Without a word Archy entered the vast hall. He was even self-possessed
enough to help in dragging the great doors back to their places and
securing them with chains and bars. Then, coolly folding his arms, his
eyes travelled around the hall, gloomy but magnificent. Great gilt
chandeliers hung from a noble roof; antlers and hunting trophies adorned
the walls; rusty armor was plentiful, and close to him, looming up in
the darkness pierced by the candle's single ray, was a manikin in armor,
mounted on horseback. With lance in rest, and ghostly caverns in the
casque where the eyes should be, he seemed to stand guard over that
ancient place.
After a moment the officer spoke.
"Did your father never tell you of his half-uncle, near his own
age--Colonel Baskerville, of the Indian service?"
Archy shook his head.
"My father told me as little as possible of his family in England. I do
not even know what his quarrel with them was--only I know he felt a
deep resentment against them."
"He had cause," responded Colonel Baskerville. "My half-brother, Lord
Bellingham, objected violently and unreasonably to your father's
marriage, and it cannot be denied that he ill-treated your mother under
this very roof."
Archy, whose temper was quick, and who knew how to make a prompt
resolve, and then to act upon it, stood still and silent for a moment;
then, turning to the door, began to fumble at the intricate fastening of
the chain, saying, quietly,
"How do you get out of this place, sir?"
"Highty-tighty," replied Colonel Baskerville, good-humoredly; "what are
you trying to do?"
"To get away from here," said Archy. "I think, sir, that when a man has
ill-treated my mother, I ought not to stay one moment in that man's
house."
"But wait. Lord Bellingham ill-treated every member of his family who
dared to marry without consulting his lordship. His only daughter
married Captain Langton, a gentleman of character and fortune; but Lord
Bellingham, who wanted to marry her off to a duke in his dotage, never
forgave her."
"That is another reason why I should not stay in the house of such an
old curmudgeon," responded Archy, with spirit.
"But you will, one day, be Lord Bellingham."
"No, I won't--or, rather, I can't--for I am an American."
Colonel Baskerville's first impulse was to say "Pooh." Luckily, he
refrained--for if he had, Archy, whose hand was on the heavy door-knob,
would have bolted out, and never, probably, would have set foot in those
regions again. But Colonel Baskerville, seeing he had a hot-headed and
impetuous fellow to deal with, only said in response to this:
"Listen. I have lately heard, from a safe quarter, that my brother is
deeply repentant of his treatment of his son and daughter, and would be
glad to atone to their children for his injustice to their parents. No
human being has the right to refuse another human being the privilege of
redressing a wrong--if a wrong may ever be redressed. Therefore, I
insist that you shall see your grandfather."
Archy stood silent for a moment, while the idea took lodgment in his
mind that generosity and forgiveness were not the mere indulgence of an
impulse, but should be a fixed principle of action. He was intelligent
enough to grasp Colonel Baskerville's meaning, and presently he said:
"You are right, sir. However, I never can benefit by my grandfather's
estates, as I know that my father united in cutting the entail. As for
this old rookery, it must take a fortune to keep it up."
"This old rookery, as you call it, is one of the finest specimens of the
feudal age left in England. But let that pass. You are young and
necessarily ignorant. No doubt my brother hopes that the family may be
continued through one of his two grandsons. The other is Midshipman Hugh
Langton, of his Majesty's sea-service."
"Trevor Langton!" cried Archy, breathlessly. "Of the _Seahorse_
frigate?"
"The same. He is a gallant lad, I hear."
"Sir," said Archy, after a painful pause, "it was by a boat's crew of
the _Seahorse_ that I was captured--and Langton and I became great
friends. I never knew we were cousins--and the _Seahorse_ was lost off
the coast of Spain in January, the very day I left her--and I, myself,
saw Langton's body--"
Here he faltered; he could say no more.
Colonel Baskerville's grim face paled, and, putting the candle down
with a shaking hand, he dropped upon the great oaken settee that was
placed against the wall.
[Illustration: "HE PUT THE CANDLE DOWN AND DROPPED UPON THE SETTEE"]
"Poor lad! poor lad!" he said, brokenly, "and his poor mother--she was
the sweetest creature. I had looked forward to seeing her again with so
great happiness, and I already loved her boy."
"He was worthy to be loved," answered Archy, feeling a great sob rising
in his throat. "He was the manliest fellow--"
Then there was a long silence. How strange it all was! Archy, who had
lived the quietest and most prosaic of boyhoods in an American clearing
on the Chesapeake Bay, seemed, from the day of his father's death, to
have fallen into an odd, new world, and sometimes the strangeness of it
all staggered him.
