_Arthur._--"And will you?"
_Hubert._--"And I will."
_Arthur._--"Have you the heart?"--_King John._
"They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain when a week past away."
_The Mistletoe Bough._
It was near the close of one of those wet dreary days when it seems as
if November invaded the domains of sunny July, and wreaked its vengeance
by making it as wet, and cold, and cheerless as its own dark month,
Ellen, Johnny, and Maude sat in the front drawing-room; Maude was
drawing, Johnny looking out on the gloomy sea, into which the rain fell
fast, as in long furrows the waves rose lazily, and beat on the sands
with a dull reverberating sound. The opposite coast was dimly seen, and
a hectic flush through the lowering clouds told that the sun was
setting, and seemed to promise a brighter morrow.
"What a disgusting climate this is, Nelly! nothing but
rain--rain--rain--till one feels inclined to swear at the weather."
"That would be very wrong, Johnny: remember who sends the weather;
besides we have had some beautiful days: do you remember the time we
spent at the Towers?"
"You are so particular, Nelly. After all, this is only the more
provoking after such fine weather. So ho!" he continued, yawning; "I
wish I was at the Towers again! It has rained ever since Captain
L'Estrange was lost, and spoilt all the fun."
"It is very curious indeed," said Ellen. "What a wet ride Lord Wentworth
will have home to-night."
"I don't pity him, such a jolly house to go to. When you are Lady
Wentworth, Nelly, mind you invite me out."
Ellen smiled.
"I wish this mysterious affair was cleared up though; I shall never feel
quite happy till it is."
"You will be happy enough when you are married, Nell!"
"Look, sister Ellen," said Maude, "the Earl has left his hunting whip."
"So he has; give it me, love, to keep for him; and, Johnny, do shut out
the dull evening, and light the lamp."
When these orders had been attended to, Johnny proposed a game at cards,
and was just taking them out, when a loud ring was heard at the door.
"The Earl, for a pound;" cried Johnny, "come for his whip, I will take
it;" and seizing it from Ellen, he ran down stairs.
"Ask him to come in, Johnny,"--but the giddy boy heard not.
"What is it, Johnny?" asked Ellen as her brother re-entered the room,
looking very frightened. Loud voices were also heard below.
"Oh, Nelly, what has happened?" said Johnny, when he could find his
tongue. "There are officers below--I heard them say, 'Open in the King's
name.'"
"Oh, Johnny, what is it? You alarm me--oh! I trust nothing is wrong."
Hardly had she ceased speaking when the room door was opened, and an
officer of the watch entered. He was above the average height
considerably, wore his hair long, and also a large beard as well as
bushy whiskers and moustache.
"Miss Ravensworth?"
"I am," said Ellen, shuddering with fear. "What is this--what is it all
about?" And she sunk backwards on the sofa.
"Madam," replied the officer, bowing, "I am extremely concerned that it
has fallen to me to make this unpleasant notification to you, but I am
the King's servant and must obey his commands: you must accompany me,
madam, to Edinburgh."
"I will not--you have no right to ask me--I am innocent of all
transgression. I am a free subject of his Majesty's; you have no right,
no power to touch me--on what plea do you do so?"
"Madam, I am deeply distressed, but it is my duty. You are not perhaps
aware it has come to the knowledge of his Majesty's government that his
liege subject, Captain Edward L'Estrange, has been murdered, yes, madam,
foully murdered, and--"
"Dare you even insinuate I know anything about this dreadful
occurrence?" said Ellen, rising again to her feet, and having seemingly
nerved herself for the worst.
"Far be it from me, madam, to suppose one so fair, so young, so
innocent-looking, could have any hand in a murder so foul. Once more,
madam, it is my harsh duty to require you to follow me. Doubtless your
innocence will shine out clear as the noon-day, but your trial must take
place. You were, you must know, peculiarly circumstanced with the
unfortunate young man, and the laws--which have no respect to
persons--require your presence. If you are innocent, God will defend the
right, and you have nothing to fear. God forbid I should think you
otherwise; show your innocence, madam, by following me."
"Never; you have no right, you have no warrant to empower your act."
"Pardon me, behold the warrant, with our magistrate's own signature.
There can be no possible fear. I beseech you, madam, come."
