--“I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love.”
_Merchant of Venice._
Cecilia and Katherine separated from Alice Dunscombe in the lower
gallery of the cloisters; and the cousins ascended to the apartment
which was assigned them as a dressing-room. The intensity of feeling
that was gradually accumulating in the breasts of the ladies, as
circumstances brought those in whom their deepest interests were centred
into situations of extreme delicacy, if not of actual danger, perhaps,
in some measure, prevented them from experiencing all that concern which
the detection and arrest of Merry might be supposed to excite. The boy,
like themselves, was an only child of one of those three sisters, who
caused the close connection of so many of our characters; and his tender
years had led his cousins to regard him with an affection that exceeded
the ordinary interest of such an affinity; but they knew that in the
hands of Colonel Howard his person was safe, though his liberty might
be endangered. When the first emotions, therefore, which were created
by his sudden appearance after so long an absence had subsided, their
thoughts were rather occupied by the consideration of what consequences,
to others, might proceed from his arrest, than by any reflections on
the midshipman's actual condition. Secluded from the observations of
any strange eyes, the two maidens indulged their feelings, without
restraint, according to their several temperaments. Katherine moved to
and fro in the apartment, with feverish anxiety, while Miss Howard,
by concealing her countenance under the ringlets of her luxuriant dark
hair, and shading her eyes with a fair hand, seemed to be willing to
commune with her thoughts more quietly.
“Barnstable cannot be far distant,” said the former, after a few minutes
had passed; “for he never would have sent that child on such an errand,
by himself!”
Cecilia raised her mild blue eyes to the countenance of her cousin, as
she answered:
“All thoughts of an exchange must now be abandoned; and perhaps the
persons of the prisoners will be held as pledges, to answer for the life
of Dillon.”
“Can the wretch be dead? or is it merely a threat, or some device of
that urchin? He is a forward child, and would not hesitate to speak and
act boldly, on emergency.”
“He is dead!” returned Cecilia, veiling her face again in horror; “the
eyes of the boy, his whole countenance, confirmed his words! I fear,
Katherine, that Mr. Barnstable has suffered his resentment to overcome
his discretion, when he learned the treachery of Dillon; surely, surely,
through the hard usages of war may justify so dreadful a revenge on an
enemy, it was unkind to forget the condition of his own friends!”
“Mr. Barnstable has done neither, Miss Howard,” said Katherine,
checking her uneasy footsteps, her light form swelling with pride; “Mr.
Barnstable is equally incapable of murdering an enemy or of deserting a
friend!”
“But retaliation is neither deemed nor called murder, by men in arms.”
“Think it what you will, call it what you will, Cecilia Howard, I will
pledge my life, that Richard Barnstable has to answer for the blood of
none but the open enemies of his country.”
“The miserable man may have fallen a sacrifice to the anger of that
terrific seaman, who led him hence as a captive!”
“That terrific seaman, Miss Howard, has a heart as tender as your own.
He is----”
“Nay, Katherine,” interrupted Cecilia, “you chide me unkindly; let us
not add to our unavoidable misery, by such harsh contention.”
“I do not contend with you, Cecilia; I merely defend the absent and the
innocent from your unkind suspicions, my cousin.”
“Say, rather, your sister,” returned Miss Howard, their hands
involuntarily closing upon each other, “for we are surely sisters! But
let us strive to think of something less horrible. Poor, poor Dillon!
now that he has met a fate so terrible, I can even fancy him less artful
and more upright than we had thought him! You agree with me, Katherine,
I see by your countenance, and we will dwell no longer on the
subject.--Katherine! my cousin Kate, what see you?”
Miss Plowden, as she relinquished her pressure of the hand of Cecilia,
had renewed her walk with a more regulated step; but she was yet making
her first turn across the room, when her eyes became keenly set on the
opposite window, and her whole frame was held in an attitude of absorbed
attention. The rays of the setting sun fell bright upon her dark
glances, which seemed fastened on some distant object, and gave an
additional glow to the mantling color that was slowly stealing, across
her cheeks, to her temples. Such a sudden alteration in the manner and
appearance of her companion had not failed to catch the attention
of Cecilia, who, in consequence, interrupted herself by the agitated
question we have related. Katherine slowly beckoned her companion to her
side, and, pointing in the direction of the wood that lay in view, she
said:
“See yon tower, in the ruin! Do you observe those small spots of pink
and yellow that are fluttering above its walls?”
“I do. They are the lingering remnants of the foliage of some tree;
but they want the vivid tints which grace the autumn of our own dear
America!”
