"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania."
_Midsummer Night's Dream._
"My strength thou mayest indeed overcome, for God made women weak,
and trusted their defence to man's generosity."--_Ivanhoe._
"Ha! my fair damsel," said Captain de Vere, as he entered the room with
Stacy and L'Estrange, for to them we must again return; "you see we are
come to drill you in true love-making, and teach changeable girls their
duty to return to their first love."
"How dare you enter a lady's room?" replied Ellen, in a haughty voice.
"You, an officer in the King's army! Do you not blush to own it? You, a
man, and insult an unprotected maiden!"
"Ho! that does not go down with me," said the Captain. "Hear her, Bill.
Egad! one would think she was queen, and we her humble prisoners!" and
he gave a brutal laugh at his jest. "You are proud, my fine girl; we
will bring you down a bit; were you proud as Lucifer you should bend. I
have never been bearded by man in my life, and, by G--! a girl in her
teens does not do so!"
As he said these words he walked forward to where Ellen stood.
It would be untrue to say Ellen was not dismayed by the bold soldier's
attitude; her words belied her heart.
"Fear not, my pretty one; you are as pert as a finch--and I like you for
it. Egad! I envy Ned his sweetheart. But we will leave you together to
talk it out, or fight it out."
It was a dreadful moment for Ellen; close to her stood the Captain with
an unrelenting and cruel eye on her; a short distance behind was old
Bill, whose face betrayed no emotions whatever; lingering on the
threshold was L'Estrange; he looked as if ashamed of the part he was
playing, and Ellen, with her quick discernment, read hope only in his
countenance, and thanked God inwardly it was with him and not the
Captain she had to deal.
For a few moments the Captain only glared on his innocent victim.
Then he said, "Come along, Bill, let's leave the lovers."
"Get up your courage, Ned," he continued; "why, Lord bless me, you look
as pale and frightened as if you were to be hung, instead of going to
woo a fair lady."
"Let's away now," said old Bill.
So saying he turned to leave the room, whither the Captain followed him,
saying to L'Estrange, as he left, "Egad! she is a fine creature; and, by
Jove! I envy your luck. If you can't come round her, remember you have
only to stamp your foot--we are below; and were she St. Agnes herself I
will see if she escapes me."
He then disappeared behind the wainscoting by the secret door; the arras
flapped behind him, shaken by the wind of the door shutting. He slowly
descended the stairs, and entered a lower room, or rather, vault, where
old Bill kennelled. An oil-lamp burned on the table, and shed a fitful
light on the rough features of the old tar, and the soldierly but
fierce-looking Captain, as they drank, and talked, and swore.
"Where the deuce has Antonia earthed herself?"
"The deevil kens best," was the reply.
"Then you should know, Bill; for I often think you are his Satanic
Majesty incarnate."
"I scarce think I'm worse than you, Jack; at yer years I wur a heap
better."
"Stow your abuse. But what, in the fiend's name, has that to do with
Juana? I tell you, Bill, I do mistrust that wench. Where hides she now?
Heaven forfend she may not have betrayed us!"
The old man laughed.
"That wur a fool's trick. It wur to ruin herself. Nae fears, trust Tony;
she ain't the idiot you take her for."
"I will trust no woman! I' faith, I know the sex. If Ned plies his game
well he will bring Ellen round to love him yet. G--'s name! she is a
fine girl! I am smitten, by Jove! I'll allow it."
"You are a fool, then, not to board her yourself. D--n me if I would
have thought, and plotted, and worked for another man's wench."
"There is truth in it; but where the h-- is Tony? I have a misgiving we
are betrayed."
"Your misgiving be d--d. Tony's as true as steel, and sharp as a
slasher."
The two then conversed on different matters; their conversation being
well interlarded with oaths and curses. And in this way the best part of
half an hour slipped away, when a stamp was heard on the floor above.
The Captain started up with, "The faint-hearted fool; I see he has no
stomach for the siege. I'll up and show him how to storm the
breastworks; and if I win her love, by G-- I'll have it, too. I begin to
repent my folly in not making up to the girl myself. Now he has given me
the chance, see if I don't improve on it!"
He rose, and ere he strode for the door, glanced through the window on
to the green. "Death and furies! I knew it! we are betrayed!" he cried,
through his clenched teeth when he saw the Earl and several others
appear. "Earth, Stacy--there is treason, and Juana is traitor! Off, I
say. The siege has been raised!"
It needed no words; like a startled rat the old man dived into a recess,
and the Captain fled by a back passage to his horse, which he mounted,
leaving L'Estrange to his fate. Trusting that Juana had not dared to
implicate him in her confession, he rode round and appeared as we have
seen, determined to terrify Ellen into silence; he felt sure L'Estrange
knew him too well to be puzzled at his apparent desertion. He was most
fearful of Juana; but this fear was dispelled by his short interview
with her at the door.