"Oh! at least wait till my father comes; he will be here in half an
hour, then I will go."
"Madam, I am extremely sorry, but my orders are peremptory and
immediate; will you come or not?"
"I will not; I deny your right to imprison an innocent person."
"Then I am distressed to say if you will not come fairly I must use
violence, such are my orders. Oh, madam! compel me not to do so."
Ellen still stood silent, her eyes were uplifted as if she sought a
higher power to befriend her.
"You still demur, then I have nothing else for it. You will bear me
witness"--addressing Johnny and Maude--"with what reluctance I used it."
So saying he stamped his foot on the floor--two harsh-looking men
entered: one was short but broad-chested and immensely powerful in make;
his face was a bad one, and his eye unrelenting and cruel. His fellow
might have been a burly yeoman or farmer; in look more kindly than his
neighbour, but even in his eye was little to reassure Ellen. Both were
in the uniform of the watch. She looked at the three in breathless fear,
then turning to the officer she said--
"I will go with you, sir. Send those bad, cruel men away."
"Begone," said the officer; they instantly departed. "Now, madam, fulfil
your promise, and at once comply with my request. Once more I repeat you
have nothing to fear from me."
Ellen, still willing to temporize, if by any means she could delay
starting till her father came, said--
"You will at least suffer me to retire a moment to my room, and put on
my shawl and bonnet."
She had formed the desperate resolve of leaping from her window, and
running to Mr. Lennox's house for protection.
"I am grieved again to deny you this; my orders are express, not to
allow you out of my sight."
"You are no gentleman," said Ellen, in her rage at this failure; "you
are not even a man thus to treat a weak maiden."
"Again, madam, let me say, I am under orders; it is not I but my King
who commands this. Once more, follow me, or by Heaven!" he cried,
getting angry too at the delay, "I will recall those cruel men, as you
call them, and leave you to their mercies."
"God's will be done, and may He show you more mercy than you show your
fellow-creatures."
And with these words, followed by the officer, she went to her room and
enveloped herself in a large Stuart tartan plaid, then, as slowly as she
could, she descended, following the officer; behind her walked the two
ruffians she so feared, barring all chance of escape. A carriage stood
at the door, into it she was hurried; one of the men got up in front by
the driver, a young lad of twenty, the other behind, she and the officer
inside, and they drove off.
During the dialogue between the officer and his sister Johnny had stood
in mute astonishment. Once he had neared the fender, and thought of
seizing a poker and dealing a blow on the man's skull, but at that
moment the two others entered, and he saw the uselessness of the
attempt. When the end came, and his sister was gone, he still stood
undecided. Maude had sunk down on the floor, where she was sobbing as
if her little heart would break.
"What is to be done, Maude?" said Johnny, in a trembling voice.
"Oh, they will murder her! they will kill my own Ellen! Run, Johnny, run
for help! Mr. Lennox, oh, run!"
"You are right," said Johnny, "you are right, I will run;" and rushing
down stairs, he ran as if all the fiends were after him.
Mr. Lennox was just entering his house, where he had been dropped by Mr.
Ravensworth, whose carriage passed Johnny on his way.
"Come!--for God's sake, come, Mr. Lennox!--quick, quick!--they have
taken away Ellen!--they are murdering her!"
"Why, Johnny, what is all this excitement about? Be calm, young man, be
calm!"
Johnny, in as few words as he could, then detailed the whole
circumstance.
"Not a moment must be lost! I am glad you thought proper to consult me.
Come along, my little man; I am very sorry for your father."
With these words he walked in his usual dignified manner to Mr.
Ravensworth's. Here he found the father in a state bordering almost on
frenzy.
"My daughter!" cried the hapless parent, "my daughter! where have they
taken her to? Oh, Ellen! my child--my beautiful--my darling!"
"Be calm," Mr. Lennox said; "remember to bear is to conquer our fate."
"Talk not to me of calmness; tell the apathetic Stoic to bear his fate.
Oh, Mr. Lennox! you a father, and talk so! Oh, my child! my poor child!
where have they borne you to?--take me to my child!"
"We had better at once proceed to Edinburgh: the Sheriff is my personal
friend. Is your carriage still here?--yes, that will do; the children
had better stay here."