“One is the work of God, and the other has been produced by the art of
man. Cecilia, those are no leaves, but they are my own childish signals,
and without doubt Barnstable himself is on that ruined tower. Merry
cannot, will not, betray him!”
“My life should be a pledge for the honor of our little cousin,” said
Cecilia. “But you have the telescope of my uncle at hand, ready for such
an event! one look through it will ascertain the truth--”
Katherine sprang to the spot where the instrument stood, and with eager
hands she prepared it for the necessary observation.
“It is he!” she cried, the instant her eye was put to the glass. “I
even see his head above the stones. How unthinking to expose himself so
unnecessarily!”
“But what says he, Katherine?” exclaimed Cecilia; “you alone can
interpret his meaning.”
The little book which contained the explanations of Miss Plowden's
signals was now hastily produced, and its leaves rapidly run over in
quest of the necessary number.
“Tis only a question to gain my attention. I must let him know he is
observed.”
When Katherine, as much to indulge her secret propensities as with any
hope of its usefulness, had devised this plan for communicating with
Barnstable, she had, luckily, not forgotten to arrange the necessary
means to reply to his interrogatories. A very simple arrangement of some
of the ornamental cords of the window-curtains enabled her to effect
this purpose; and her nimble fingers soon fastened the pieces of silk
to the lines, which were now thrown into the air, when these signals in
miniature were instantly displayed in the breeze.
“He sees them!” cried Cecilia, “and is preparing to change his flags.”
“Keep then your eye on him, my cousin, and tell me the colors that he
shows, with their order, and I will endeavor to read his meaning.”
“He is as expert as yourself! There are two more of them fluttering
above the stones again: the upper is white, and the lower black.”
“White over black,” repeated Katherine, rapidly, to herself, as she
turned the leaves of her book.--“'_My messenger: has he been seen?_'--To
that we must answer the unhappy truth. Here it is--yellow, white, and
red--'_He is a prisoner._' How fortunate that I should have prepared
such a question and answer. What says he, Cecilia, to this news?”
“He is busy making his changes, dear. Nay, Katherine, you shake so
violently as to move the glass! Now he is done; 'tis yellow over black,
this time.”
“'_Griffith, or who?_' He does not understand us; but I had thought of
the poor boy, in making out the numbers--ah! here it is; yellow, green,
and red--'_My cousin Merry_'--he cannot fail to understand us now.”
“He has already taken in his flags. The news seems to alarm him, for he
is less expert than before. He shows them now--they are green, red, and
yellow.”
“The question is, '_Am I safe?_' 'Tis that which made him tardy, Miss
Howard,” continued Katherine. “Barnstable is ever slow to consult his
safety. But how shall I answer him? should we mislead him now, how could
we ever forgive ourselves!”
“Of Andrew Merry there is no fear,” returned Cecilia; “and I think
if Captain Borroughcliffe had any intimation of the proximity of his
enemies, he would not continue at the table.”
“He will stay there while wine will sparkle, and man can swallow,” said
Katherine; “but we know, by sad experience, that he is a soldier on an
emergency; and yet, I'll trust to his ignorance this time--here, I have
an answer: '_You are yet safe, but be wary_.'”
“He reads your meaning with a quick eye, Katherine; and he is ready with
his answer too: he shows green over white, this time. Well! do you not
hear me? 'tis green over white. Why, you are dumb--what says he, dear?”
Still Katherine answered not, and her cousin raised her eyes from the
glass, and beheld her companion gazing earnestly at the open page, while
the glow which excitement had before brought to her cheek was increased
to a still deeper bloom.
“I hope your blushes and his signals are not ominous, Kate,” added
Cecilia; “can green imply his jealousy, as white does your purity? what
says he, coz?”
“He talks, like yourself, much nonsense,” said Katherine, turning to
her flags, with a pettish air, that was singularly contradicted by her
gratified countenance; “but the situation of things requires that I
should talk to Barnstable more freely.”
“I can retire,” said Cecilia, rising from her chair with a grave manner.
“Nay, Cecilia, I do not deserve these looks--'tis you who exhibit levity
now! But you can perceive for yourself that evening is closing in,
and that some other medium for conversation, besides the eyes, may be
adopted.--Here is a signal, which will answer: _'When the abbey clock
strikes nine, come with care to the wicket, which opens, at the east
side of the paddock, on the road: until then, keep secret.'_ I had
prepared this very signal, in case an interview should be necessary.”
“Well, he sees it,” returned Cecilia, who had resumed her place by the
telescope, “and seems disposed to obey you, for I no longer discern his
flags or his person.”
