derrick,
with sudden energy; and as Mona lifted her beautiful face, and gazed at
him through her tears, he went on gently:
"It may indeed be that I can help thee, sweet maid; for when my visit
here is ended, I return to Dublin, where I am finishing my course of
study at Trinity College, and also acting in the capacity of private
tutor to a great nobleman's son. This nobleman has much influence with
the Government, and through interesting my pupil in your father's story,
I doubt not I can bring this tale to the ears of those in power, and so
effect his release. Therefore, weep no more, fair Mistress Mona; wait in
patience for a few more weeks, and trust me not to forget your case, and
to do all that one man may to right a wrong."
So Mona went home lightened of a sore burden; her heart full of
thanksgiving. And when next the Bishop's son waylaid her, and promised
to obtain her father's freedom if she would but consent to the proposed
elopement with him, she answered him with steady scorn, looking so
beautiful in her simple maidenly dignity and indignation, that the
baffled man stood watching her with a look of mingled longing and anger.
"You obtain his liberty! It is you who are the present cause of his
continued bondage! Why is he not released with the others? Oh, lie not
to me! I know; I know. Wicked men do these things daily, and God does
not smite at once; but the day will come, the day of vengeance, when the
wicked will be overthrown, and the righteous will shine forth like stars
in the firmament of heaven!"
He continued to gaze at her with an expression that would have terrified
many girls; but Mona was not afraid. She felt that she had another
champion now; and she feared no longer the machinations of this bad man.
She had seen Derrick Adair several times during the interval that had
elapsed between her visit to the prison and the present interview with
the Bishop's son. He had come to see her mother, and assure her that the
prisoner had been taken to a more comfortable lodging, and had received
better food and bedding than had been his heretofore. All the money
sent by the careful family was now suffered to reach the prisoner
himself, and his condition was greatly ameliorated thereby.
The dishonest jailer had been sent away, Derrick told them on his second
visit; and he added he would like to make a clean sweep of many others;
but even his father had not power for that.
Mona's heart was now relieved of the heaviest part of its burden. She
was no longer afraid of the Bishop or his son; she was no longer torn in
twain by the feeling that she might be standing between her father and
his liberty, and that perhaps filial duty demanded the sacrifice from
her of wedding a man she feared and hated. But she so distrusted the
Bishop's son that she could never think of his proposal without a
shudder; and now what joy it was to feel that their cause had been taken
up by a stalwart champion, and that justice might be looked for without
such a terrible sacrifice on her part!
Mona was a fearless girl, who had always led a free and hardy life. She
had a very kind heart, and a skilful pair of hands, and wherever there
was sickness in any of the cabins or cottages around, it was the custom
to send for her, and she never failed to answer the summons. Often she
was thus away from her home for a whole day, or for a night or two, and
no anxiety would be aroused by her non-return from a sick-bed. When
possible, she would send a message to this effect if she were detained;
but no real trouble would be caused by her absence at night, should she
have gone forth in response to a summons, and not returned.
One afternoon she received a message to ask her to come to a sick woman
at some distance; and as she kissed her mother she told her not to be
anxious if she did not come home till morning, as if she were detained
late, it would be better to stay the night.
When, however, she arrived at the house, to her great surprise it was
all shut up and empty. Could it be possible that the woman had died
suddenly? she asked herself, and shook the door of the cabin. It yielded
to her hand, and she went in; but there was no sick person on the bed;
the place was neatly swept up and set in order, just as though the
inmate had gone away for a visit.
A sudden odd sense of uneasiness came over Mona--a feeling of having
been tricked. But who could have plotted to deceive her? The little boy
who brought the message certainly delivered it in all good faith, and
she had never questioned him as to who had bidden him bring it. But now
there was but one thing to do; to get home as fast as possible, before
it grew quite dark.
She turned to leave the cottage, when a shadow fell upon her from the
open doorway, and with a shudder of horror she saw standing there the
broad, squat figure of the wicked jailer, whose dismissal from the
prison had been brought about through her instrumentality.
He gazed at her whitening face with an evil leer, and then made a
wild-beast spring at her.
"My turn now, you hussy! My turn now! So you thought to ruin an honest
man, and set at defiance a powerful one! But we will tame you between
us, you little tiger cat! We will have our revenge!"
Even as he spoke the man with practised hands secured the girls slim
wrists and clasped a pair of manacles upon them. He then bound them
behind her back, and, after thrusting a gag into her mouth, he led her
out of the house to a short distance, where in a ruined shed a horse was
tied up. Lifting her upon its broad back, and springing up behind her
himself, he set the creature at a steady gallop, and Mona felt herself
being carried farther and farther away from home and friends, in the
cruel grip of this evil man, who was plainly acting as the tool of the
Bishops son.
It was a terrible thought, but Mona knew her only chance lay in keeping
her courage and self-control. Whether anything could save her from her
fate she did not know. But she closed her eyes in prayer, and entrusted
her case to the God of all the earth, and having partially quieted
herself by this, she opened her eyes and scanned the country through
which they were passing with the keenest and most eager glances.
There was little to encourage her; all was bare and bleak and deserted.