"No, no, they will take them next!--let them come. Johnny--Maude
darling, do not cry so; we will go and find your sister."
With these words they all four speedily took possession of the carriage;
and it needed no words to make the coachman drive fast. During the whole
way Mr. Ravensworth wept like a child. It is a terrible thing to hear a
strong man weep; a woman or a child weeping are every-day events, not so
a man--one who has past through suffering often, and stoically borne it,
and yet gives way at last like a child. Johnny cried too, and little
Maude all the way; and even Mr. Lennox caught the weakness, and felt his
eyes suffuse with tears more than once, though he thought it undignified
in the extreme.
When they reached the Sheriff's house, Mr. Lennox sent in his card, and
said they had come on a matter of vast importance. The Sheriff, Mr.
Murray, was a fine-looking, portly gentleman, of about sixty; he was
evidently no foe to good living, as his corpulence, jolly expression of
face, double chin, and certainly more than red nose, betrayed; his hair
was snow white, which contrasted well with his florid face, and a merry
twinkle in his grey eye showed him a lover of the bottle, and its
boon-fellow, wit. He was sitting over his wine when the two gentlemen
were introduced, and was apparently not altogether pleased at the
interruption. However, he showed that he was quite ready for business,
by putting on his gold spectacles, and taking a pencil and paper to make
notes. Then ordering a couple more glasses, he begged to hear the case.
"Just take a glass of port--you will find it excellent, Mr. Lennox; you
too, sir, will you not join us?"
"No, I thank you," said Mr. Ravensworth, burying his face in his hands.
Mr. Lennox, however, accepted the offer, and then detailed the whole
case to the Sheriff, as Mr. Ravensworth from his emotions was totally
unable to speak. During the recital the unhappy father sobbed aloud.
"This is the most melancholy event I ever remember," said the Sheriff,
wiping his glasses; "to think of one so young--so beautiful as you
say--and yet so depraved!"
"Oh! judge not from appearances!" cried the wretched parent; "she is
innocent as a babe unborn!"
"I regret I cannot see things in the same light; there is every
appearance of guilt, though I cannot detect the motive. But you said
your children were present--where are they?"
"We left them in the carriage."
"I must see them," said Sheriff Murray.
When he had questioned and cross-questioned both Johnny and Maude, he
said:
"All we can do to-night is to drive to the prison and see this unhappy
young lady has every comfort her rank and condition justify--she is
guiltless yet in law."
When the Sheriff and his companions reached the prison, they were much
surprised to find no such lady as Ellen Ravensworth had ever been
brought there, nor had any notice been given them of the murder of
L'Estrange.
"This is passing curious," said the Sheriff; "we had better at once
consult the Earl of Wentworth, he is the fittest person."
Much surprised was the Sheriff when he heard the young lady was the
betrothed wife of the Earl.
"It grows more and more mysterious; let us at once go to the Towers," he
said; "depend upon it this is no proper arrest; the warrant should have
had my signature. Either she has been taken to London by special order
of the king, or else--but I will not say my suspicion. Let us see Lord
Wentworth."
The Earl was standing on the steps, bidding good evening to Lord
Dalkeith, who had dropped in to dinner when the carriage containing our
friends drew up.
"Why, what is all this?" said his lordship, as the three gentlemen got
out, followed by Johnny and Maude, "what in the name of all that's holy
has happened?"
The appearance of the Sheriff, of whom the Earl was an intimate
friend,--Mr. Ravensworth, with his eyes still swollen with grief,--and
Mr. Lennox, were well calculated to induce this question.
"My Lord," said Sheriff Murray, "this is no affair for the ears of all
present; come to your study and we will tell you the strange news."
"You alarm me, Sheriff; this way, come along; what has
happened?--nothing to Ellen Ravensworth, I hope?"
"Indeed your surmise is too true," said the Sheriff; he then told the
whole story. Lord Dalkeith naturally delayed his departure, and with the
Captain and Marquis entered the Earl's study and heard all.
To paint Lord Wentworth's fury and grief would be as impossible as it
would be useless. "'Sdeath and hell!" he exclaimed, his face livid with
ire, "and who has dared touch a hair of her head?"