We must now return to Ellen and L'Estrange. When the Captain and Stacy
were gone, Ellen felt able to breathe; she had some hope in the milder
disposition of L'Estrange; and she determined to try him both by proud
defiance and a woman's last resource--supplication and tears. As the
Captain thought, it was evident he had little heart for it; and as he
stood silent and undetermined at the door, Ellen despised him for his
lack of courage in pressing the very suit she most dreaded. For a long
time neither moved nor spoke; it was a scene worthy an artist's pencil,
if, indeed, he could have caught the different expressions on these two
young persons' faces, which made the conqueror stand like a captive
bondman, and the captive like a victorious queen! Ellen's face never
blanched, nor did her lip quiver, nor did her voice tremble, as she
addressed him:
"It falls again to my lot to open conversation; and I ask, with
unaffected surprise, the meaning of this scene--of my captivity--and
your presence where all high feelings, manly sentiment, and soldierly
honour forbid your intrusion?"
"I thank you for your words; they give me nerve and steel my breast. We
are now in altered positions, Miss Ravensworth; it was I who was
suppliant last time, and now I am in a position to demand."
"Methinks it sits ill upon you," said Ellen; "a third person would, I
think, see in you the suppliant still."
"You jest with your head in the lion's mouth."
"You wrong the noble animal; rather compare yourself to the jackall that
battens on the quarry the lion hunts down."
"Lady, you are severe; but it becomes not your present position to bandy
words with your--"
"Oppressor," supplied Ellen, finishing his sentence. "And are you sunk
so low, Edward L'Estrange, as to be the oppressor of her you once said
you loved? Have I lived to see one I ever thought worthy of the name of
Briton stoop to be a woman's oppressor? You are under a cloud; you are
not yourself; you have been led away by wicked men! Show yourself what
once you were,--too high, too proud to crush one whom those bolder in
guilt and vice have hunted down; in your very sins be a man, and not a
base tool!"
"Oh! do not speak thus! you will kill me! Hear me, Ellen! Love me once
more. It is my passion for you led me to do all this. Only say you will
love me, and remember all this as a dream--as a horrid dream."
"Whatever I might once have done, your conduct has totally broken the
last bond even of friendship. Love you, Edward L'Estrange? You cannot
know what love is. It is a passion, in pureness and height as far above
your base ideas as the frame you bear, but disgrace by your deeds, is
above the meaner brutes, whose passions you seem to emulate. I may
forgive you if you will restore me to my home and those I love; I may
hold you guiltless of this abduction and insult; but love you--oh,
_never!_ how could you even dream of it?"
"You forget, proud maiden, where, and in whose hands you are; last time
it was in your power to crush me, and you used it; this time you are my
captive, and I will make my own terms. Terms, said I? I will not even
make terms. You are mine. You are in my power. You shall--you must--be
my wife."
"Edward L'Estrange, by all the memory of better days, I beseech you
pause ere you do this dastard action! I will not think so darkly of you
as to suppose you are capable of doing what you threaten. I throw myself
on your honour. If there is one spark remaining in your breast,--if all
that is good, all that is brave, all that is virtuous has not wholly
died away,--if there is only a glimmer lingering after all that, like
the sun, has set,--wrong me not! There is no glory in overpowering a
weak woman; there is nothing brave, nothing soldierly in it; it is but a
mean action to overcome those who are weaker. Man was formed to protect
woman, not to injure her. Oh! be yourself again. I appeal to your
honour! Oh! hear me!"
"My honour is gone; I am void of all that is good; in one only thing I
am still human,--in love to thee!"
"Degenerate man! and can you speak your shame? Have you nothing left?
Oh! your words belie your heart; it is not so black as you have painted
it. Throw down the idol that has usurped its throne; root out the weeds
that rankle there,--burn out the plague spot!"
"Ellen," replied the wretched man, in a hollow tone, "I am sold to the
Evil One; all that is good is departed from me; all that is evil lives
and dwells in me. But why do I delay? You must, you _shall_ be my wife!
refuse me no longer; I have sworn it; you are my prisoner; appeal not
to my mercy,--it is gone! Appeal not to my honour,--I have none! I have
no pity. I glory in my shame. I will force you to be my wife; there is a
priest below, he will join our hands; refuse me no more! I am settled,
fixed, steeled for the worst."
"A mock priest, like your officers! Oh! degraded, wretched young man, if
nothing holy, nothing divine moves you, see if earthly threats will
avail. I tell you, L'Estrange, you stand on a mine,--you totter on a
volcano; it will burst, and hurl your soul and body to the hell to which
you have sold yourself! You do not dare touch me; you dread the Earl's
power too much. You speak proudly,--you are not able to perform!"