The man was evidently taking an unfrequented route. He desired no doubt
to avoid encounters upon the road, although in the darkness no one was
likely to note that he carried a prisoner before him, and Mona could
give no sign and speak no word.
The light faded, the moon rose, and still they travelled on and on. Mona
began to lose knowledge of the country through which she was passing.
She fancied that they were on the main road for Dublin; but she could
not be absolutely sure. It was like enough that she would be taken to a
great city, where all trace of her would easily be lost. Sometimes as
the long strange hours wore by, her heart almost fainted within her; but
then again she told herself that to lose courage and hope would be to
lose all. If she could but put her captor off his guard, perhaps things
might yet go well. Some chance of escape might offer itself.
They could not travel all night without a halt. Man and beast must be
fed. But as Mona saw in the distance a few twinkling lights, she
pretended to be more heavily asleep than before (and for some time she
had feigned drowsiness and broken slumber), and let herself rest heavily
against the rider behind, who evidently had no great relish for the
burden he did not dare to drop.
At last they reached the inn, and the man wrapped the girl up from head
to foot in his great riding-cloak, taking care that her face should not
be seen. Mona heard him mutter to himself:
"She is in a swoon; so much the better for me. I can take my ease after
this weary ride; and if she comes to herself, she can neither speak nor
use her hands. She must needs lie as I have placed her. I will just tie
her feet to make all safe."
Then, lifting her in his arms, he cried to the host:
"I have got a sick daughter here I am taking to be cared for by my good
mother. I will not bring her inside lest the distemper be catching. I
will lay her comfortably on the straw in this barn, and let her rest
there for an hour. She is in a sleep all the while. She will want
nothing till I come out again."
So Mona was laid down on the straw in the empty barn, and the hint the
man had dropped was quite enough to keep all other persons away from
her. Under pretext of wrapping her up warmly her captor tied her feet
together securely, and there she lay gagged and bound and helpless in
the silence and the darkness. Yet she was hardly alone before she had
struggled up into a sitting posture, and had flung off the heavy folds
of the cloak.
Then very cautiously and carefully, and with some pain, she made the
experiment she had been longing to do all the while--to try and twist
her slim hand out of the manacle that encircled her wrist.
Mona, though a tall girl, was possessed of very delicate feet and hands,
and her bones were small and flexible.
Had less been at stake she would have given up the task in despair; for
the pain was severe, and she was altogether uncertain of success in the
end, and feared that her hand was becoming swollen in the effort. But in
spite of the pain, she persevered, and at last she drew forth her right
hand free, and would have cried aloud but for the gag in her mouth.
To release the other hand when its fellow was free was an easier matter,
and then she quickly unfastened the gag and drew a breath of deep relief
as she flung it from her. It was hard still to be delayed by the knots
that bound her feet; but they gave way at last to her strenuous efforts,
and Mona stood up free and fetterless in the darkness of the barn.
"Thank God--thank God!" she cried in her heart; yet she knew her perils
were not over yet. She must creep away from the inn and hide herself;
but her persecutor would soon discover her flight and would pursue her.
She dared not take the horse, as she feared to be seen if she approached
the stable. All she ventured to do was to slip out of the barn through a
broken portion of the wall, and looking well about her, and taking her
direction from the friendly moon, she sped like a shadow along the road
she had recently so painfully traversed.
She did not dare to leave it unless forced to do so. The treacherous
bog-land lay about her, and she knew nothing of the safe tracks across,
that were familiar in her own locality. The moon that gave her light
would serve also to illumine her own figure for her pursuer when he
should discover her escape. Swiftly as the girl raced onwards in the
moonlight, she felt ever as though that strong horse and his wicked
rider must soon be at her heels.
"Then will I plunge into the bog and hide me or perish there!" cried
Mona, clenching her teeth; "but never, never, never shall he lay his
hands upon me again. I fear not death--at least but little. I fear only
to fall into the hands of wicked men!"
Suddenly upon the far horizon of her vision there loomed up a little
black speck, and Mona's heart gave a throb of joy. It was surely some
traveller approaching from the opposite direction! Upon his mercy she
would cast herself, whoever he might be! No son of Erin would refuse to
champion her in such an hour as this, and no traveller along these
lonely roads ever went unarmed.
Yet even as her quick eyes beheld this traveller approaching in the one
direction, her quick ears caught the sound of horse's hoofs galloping
furiously behind her from the other.
Gathering all her energies together for a last effort, the girl sped
forward like an arrow from a bow, her light figure clearly standing out
in the bright moonlight. It seemed to her as though the traveller saw
something of the pursuit; for instantly his horse sprang forward at a
grand gallop. The fugitive fled onwards gasping, exhausted; and then in
a moment she found herself upheld by a strong arm; she leaned almost
helplessly against her preserver, and a familiar, agitated voice
exclaimed in her ear:
"Mona!--Mona!--Sweetheart, what ails thee?"
"The jailer--the Bishop's son--they tricked me--they caught me!" panted
the girl; "he carried me off; but I have escaped. He is coming after me
now. Ah, do not let him have me! Kill me first; but never let me fall
alive into his hands!"
"You give yourself to me, sweet Mona? Then I will hold thee against all
the world!"
Derrick held her with his left arm, and levelled his pistol with his
right.