There was a reason for Dally's non-appearance at the sexton's cottage,
and that reason was that she did not stir out of the Rectory that
evening, but was exceedingly attentive if the bell was rung, and about
ten o'clock presented herself at the study door to know if there was
anything else wanted before she went up to bed, for it was to be a busy
morning, and she wanted to be up early, etcetera, etcetera.
Mary wanted nothing more, and Leo gave consent, so Dally Watlock went up
to bed, but did not go.
On the contrary, she bustled about for some little time without
attempting to undress, spoke to her fellow-servant through the plaster
wall, and ended by yawning loudly and extinguishing her candle. Then
softly opening her window she sat down by it to enjoy the softness and
beauty of the dark, calm night.
The old Rectory at Duke's Hampton stood back fifty yards from the road,
with its back to the meadows through which ran the sparkling
trout-stream. There was a fine old garden full of bushy evergreens and
tall, flowering shrubs, so that partly through the efforts of nature,
partly through the running of the ancient gardener who had planned the
place ingeniously, it was quite possible for half-a-dozen people to be
about the place at once without being aware of each other's presence.
The beautiful old ivy-clad place was built in the shape of an L, with
steep gable-ends; and matters had been so arranged that while Salis and
poor invalid Mary slept in the front, Leo's pretty bedroom was placed so
that she could look straight down the green-embowered path right to the
meadows. Just below her window was an old rustic summer-house, covered
with clematis and jasmine; a little more to the right, in the angle of
the L, was a tiny vinery, and beyond that the lean-to tool-house--made
an object of beauty by the dense mass of ivy which clustered over the
thatched roof and walls.
Hence it was that while Leo could look down on the creeper-covered
summer-house, and across at the ivy-clad tool-house and the
rose-encircled bedroom window of Dally Watlock, the latter apple-cheeked
young lady enjoyed the reverse view, with the slight disadvantage that
when she looked across at Leo's window, she could not see roses, but the
long, laurel-like leaves of a great magnolia, carefully trained all
round--a matter not of the smallest importance, for Dally preferred the
window to its surroundings.
Daily's proceedings were strange that night. She sat there eager and
watchful till there was a sudden glow in Leo's window, indicating that
her young mistress had gone up to bed. Then as she watched she saw the
blind drawn aside, and a shadowy hand unfasten the casement, throw it
open, and put in the iron hook.
Dally drew a long breath full of satisfaction, and then waiting till the
blind dropped and the shadow of Leo appeared upon it from time to time,
she proceeded to behave in a remarkably strange manner for a young
person whose character means her life as a domestic servant.
Dally said softly through her nipped-together teeth:
"I thought as much, ma'am!" and then, with all the activity of a boy of
fourteen, she tied a dark handkerchief tightly over her head and under
her chin, stepped from her chair on to the window-sill, lowered herself
on to the top of the tool-house, where she lay flat down in the bed of
leaves, to form, had it been light, as prettily rustic-looking an idea
for an artist of a Dryad in her leafy wreath as he need wish to have.
But Dally Watlock was not going to have a night's rest _al fresco_, for
she was exceedingly wide awake, and as soon as she was extended at full
length parallel with her part of the house, and with her feet towards
that portion where her superiors slept, she began to revolve upon her
own axis in a very slow and careful manner, down and down the ivy slope
of the lean--to thatched shed, there being plenty of stout ivy-boughs
for her to grasp, so as to act as breaks and govern her speed. Now she
was on her side, then as she slowly turned, her little red face was
buried in the dark green leaves. A little more and it came up, and she
was on the other side, and soon after upon her back. And so on and on
till, merely crushing down the leaves a little, and without breaking a
twig, she rolled down to the very edge, when, holding on tightly by the
ivy, she let her legs drop, and touched the earth, making scarcely any
more noise than a cat.
She remained perfectly motionless for a few minutes, and then crept
stealthily to the main green walk in the garden, gazed watchfully back
at Leo's window, where the head and shoulders of her young mistress
could be plainly seen upon the illuminated blind, and then ran swiftly
down the grass path to the iron hurdle which separated the garden from
the meadow, climbed it like a boy and as quickly, and then ran rapidly
across the meadows in the direction of the church.