"Am I not? You are alone; you are far from all, save those who are
darker than _me_, and more wicked. I will have the ceremony read, and
then you are mine! Nothing can sever us. Ha!--how like you that?"
"Listen, unhappy young man,--you are not able to perform your threats.
Wedded to me you shall never be while I live! I have in my hand the
means of my own death,--see this dagger! Before your defiling touch can
reach me, it shall be sheathed in my heart; you will see Ellen
Ravensworth has the power and has the determination to end this scene,
though her death only does so! And yet it is hard to die with friends so
near; but if death only places a gulf between us, I can die, and at
least die preserving my lord's honour! But dread him; from my early
tomb, dread his vengeance! I may die, depending on God's mercy; but woe
to thee!--death first, and after death eternity. Punishment may flag
here,--it will not there."
"Ellen, let me undeceive you; you think that the Earl strives to rescue
you,--it is not so! Your own mind might have told you that. The Earl has
been told you are fled with me; he believes it, and, deeming you
unworthy of his love, he has disowned you,--he ceases to care for you!"
"Oh! it is impossible! Lost, wretched as you are, you could not,--you
could not have told him so."
"I said not that I did; but know it is nevertheless true. Think you he
would have left you so long unrescued had it not been so? Be
wise,--accept this hand, and I will live to make you happy."
"God be merciful to me, when all forsake me!" said Ellen, in a voice
that went to L'Estrange's heart.
"Come, Ellen, do not be obstinate; be my wife; say one word to tell me
so."
"Never! You may torture me,--I am in your power,--you may kill me:
nothing will make me give but one answer,--'No!'"
"Then your blood be on your own head."
L'Estrange advanced as though to seize her; but at the same moment she
drew forth the blade, and placing its point on her breast, said--
"The instant that you touch me I drive this into my heart! Glory over my
cold remains,--your hand shall never touch me living!"
Involuntarily L'Estrange stepped back; he knew Ellen's character too
well to suppose it was only a threat; he knew that the moment he touched
her she would fall a lifeless corpse; he loved her; however base his
passion had grown he still loved that girl too much to tempt such a
catastrophe; for a moment he stood in suspense, and then said--
"I must, then, call others who have less mercy in them than I have. I
own I am yet too young in crime; once more,--will you yield to fair
measures?"
"Never!"
"Then, by G--!--for you would drive the veriest Job out of patience--you
shall to foul!"
With these words he struck the ground with his foot heavily. The stamp
seemed as if it struck Ellen's heart; she saw all her hopes fade in that
sound; she had rightly judged L'Estrange would not proceed to violence;
and the longer she could temporize with him, the better chance of her
life being saved, and succour coming; but she knew the Captain would at
once compel her to proceed to her last bitter resource,--death! She was
fully determined she would die, if matters came to extremity; and now,
in a few more minutes, those desperate men would drive her to it. Oh! it
was cruel! Perhaps, even now, her lover was nigh, and friends and rescue
near! And then she thought, perhaps he had told her true, and she was no
longer an object of solicitude. She prayed in an agony; she listened
every moment to hear his footsteps approach. L'Estrange, too, listened
in suspense. What! had they played him false? He stamped again.
"You escape not thus, maiden; if no one will come, thank God, I can
overcome you without their aid!"
Like a tiger he sprung on the despairing girl; she struck wildly for her
heart, uttering a shriek as she did so,--the first that was wrung from
her bosom by her awful situation. The blow never reached: caught by the
quick arm of L'Estrange, he had seized the dagger, and flung it to the
other end of the room; at the same moment a loud shock almost shattered
the door. He sprang back as if a viper had bitten him.
"They are come, thank God! Oh, He never failed me yet!"
"Who?" asked L'Estrange, in a hollow voice.
Again the crash came; once more the door stood the shock! An interval of
awful silence reigned; he heard confused sounds, among which he
distinguished the Earl's voice, and then he heard the Captain cry--
"I will help!"
"He has betrayed me," thought L'Estrange. "I care not,--they must beard
the lion in his den!"
He drew forth a pistol and cocked it; Ellen heard the sound, but she
almost heeded it not,--she was buried in prayer. L'Estrange had time to
escape ten times over; there was the secret door, known to none but
himself and his colleagues, and from this he might have escaped, and
hidden with old Stacy in the dungeons to which it led; but he was either
petrified, or the hopes of avenging himself on the Earl and Ellen at
once, in his lordship's death, induced him to remain.
Once more the tremendous crash thundered on the door, and this time the
mighty gate gave way before the strength that stormed it, and over the
ruins he saw the assaulters. Their howl of vengeance moved him not. He
saw the Earl, the Marquis, and many others. Could he believe his
eyes,--behind them stood the Captain!
"He has, then, betrayed me, and he dies for it!"
He was about to fire, when a masonic sign from the Captain stayed his
hand, just in time, and he reserved the shot for the Earl!