Miss Howard now arose from before the glass, her observations being
ended; but Katherine did not return the instrument to its corner,
without fastening one long and anxious look through it, on what now
appeared to be the deserted tower. The interest and anxiety produced
by this short and imperfect communication between Miss Plowden and
her lover did not fail to excite reflections in both the ladies,
that furnished materials to hold them in earnest discourse, until the
entrance of Alice Dunscombe announced that their presence was expected
below. Even the unsuspecting Alice, on entering, observed a change in
the countenances and demeanor of the two cousins, which betrayed that
their secret conference had not been entirely without contention. The
features of Cecilia were disturbed and anxious, and their expression was
not unlike melancholy; while the dark flashing eye, flushed temples,
and proud, determined step of Katherine exhibited in an equal, if not a
greater degree, a very different emotion. As no reference to the subject
of their conversation was, however, made by either of the young ladies
after the entrance of Alice, she led the way, in silence, to the
drawing-room.
The ladies were received, by Colonel Howard and Borroughcliffe, with
marked attention. In the former there were moments when a deep gloom
would, in spite of his very obvious exertions to the contrary, steal
over his open, generous countenance; but the recruiting officer
maintained an air of immovable coolness and composure. Twenty times
did he detect the piercing looks of Katherine fastened on him, with an
intentness that a less deliberative man might have had the vanity to
misinterpret; but even this flattering testimonial of his power to
attract failed to disturb his self-possession. It was in vain that
Katherine endeavored to read his countenance, where everything was fixed
in military rigidity, though his deportment appeared more than usually
easy and natural. Tired at length with her fruitless scrutiny, the
excited girl turned her gaze upon the clock: to her amazement, she
discovered that it was on the stroke of nine, and, disregarding a
deprecating glance from her cousin, she arose and quitted the apartment.
Borroughcliffe opened the door for her exit, and, while the lady civilly
bowed her head in acknowledgment of his attention, their eyes once
more met; but she glided quickly by him, and found herself alone in the
gallery. Katherine hesitated, more than a minute, to proceed, for she
thought she had detected in that glance a lurking expression, that
manifested conscious security mingled with secret design. It was not
her nature, however, to hesitate, when circumstances required that she
should be both prompt and alert; and, throwing over her slight person
a large cloak, that was in readiness for the occasion, she stole warily
from the building.
Although Katherine suspected most painfully that Borroughcliffe had
received intelligence that might prove dangerous to her lover, she
looked around her in vain, on gaining the open air, to discover any
alteration in the arrangements for the defence of the abbey, which might
confirm her suspicions, or the knowledge of which might enable her to
instruct Barnstable how to avoid the secret danger. Every disposition
remained as it had been since the capture of Griffith and his companion.
She heard the heavy, quick steps of the sentinel, who was posted beneath
their windows, endeavoring to warm himself on his confined post; and as
she paused to listen, she also detected the rattling of arms from the
soldier who, as usual, guarded the approach of that part of the building
where his comrades were quartered. The night had set in cloudy and dark,
although the gale had greatly subsided towards the close of the day;
still the wind swept heavily, and, at moments, with a rushing noise,
among the irregular walls of the edifice; and it required the utmost
nicety of ear to distinguish even these well-known sounds, among such
accompaniments. When Katherine, however, was satisfied that her organs
had not deceived her, she turned an anxious eye in the direction of
what Borroughcliffe called his “barracks.” Everything in that direction
appeared so dark and still as to create a sensation of uneasiness, by
its very quiet. It might be the silence of sleep that now pervaded the
ordinarily gay and mirthful apartment! or it might be the stillness of a
fearful preparation! There was no time, however, for further hesitation,
and Katherine drew her cloak more closely about her form, and proceeded
with light and guarded steps to the appointed spot. As she approached
the wicket the clock struck the hour, and she again paused, while the
mournful sounds were borne by her on the wind, as if expecting that each
stroke on the bell would prove a signal to unmask some secret design of
Borroughcliffe. As the last vibration melted away, she opened the little
gate, and issued on the highway. The figure of a man sprang forward from
behind an angle of the wall, as she appeared; and while her heart was
still throbbing with the suddenness of the alarm, she found herself in
the arms of Barnstable. After the first few words of recognition and
pleasure which the young sailor uttered, he acquainted his mistress with
the loss of his schooner, and the situation of the survivors.
“And now, Katherine,” he concluded, “you have come, I trust, never to
quit me; or, at most, to return no more to that old abbey, unless it be
to aid in liberating Griffith, and then to join me again forever.”
“Why, truly, there is so much to tempt a young woman to renounce
her home and friends, in the description you have just given of your
condition, that I hardly know how to refuse your request, Barnstable.