The silence continued. Colonel Baskerville, leaning his head on his
hands, seemed quite overcome by the terrible news that Archy had given
him.
"It will be a dreadful shock and grief to my brother," he said, after a
while.
"If he had known dear Langton as I did, his grief would be greater. When
I was first captured, it was not very comfortable for me in the
gun-room of the _Seahorse_. You know, sir, the extreme prejudice of your
naval service to Commodore Paul Jones--and the fact that I had served
with him was against me, although I protest I think it the greatest
honor in the world to serve under that great man. I did not let the
midshipmen have it all their own way"--here the ghost of a smile came to
Archy's face--"but Langton stood my friend, and I never loved any
companion I ever had half so well. Perhaps, sir, after all, blood is
thicker than water."
"All that you tell me makes me grieve for him the more. Lord Bellingham,
though, has a special disappointment in his death, for you, with your
youth and inexperience, can scarcely understand the overwhelming desire
a man like Lord Bellingham feels to transmit his title and estates to
his descendants; and he has none, except you--and I foresee he would
have a hard task to make you adapt yourself to his views."
"Poor old Lord Bellingham!"
"Poor, indeed, he is, in spite of his rank and estates. I have drawn no
nattering portrait of him--but, like other men, he has his good points.
He is a bundle of contrariety. He is generous and cruel. He is profuse
and parsimonious. He lives in two rooms in luxury, and shuts up the
rest of the castle. His unkindness drove his children away from him, and
he has spent thousands of pounds in trying to get information about them
which one line from him would have brought. He is the finest gentleman
and the most overbearing social tyrant that ever lived. He is a courtier
one minute, a ruffian the next. For my part, as a younger brother with a
pittance besides my pay, I early showed my independence of him--with the
result that he has always treated me with kindness, and I am here now
because an express met me when I landed from India, begging that I come
to him at once. He is very old and feeble. But we are talking too long.
You want food, and fire--and, egad! so do I. There was once a bell
here--" Colonel Baskerville groped along the wall until he came to the
huge cavern of a fireplace, where there was a bell-handle, but the
bell-rope was broken.
"Humph! Well, I know the way to a little breakfast-parlor, where the
servant who let me in told me something would be prepared in a few
minutes. So, come with me!"
Colonel Baskerville made his way out of the great hall into a long
corridor, where, after innumerable windings and turnings and going up
and down stairs, they came to a little, low room, where a servant in
livery opened the door. A bright fire blazed upon the hearth, and some
cold meat and bread and cheese and ale were set out, with splendid
plate, upon a table lighted with wax candles. Archy, who had a robust
young appetite, would cheerfully have dispensed with the plate and the
wax candles for more luxurious fare. Nevertheless, he made great play
with his knife and fork, and Colonel Baskerville was not far behind.
Meanwhile, the elder man watched the younger one intently, and every
moment he felt more and more the stirrings of affection in his
heart--the more so when he remembered that Langton being gone, this boy
was all that remained to maintain the family name and repute. Nor was he
less prepossessed in Archy's favor by observing a strong family likeness
to the Baskervilles. Without being so regularly handsome as the old
lord, Archy was singularly like him, and Colonel Baskerville believed
that when the youth's angular face and form had developed, the
resemblance would be still stronger. Many little personal movements, the
air and manner of speaking and walking, recalled Lord Bellingham, but
Colonel Baskerville concluded it would be a rash man who would point
out to the old gentleman how like him was this young rebel.
"And for such a fine fellow to belong to the American rebels--it is not
to be thought of," reflected this Royalist gentleman. "We must win him
back, but we must be careful, very careful--for he is nice on the point
of honor."
After Archy had devoured everything on the table he stopped eating. When
supper was over the servant who waited upon them--a quiet, well-trained
butler--led them to an upper floor, where two great bedrooms, with
canopied beds, like catafalques, stood in the middle of each.
"I prefer this one," said Colonel Baskerville, when the servant opened
the door of one, a little less vast and sepulchral than the other, but
he accompanied Archy to the door of the next one.
"This, sir," began the servant, "is one of the finest bedrooms in the
castle. It was occupied by the Duke of Cumberland on his return from the
North after the 'forty-five.' It was for him that my lord had these
purple silk bed-curtains and plumes at the corners of the tester put
up."
"Did he?" said Archy, curiously eying the bed. "Well, my man, I think my
lord behaved deuced unhandsome to the Duke of Cumberland in putting him
in this old hearse, and I don't choose to be served the same way; so
you will please 'bout face and show me the way back to the room with the
fire, where I will stick it out till morning. Now, march!"