Dally Watlock had not gambolled about the old sexton's knees as a child
for nothing. She had been with the old man constantly, and been
furnished by him with strange playthings in her time. To wit, there was
a bag of buttons that had afforded her endless amusement, some being
black, others silvered, while a certain portion were of superior make
and richly gilt. Moredock called them buttons, but their shapes were
peculiar, and looked as if they had been driven into the material to
which they had been attached, instead of sewn. There were some
ornaments, too, of stamped metal which had always been great favourites
with Dally, from the fact of their containing the plump faces of baby
boys with curly hair and wings.
Dally had many a time sat perched upon a tombstone and eaten apples
while "gran'fa" dug graves, and the sight of the old man growing lower
and lower as he dug, till from being buried to his knees he went down to
his waist, to his chest, and then quite out of sight, was always full of
fascination for the child.
As a natural result, the church had been a familiar playground on
Saturdays, when, as the old man dusted and arranged cushions and
hassocks, Dally would have scandalised a looker-on, for she played at
visiting, treating the pews as houses, the aisles of the church as
streets, and made calls after duly knocking at all the pew doors, the
knocker being temporary in every case, and formed of a large, old,
tarnished gilt coffin handle, which she held up with her left chubby
fingers while she knocked with the right.
Moredock used to grin and enjoy it, petting the child, and humouring her
in every way. She would be his companion in the belfry when he tolled
or chimed the bells, and was even allowed to take a pull at one of the
ropes, while they had often afforded her opportunities for a swing.
Dally Watlock, then, in earlier life had stolen away from home as often
as possible, and was as familiar with the church roof, tower, and
interior, as her grandfather; hence, on the night when she stole out of
the Rectory and ran across the meadows, she had no difficulty in the way
of the plan she had designed, which was to reach the old lych-gate, try
whether it was locked, and, if so, climb it.
It was locked, and she clambered over quickly and silently, took a short
cut among the graves to the old railed tomb, close to the big buttress
by the centre south window that had once contained stained glass. Here
the smaller casement used for ventilation readily opened at the
insertion of the blade of a pocket-knife, leaving room for the active
girl, who had reached it by climbing up and standing upon the tomb
railings, to pass through and lower herself into the dark interior of
the church.
Here, standing upon the cushions of one of the primitive old square
pews, she crouched and listened breathlessly; but all was still, and
after satisfying herself as far as she could that she was alone, she
slipped down, passed through the door into the aisle, and then on and
on, bent almost double, so as to keep below the level of the pew tops,
where the darkness was intense.
The girl's every movement was as lithe and stealthy as that of some wild
animal; always on the alert for danger and ready for instant flight; but
there seemed to be no cause for fear, and she crept on and on till the
rood-screen was reached, and she passed into the chancel, where she soon
lay down by the ornamental railings of the Candlish tomb, between it and
the oak panels of that family's pew, where there was an interval quite
large enough to hide her compact little frame.
It was not so dark here, for a faint twilight streamed in through the
great east window; but still the gloom was too deep for any one who
passed to be recognisable.
Dally listened, and still crouched there, with her heart beating fast
and her keen eyes roving from place to place as her ears strove to catch
the faintest sound. The two grotesque effigies of the Candlishes
reclined just above her head, the tablets on the walls faintly
shimmered, and a dark mass--the pulpit--loomed up beyond the
rood-screen, and all was so still that her breath sounded to her
laboured, and as if passing through rustling paper.
After carefully scrutinising the place in all directions, she fixed her
eyes upon the dark patch with pointed top which represented the way into
the vestry. It was just opposite to her, and seemed to be the great
object of her nocturnal journey.
For a few minutes all was still. Then there was a faint chirruping
noise which emanated from Dally's lips, as she backed softly a little
more into her hiding-place.
No response!
She chirruped again, and failing to obtain any reply, she made a quick
motion with one hand, the result being a sharp rap as if a tiny stone
had struck the vestry door to make a second sound as it fell upon the
stone floor.
No response!
"Safe!" whispered Dally to herself, and making a faint rustling sound,
she glided out from her hiding-place, and crossing the chancel, raised
the heavy latch of the vestry door.
There was a faint _click_ as she passed in and closed it after her.
Then another rustling sound, and a peculiar rattling noise, for Dally
had drawn the large key she had borrowed from the sexton's cottage,
placed it in the lock of the spiral staircase leading up to the
rood-loft, opened it, and after withdrawing and inserting the key on the
inner side, she crept in, locked the door, went rapidly up to the
opening where she had sat during the funeral service, and then resting
her arms upon the carved stone tracery, she thrust her head and
shoulders as far forward as she could, and listened and waited for what
was to come.
Volume 2, Chapter IX.