You are very tolerably provided with a dwelling in the ruin; and
I suppose certain predatory schemes are to be adopted to make it
habitable! St. Ruth is certainly well supplied with the necessary
articles, but whether we should not be shortly removed to the Castle
at York, or the jail at Newcastle, is a question that I put to your
discretion.”
“Why yield your thoughts to such silly subjects, lovely trifler!”
said Barnstable, “when the time and the occasion both urge us to be in
earnest?”
“It is a woman's province to be thrifty, and to look after the comforts
of domestic life,” returned his mistress; “and I would discharge my
functions with credit. But I feel you are vexed, for to see your dark
countenance is out of the question, on such a night. When do you propose
to commence housekeeping, if I should yield to your proposals?”
“I have not concluded relating my plans, and your provoking wit annoys
me! The vessel I have taken will unquestionably come into the land, as
the gale dies; and I intend making my escape in her, after beating this
Englishman, and securing the liberty of Miss Howard and yourself. I
could see the frigate in the offing, even before we left the cliffs.”
“This certainly sounds better!” rejoined Katherine, in a manner that
indicated she was musing on their prospects; “and yet there may exist
some difficulties in the way that you little suspect.”
“Difficulties there are none--there can be none.”
“Speak not irreverently of the mazes of love, Mr. Barnstable. When
was it ever known to exist unfettered or unembarrassed? Even I have an
explanation to ask of you, that I would much rather let alone.
“Of me! ask what you will, or how you will; I am a careless, unthinking
fellow, Miss Plowden; but to you I have little to answer for--unless a
foolish sort of adoration be an offence against your merits.”
Barnstable felt the little hand that was supported on his arm, pressing
the limb, as Katherine replied, in a tone so changed from its former
forced levity, that he started as the first sounds reached his ears.
“Merry has brought in a horrid report!” she said; “I would I could
believe it untrue! but the looks of the boy, and the absence of Dillon,
both confirm it.”
“Poor Merry! he too has fallen into the trap! but they shall yet find
one who is too cunning for them. Is it to the fate of that wretched
Dillon that you allude?”
“He _was_ a wretch,” continued Katherine, in the same voice, “and he
deserved much punishment at your hands, Barnstable; but life is the gift
of God, and is not to be taken whenever human vengeance would appear to
require a victim.”
“His life was taken by Him who bestowed it,” said the sailor. “Is it
Katherine Plowden who would suspect me of the deed of a dastard!”
“I do not suspect you--I did not suspect you,” cried Katherine; “I will
never suspect any evil of you again. You are not, you cannot be angry
with me, Barnstable? Had you heard the cruel suspicions of my cousin
Cecilia, and had your imagination been busy in portraying your wrongs
and the temptations to forget mercy, like mine, even while my tongue
denied your agency in the suspected deed, you would--you would at least
have learned how much easier it is to defend those we love against the
open attacks of others, than against our own jealous feelings.”
“Those words, love and jealousy, will obtain your acquittal,” cried
Barnstable, in his natural voice; and, after uttering a few more
consoling assurances to Katherine, whose excited feelings found vent in
tears, he briefly related the manner of Dillon's death.
“I had hoped I stood higher in the estimation of Miss Howard than to
be subjected to even her suspicions,” he said, when he had ended his
explanation. “Griffith has been but a sorry representative of our trade,
if he has left such an opinion of its pursuits.”
“I do not know that Mr. Griffith would altogether have escaped my
conjectures, had he been the disappointed commander, and you the
prisoner,” returned Katherine; “you know not how much we have both
studied the usages of war, and with what dreadful pictures of hostages,
retaliations, and military executions our minds are stored! but a
mountain is raised off my spirits, and I could almost say that I am now
ready to descend the valley of life in your company.”
“It is a discreet determination, my good Katherine, and God bless you
for it; the companion may not be so good as you deserve, but you will
find him ambitious of your praise. Now let us devise means to effect our
object.”
“Therein lies another of my difficulties. Griffith, I much fear, will
not urge Cecilia to another flight, against her--her--what shall I call
it, Barnstable--her caprice, or her judgment? Cecilia will never consent
to desert her uncle, and I cannot muster the courage to abandon my poor
cousin, in the face of the world, in order to take shelter with even Mr.
Richard Barnstable!”
“Speak you from the heart now, Katherine?”
“Very nearly--if not exactly.”
“Then have I been cruelly deceived! It is easier to find a path in the
trackless ocean, without chart or compass, than to know the windings of
a woman's heart!”
“Nay, nay, foolish man; you forget that I am but small, and how very
near my head is to my heart; too nigh, I fear, for the discretion of
their mistress! but is there no method of forcing Griffith and Cecilia
to their own good, without undue violence?”