The man, open-mouthed but dumfounded, turned to lead the way back.
"Good-night, uncle," cried Archy, gayly. "The Duke of Cumberland may
submit to sleep in a hearse with feathers, but I'll be shot if an
American midshipman will. So, good rest to you, and we'll beard the lion
in his den to-morrow morning." And off Archy walked.
Colonel Baskerville, with a smile on his keen, intelligent face,
continued looking after him.
"Ah," he said, aloud, "had your father possessed a tithe of your spirit,
he would not have lived and died a morose exile in a foreign land.
You'll do, my lad; you'll do." And, still smiling, he turned to his room
and locked the door.
Archy lay down before the fire in the little parlor, and, wrapping
himself in his fine cloak, began to think of all the strange things that
had lately befallen him. His mind turned to Langton--so brave, so
chivalrous. He smiled, while the tears came unbidden to his eyes, when
he remembered their first meeting in the cockpit of the _Seahorse_--each
stripped for a rough-and-tumble fight over the merits of the quarrel
between King George and the American colonies. The fight had been a
draw, but some way, without either knowing why, it had never been
renewed. He and Langton had suddenly become friends, and within a week
they were laughing over their scrimmage, and, in friendly bouts, testing
Langton's greater weight and height against Archy's agility and ability
to stand hard knocks. And then came the farewell in the boat--and
afterwards, Langton's white face as the boiling breakers dashed him
towards the rocks. With this thought in his mind Archy suddenly fell
asleep, and did not awake until next morning when the sun was pouring
brightly into the little room.
Breakfast was served in the same room to Colonel Baskerville and
Archy--and a slim breakfast it was. Archy's face grew three-quarters of
a yard long when Diggory, the servant of the night before, with a great
flourish removed the silver covers to show a little toast and a few
rashers of bacon in the dishes. Colonel Baskerville burst out laughing.
"Look, Diggory," he said, "you are not catering now for a gouty old
gentleman like his lordship, but for an old campaigner like myself and
a midshipman like Mr. Baskerville; and go you and bring us some eggs,
and whatever you can lay your fingers upon, and remember to stock the
commissary for dinner."
Diggory went out, and presently reappeared with some additions, and they
made a tolerable breakfast; but Archy remarked that he was not surprised
at his father leaving Bellingham Castle, if that was the fare he was fed
upon.
"And now," said Colonel Baskerville, "I shall go to my brother, and he
will probably send for you shortly. And I--as I particularly wish you to
make a good impression on him--I advise you to send to the village for
your portmanteau and put on some other clothes, for my brother will be
sure to resent violently your wearing the American uniform."
"He appears to have resented violently what all of his family did,
without considering the clothes they wore; but, uncle, I tell you I will
not take off this uniform. I have my parole, which protects me; and if I
ever give this uniform up, to anybody's threats or persuasions, I give
up my character as a prisoner of war--and that, seems to me, would be a
great blunder--so, if Lord Bellingham does not like my clothes--well, I
have some money left, and I can get to France on my parole; and, in
short, uncle, I am, like you, independent of my grandfather."
"You are a very rash and headstrong young man," was Colonel
Baskerville's reply, "but you will learn to be less so if you have any
brains at all. You will not be sent for, I am sure, before noon, so you
will have time to examine the castle and park, if you like."
Colonel Baskerville went out, and Archy, nothing loath, began his
examination of the place. As he knew that he and Colonel Baskerville
would have to go to the village later in the day to give their evidence
of the attempt at highway-robbery, he chose rather to examine the
interior of the castle. He spent hours going over it--later on he was to
spend days in the same employment--and every moment his respect for the
"old rookery" increased. First he went to the great hall. Built in the
reign of Henry VIII., it was a noble specimen of sixteenth-century
architecture. The beauty of the groined roof was clearly visible by the
morning light, that streamed in the long, narrow slits of windows. On
every side hung dented armor and helmets that had evidently seen
service, and Archy felt a natural thrill of pride at remembering that
these sturdy fighting men were his forefathers. Besides the armor,
there were on the walls every conceivable variety of ancient weapon--the
long arquebuse of Elizabethan days, claymores taken from the Scottish
knights and gentlemen who defended Mary Stuart at Langside, the huge
swords carried by Cromwell's Ironsides--and all, Archy felt, with a
stirring history attached to them. That motionless knight in armor, with
his iron-bound legs sticking stiffly out from the sides of his stuffed
horse, tremendous spurs fastened to his boots of Spanish leather, and
his lance in rest, seemed to stand watch and ward over this storehouse
of dead and gone valor. Archy could scarcely tear himself away; but a
door in the distance, half open, gave him a glimpse of a long, low
picture-gallery, its walls glowing with color, and he walked nimbly
towards it. Yes, it was very, very beautiful. It was much less sombre
than the hall, and girandoles placed thickly along the wall showed that
it could be illuminated by night as well as day. If the arms and
accoutrements of these people pleased him, how much more did their
counterfeit presentments! The first portrait on which his eye fell was
"Sir Archibald Baskerville, Baronet, 1620-1676, general in the army of
the Commonwealth, concerned in battles of Edgehill and Marston Moor, and
in the capture of Charles I. Voted in Parliament for the King's release
on parole, and on the execution of the King retired to his seat,
Bellingham Castle, where he was arrested by Cromwell's order and
imprisoned for several years, but was finally released and his estate
restored to him by Charles II."