"Who indeed?" asked Sir Richard, who then entered the room.
"By what power dared the villains do so?--oh, God! had I only stayed an
hour longer!"
"The warrant," exclaimed Mr. Lennox, "was couched in the usual form. I
fear the worst: I fear she has been taken to London by the King's
orders."
"And do you dare insinuate she is an accomplice to a damnable crime?
This to my face! where is the warrant?--how did you see it?"
"I have it here, my Lord; it was lying on the table, I took it, thinking
it might have been of importance."
"This a warrant!" cried the Earl, in a tone of bitter irony; "what, sir,
do you know of warrants who tell me so? You have been duped, Sheriff,
gulled--cheated; this is no warrant; a most foul, diabolical imposture!
A pretty officer to leave his warrant! Up, all who love me, let us track
the demons to their lair!"
"That would be perhaps a difficult matter, my Lord; I never saw the
warrant before, credit me," said Sheriff Murray.
"Talk not to me of difficulty; if she is on the face of the globe I will
find her; and woe! woe to her abductors!"
"You think it an abduction?"
"What else?--a vile, wicked scheme. Perhaps she is now in peril--under
their mercy!--oh, God!" And the Earl clasped his hands in agony.
"And who could her abductor be?--it is not possible it could be
L'Estrange," said Sir Richard.
"You have it!--you have it!--oh, eternal heavens!" cried the Earl, who
scarce knew what he said; "you spoke like a Daniel!"
"It is surely not a collusion--a plan between the two?--It looks
devilish suspicious, by Jove!"
"You are a cold-blooded villain to say so, John, even if you thought it.
Oh! Powers above! I will find this out: there is a mystery about it,
deep,--inscrutable. I will sift it! Oh, Ellen! Ellen! if you have played
me false!--but no, it cannot be;--away, base suspicion! she could not
do so! But woe to the author of this plot!--were he my own nearest,
dearest relative, he should suffer!"
"There is nothing to be done to-night," said the Sheriff.
"Who says so?" cried the Earl, "moments are priceless now. I go to seek
her; come, Dalkeith, we will go to the Duke's."
The two then left, and almost immediately drove away. It would require a
pen dipped in fire to describe the agony of sorrow occasioned by this at
the Towers, Lady Arranmore wept in uncontrolled grief, Lady Florence
nearly fainted, and all was confusion in the hall; Mr. Ravensworth and
the Sheriff drove off, leaving Johnny and Maude by especial desire. Mr.
Lennox took advantage of an invitation of the Marquis, and stayed too.
In groups of two or three they talked over the mischance, and the
Captain was so exceedingly violent, that Lord Arranmore half suspected
he knew more than he would like altogether to be known. It was not till
late the next day that the Earl, weary, and sick at heart, returned from
a fruitless search. So well had the plot been laid not even a whisper of
the carriage, nor any conspirator could be traced home. On his return
the Earl soon sent all the hangers on about their business, including
Mr. Lennox, and made as Wilson, who never dreamed he was an offender,
called "clear decks." Notwithstanding every inquiry not a clue to this
second mystery could be found, and it required no need of the Captain's
wit to put two and two together, and associate the loss of Ellen with
the loss of L'Estrange, and people thought, and naturally, it was a
bold-schemed runaway match; though no one could divine why a girl should
leave a belted Earl for a Captain in the army, and not even that now!
This opinion it was that distressed the Earl above everything, but to
do him justice he could not quite bring himself to believe it. The
Marchioness sustained him in his grief by assuring him that Ellen was
incapable of anything so base. A week of gloom and sorrow rolled away;
it was on Saturday night the abduction had taken place, and again
Saturday came, and still no news. On Sunday none of the family appeared
in their pew, and the Earl passed the day shut up in his study. It was
shortly after they had retired from the dinner table, that old Andrew
informed the Earl a young lady desired to see him on matters of great
moment--she would not give her name!
"Who can it be?"
"It's no Miss Ravensworth, but it is a bonny wench."
"Show her in. Oh! heavens, perhaps she comes with some news of Ellen!"
It was in a state of frantic excitement almost bordering on madness that
the Earl waited for his visitor; at last the door opened, and before
Lord Wentworth stood--who? Juana Ferraras!