“It cannot be done; he is my senior in rank, and the instant I release
him he will claim the command. A question might be raised, at a leisure
moment, on the merits of such a claim--but even my own men are, as you
know, nothing but a draft from the frigate, and they would not hesitate
to obey the orders of the first lieutenant, who is not a man to trifle
on matters of duty.”
“Tis vexatious, truly,” said Katherine, “that all my well-concerted
schemes in behalf of this wayward pair should be frustrated by their own
willful conduct! But after all, have you justly estimated your strength,
Barnstable? are you certain that you would be successful, and that
without hazard, too, if you should make the attempt?”
“Morally, and what is better, physically certain. My men are closely
hid, where no one suspects an enemy to lie; they are anxious for the
enterprise, and the suddenness of the attack will not only make the
victory sure, but it will be rendered bloodless. You will aid us in our
entrance, Katherine; I shall first secure this recruiting officer, and
his command will then surrender without striking a blow. Perhaps,
after all, Griffith will hear reason; if he do not, I will not yield my
authority to a released captive, without a struggle.”
“God send that there shall be no fighting!” murmured his companion,
a little appalled at the images his language had raised before her
imagination; “and, Barnstable, I enjoin you, most solemnly, by all your
affection for me, and by everything you deem most sacred, to protect the
person of Colonel Howard at every hazard. There must be no excuse, no
pretence, for even an insult to my passionate, good, obstinate, but kind
old guardian. I believe I have given him already more trouble than I am
entitled to give any one, and Heaven forbid that I should cause him any
serious misfortune!”
“He shall be safe, and not only he, but all that are with him, as you
will perceive, Katherine, when you hear my plan. Three hours shall
not pass over my head before you will see me master of that old abbey.
Griffith, ay, Griffith, must be content to be my inferior, until we get
afloat again.”
“Attempt nothing unless you feel certain of being able to maintain
your advantage, not only against your enemies, but also against your
friends,” said the anxious Katherine. “Rely on it, both Cecilia and
Griffith are refining so much on their feelings, that neither will be
your ally.”
“This comes of passing the four best years of his life within walls of
brick, poring over Latin grammars and syntaxes, and such other nonsense,
when he should have been rolling them away in a good box of live-oak,
and studying, at most, how to sum up his day's work, and tell where his
ship lies after a blow. Your college learning may answer well enough for
a man who has to live by his wits, but it can be of little use to
one who is never afraid to read human nature, by looking his
fellow-creatures full in the face, and whose hand is as ready as his
tongue. I have generally found the eye that was good at Latin was dull
at a compass, or in a night squall: and yet, Griff is a seaman; though
I have heard him even read the Testament in Greek! Thank God, I had the
wisdom to run away from school the second day they undertook to teach me
a strange tongue, and I believe I am the more honest man, and the better
seaman, for my ignorance!”
“There is no telling what you might have been, Barnstable, under other
circumstances,” retorted his mistress, with a playfulness of manner that
she could not always repress, though it was indulged at the expense of
him she most loved; “I doubt not but, under proper training, you would
have made a reasonably good priest.”
“If you talk of priests, Katherine, I shall remind you that we carry one
in the ship. But listen to my plan: we may talk further of priestcraft
when an opportunity may offer.”
Barnstable then proceeded to lay before his mistress a project he had
formed for surprising the abbey that night, which was so feasible that
Katherine, notwithstanding her recent suspicions of Borroughcliffe's
designs, came gradually to believe it would succeed. The young seaman
answered her objections with the readiness of an ardent mind, bent on
executing its purposes, and with a fertility of resources that proved he
was no contemptible enemy, in matters that required spirited action.
Of Merry's remaining firm and faithful he had no doubt; and although he
acknowledged the escape of the peddler boy, he urged that the lad had
seen no other of his party besides himself, whom he mistook for a common
marauder.
As the disclosure of these plans was frequently interrupted by little
digressions, connected with the peculiar motions of the lovers, more
than an hour flew by, before they separated. But Katherine at length
reminded him how swiftly the time was passing, and how much remained to
be done, when he reluctantly consented to see her once more through the
wicket, where they parted.
Miss Plowden adopted the same precaution in returning to the house
she had used on leaving it; and she was congratulating herself on its
success, when her eye caught a glimpse of the figure of a man, who was
apparently following at some little distance, in her footsteps, and
dogging her motions. As the obscure form, however, paused also when she
stopped to give it an alarmed, though inquiring look, and then slowly
retired towards the boundary of the paddock, Katherine, believing it to
be Barnstable watching over her safety, entered the abbey, with every
idea of alarm entirely lost in the pleasing reflection of her lover's
solicitude.