A SINGULAR INTERVIEW, AND THE CONSEQUENCES OF PASSION.
Being perfectly ignorant of where I was, I thought the most prudent
plan was to stand stock still, for if I advanced it might be into
danger, and my retreat was evidently cut off.
Moreover, those who brought me there must have some sort of intention,
and it was better for me to leave them to develop it than to take any
steps myself, which might be of a very hazardous nature.
That I was adopting the best policy I was soon convinced, for a flash
of light suddenly came upon me, and I heard a gruff voice, say,—
“Who goes there? come this way.”
I walked on, and passed through an open door way into a small
apartment, in the centre of which, standing by a common deal table on
which his clenched hand was resting, I found Oliver Cromwell himself.
“So, sirrah,” he said, “royalists and pestilent characters are to
ravage the land, are they so? answer me.”
“I have no answer to make, your highness,” said I.
“God’s mercy, no answer, when in your own house the Duke of Cleveland’s
proscribed secretary lies concealed.”
I felt rather staggered, but was certain I had been betrayed by some
one, and Cromwell continued rapidly, without giving me time to speak.
“The Lord is merciful, and so are we, but the malignant must be taken
by the beloved soldiers of the Commonwealth, and the gospel God-fearing
men, who always turn to the Lord, with short carbines, will accompany
you. The malignant shall be taken from your house, by you, and the true
God-fearing dragoons shall linger in the shade behind. You will take
him to the river side, where the Lord willing, there will be a boat
with a small blue ensign, on board of which you will place him, wishing
him good speed.”
He paused, and looked fixedly upon me by the aid of the miserable light
that was in the apartment.
“What then, your highness?” I said.
“Then you will probably call upon us to-morrow for a considerable sum,
which will be due to you for this good service to the Commonwealth;
yes, it shall be profitable to fight the battles of the Lord.”
I must confess, I had expected a very different result from the
interview, which I had been greatly in fear would have resulted, in
greatly endangering my liberty. Cromwell was a man not to be tampered
with; I knew my danger, and was not disposed to sacrifice myself for
Master Latham.
“Your highness shall be obeyed,” I said.
“Ay, verily,” he replied, “and if we be not obeyed, we must make
ourselves felt with a strong arm of flesh. What ho! God-fearing
Simpkins, art thou there?”
“Yes, the Lord willing,” said a dragoon, making his appearance at the
door.
Cromwell merely made him a sign with his hand, and he laid hold of the
upper part of my arm, as though it had been in a vice, and led me out
into the passage again where the sentinels were posted.
In the course of a few moments, I was duly in custody of my two guards
again, and we were proceeding at a very rapid pace towards my residence.
It was not a very agreeable affair, view it in whatever light I
might; but as regarded Cromwell, I knew my jeopardy, and it would be
perceived that I had not hesitated a moment in obeying him. Moreover, I
considered, for I knew he was generous, I should have a good round sum
by the transaction, which added to the fifty pounds I had received from
the royalists, made the affair appear to me in a pleasant enough light.
Indeed, I was revolving in my mind as I went along, whether it would
not be worth while, almost entirely to attach myself to the protector.
“If,” I reasoned with myself, “I should do that, and still preserve
myself a character with the royalists, I should thrive.”
But it will be seen that an adverse circumstance put an end to all
those dreams.
When we reached the door of my house, the first thing I saw was my son
wiping his brow, as if he had undergone some fatigue; he ran up to me,
and catching me by the arm, whispered to me.
I was so angered at the moment, that heedless of what I did, and
passion getting the mastery over me, I with my clenched fist struck
him to the earth. His head fell upon one of the hard round stones with
which the street was paved, and he never spoke again. I had murdered
him.
• • • • •
I don’t know what happened immediately subsequent to this fearful deed;
all I can recollect is, that there was a great confusion and a flashing
of lights, and it appeared to me as if something had suddenly struck me
down to the earth with great force.
When I did thoroughly awaken, I found myself lying upon a small couch,
but in a very large apartment dimly lighted, and where there were many
such couches ranged against the walls. A miserable light just enabled
me to see about me a little, and some dim dusky-looking figures were
creeping about the place.
It was a hospital that the protector had lately instituted in the
Strand.
I tried to speak, but could not; my tongue seemed glued to my mouth,
and I could not, and then a change came upon my sense of sight, and I
could scarcely see at all the dim dusky-looking figures about me.
Some one took hold of me by the wrist, and I heard one say, quite
distinctly,—
“He’s entirely going, now.”
Suddenly it seemed as if something had fallen with a crushing influence
upon my chest, and then a consciousness that I was gasping for breath,
and then I thought I was at the bottom of the sea. There was a moment,
only a moment, of frightful agony, and then came a singing sound, like
the rush of waters, after which, I distinctly felt some one raising
me in their arms. I was dropped again, my limbs felt numbed and chill,
an universal spasm shot through my whole system, I opened my eyes, and
found myself lying in the open air, by a newly opened grave.
A full moon was sailing through the sky and the cold beams were upon my
face; a voice sounded in my ears, a deep and solemn voice—and painfully
distinct was every word it uttered.
“Mortimer,” it said, for that was my name, “Mortimer, in life you did
one deed which at once cast you out from all hope that anything in that
life would be remembered in the world to come to your advantage. You
poisoned the pure font of mercy, and not upon such as you can the downy
freshness of Heaven’s bounty fall. Murderer, murderer of that being
sacredly presented to your care by the great Creator of all things,
live henceforth a being accursed. Be to yourself a desolation and a
blight, shunned by all that is good and virtuous, armed against all
men, and all men armed against thee, Varney the Vampyre.”
• • • • •
I staggered to my feet, the scene around me was a churchyard, I was
gaunt and thin, my clothes hung about me in tattered remnants. The damp
smell of the grave hung about them, I met an aged man, and asked him
where I was. He looked at me with a shudder, as though I had escaped
from some charnel house.
“Why this is Isledon,” said he.
A peal of bells came merrily upon the night air.
“What means that?” said I.
“Why this is the anniversary of the Restoration.”
“The Restoration! What Restoration?”
“Why of the royal family to the throne, to be sure, returned this day
last year. Have you been asleep so long that you don’t know that?”
I shuddered and walked on, determined to make further inquiries, and to
make them with so much caution, that the real extent of my ignorance
should scarce be surmised, and the result was to me of the most
astonishing character.
I found that I had been in the trance of death for nearly two years,
and that during that period, great political changes had taken place.
The exiled royal family had been restored to the throne, and the most
remarkable revulsion of feeling that had ever taken place in a nation
had taken place in England.
But personally I had not yet fully awakened to all the horror of what I
was. I had heard the words addressed to me, but I had attached no very
definite meaning to them.