Well, that Archibald Baskerville was a brave and successful rebel,
thought Archy, and perhaps his descendant may have even better fortune.
"Rather a hard-looking beggar, though--looks like the highwayman I
knocked down last night. I certainly have the advantage of him in having
the air of an honest fellow and a gentleman," was Archy's inward
comment. But there were scores of others besides Sir Archibald. There
were grave judges and frowning admirals, and a bishop or two, besides
many red-faced country gentlemen--and the first Lord Bellingham--a laced
and powdered dandy of the days of Queen Anne. And there were staid old
dowagers, and round-faced matrons, and groups of quaint children, and my
Lady Bellingham in farthingale and hoop, and some fair young girls, now,
alas! but dust and ashes. As in the hall, Archy would have lingered, but
still ahead of him he saw a pair of beautifully carved doors of black
oak, and examining them, and turning the wrought-iron handles, he
entered a great square room, as large as the entrance-hall, and all
books from top to bottom. Archy paused, actually awe-stricken, for,
although he had lately given but little time to books, he loved and
respected them from the bottom of his heart, and he respected the people
who had spent such vast sums on learning.
The room was low-ceiled, and the many windows were from the roof to the
floor; and over and above all was that air of quiet, of studious
retirement, which is the very aroma of the true library.
As Archy's eyes travelled around this charming apartment, he noticed
there were some busts and a few pictures, and as he advanced into the
room he saw, just over the door by which he had entered, a picture with
its face to the wall. It did not take Archy long to scramble up by the
door and get a good look at the picture, and after a glimpse he
deliberately, and with some trouble, turned it face outward, wiped it
off carefully with his handkerchief, slipped down from his perch, and,
advancing to the middle of the room, stood gazing at it with moist eyes,
in which a gleam of anger shone, too, for it was his father's portrait.
There was no mistaking it, although it represented a youth of about
Archy's age; but the clear-cut, melancholy face, with the deep eyes and
thin lips--it was life-like. Whatever the elder Archibald Baskerville's
failings were--and they had been many, a violent and morose temper among
them--his only child had loved and respected him. One determination had
dwelt in Archy's heart ever since he could remember, and that was never
to let any one cast, even by implication, a slur upon his father without
resenting it as far as he could. Perhaps a dim, instinctive knowledge
that his father was, in truth, a very faulty man was the mainspring of
this feeling. But Archy was by nature loyal, and not afraid to show his
loyalty; and the same spirit which had made him, when a little lad, fly
furiously at other lads who dared, with childish cruelty, to taunt him
with his father's silence and moroseness and singularity, made him now
promptly show that he thought his father's picture worthy of a place of
honor.
While Archy was looking at the portrait with earnest eyes he heard a
step behind him, and there stood Major Baskerville.
"What do you think of the old rookery now?" he asked.
"I never dreamed of anything like it," was Archy's sincere reply.
Colonel Baskerville smiled, and then said:
"Lord Bellingham wishes to see you in his own room, and," he added, with
a smile, "I wish he had asked me to be present at the meeting. It will
be rare sport."
"Do you think so, sir?" answered Archy, airily, and flushed with his
achievement regarding the picture.
"I know it. He has never been defied in his life. I did not defy him. I
simply went my own way as a younger half-brother with little to hope or
fear from him. But you are his natural heir, and, although he can keep
you out of the property, he can't keep you out of the title if you want
it."
"But I don't want it, and can't use it, sir; and as to his keeping me
out of the property, some of that would be precious little use to me.
What would I do with a castle? I am a sailor, sir, and I would rather
have a seventy-four than all the castles in England. So here goes."
And Archy marched off to meet Lord Bellingham, not wholly unprepared
what to say and do.