KIDNAPPED.
The great house-warming at Rowton Heights was never forgotten by anyone
who was present at it. The merry ball was not only remembered on account
of the grand festivity itself, but because of that mystery and tragedy
which immediately followed it. At the time it went, as Rowton had
prophesied, without a single hitch. Rowton was now a king, and Nance was
a queen. The king had come in for his own again, and the county rejoiced.
Pretty Nance, or Dame Rowton, as the guests called her on account of her
quaint and lovely dress, was the undoubted belle of the occasion. She
suited the quaint rich costume to perfection. Her slim young figure,
her delicate features, the bloom of youth on her cheeks, the sparkle of
hope and happiness in her eyes, gave to her beauty a unique and almost
spiritual appearance. She might have really lived in the days she so
cunningly represented. There was a certain ethereal quality about her
which made her appear at times, and under certain emotions, more spirit
than flesh; but hers was the sort of beauty which no man has ever been
known to resist. There was something womanly, essentially gentle, about
her. It was impossible to connect unkindness, want of charity, or any of
the vices with that sweet face.
Nance was one of those people who feel so much that, like an Æolian
harp, each breath which blew upon her brought out some fresh attribute of
her bright spirit. Never for long could the charming face look the same.
One half hour the cheeks would be bright, the eyes shining, the rosebud
lips would part with smiles; the next, all the colour would have fled,
the pathetic eyes would look full of undefined trouble, the lips would be
too faintly coloured for health; laughter would then be banished, and the
grave face would be too thoughtful for its youth.
To-night, however, Nance showed little of the more sombre side of her
character; the place, the occasion, the presence of her dearly beloved
husband, all helped to raise her to a state of exaltation. She gave
herself up to the happiness of the occasion and the hour.
“What a couple those two make!” said more than one guest as the husband
and wife received their guests near the principal entrance.
“And what a charming little cavalier that boy is!” said a lady who was
devoted to children, and whose eyes wandered over Murray’s handsome
little figure with a certain thrill of sympathy.
The little fellow was dressed as a cavalier of the time of Charles I.,
and the dress suited his picturesque dark beauty to perfection.
“How like his uncle he is!” everyone said.
Once the boy heard the words. He glanced round with a flash in his eyes,
and said excitedly:
“I’m so delighted you say that. I want to be like Uncle Adrian—that is,
in _most_ things.”
He did not add any more. He was devoting himself just then to Lady
Georgina, who, amused with his manly airs, condescended to dance with him
once or twice.
“This is our dance,” he said, running up to her. “I’m so glad it is not
a square dance. I hate square dances. This is a right down jolly waltz.
There’s nothing like a waltz, is there?”
“No, when you are young, and it does not turn you giddy,” said Lady
Georgina.
“Well, you are young enough,” he said, looking up at her.
“And so are you,” she replied with a laugh.
“I wish I were older,” he said. “If I were older, we might be betrothed,
might we not?”
“I don’t think age matters,” said Lady Georgina, “we can be betrothed if
you like.”
“Do you mean it really?”
Murray’s face glowed with delight.
“It is really nice to be engaged,” he said, after a pause, “and you are a
tall lady. I always said I would have a tall lady to be my wife, for then
she might become something like Aunt Nancy. Come on, won’t you? Don’t let
us waste lose a minute of this dance.”
Lady Georgina stepped into the middle of the room, and she and Murray
danced together to the amusement of many people who watched them. As they
approached the other end of the ball-room, they suddenly came plump up
against Hester Winsome. She was passing through the room with a tray of
glasses in her hands. Lady Georgina’s dislike to this girl was increasing
each moment. She stopped now to reprimand her.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “Do you know that it is very wrong
of you to bring glasses into the ball-room? We might have knocked them
all over.”
[Illustration: “What are you doing here? Do you know it is very wrong of
you to bring glasses into the ball-room?”—_Page 211._]
“I am really sorry, madam,” said Hester, dropping a curtsey as she spoke.
“I know I ought to have gone round by the corridor outside, but this part
of the room seemed quite clear just for the moment, and Jacob was in a
hurry. He sent me flying for some fresh glasses. I am very sorry, of
course.”
“Well, don’t do it again,” said Lady Georgina, “and go away now; this is
no place for you.”
Hester tripped across the room, carrying her glasses deftly. Lady
Georgina and Murray prepared to resume their dance. Suddenly Hester’s
face was seen in the doorway.
“Master Murray, may I speak to you for a moment?” she called out.
“What can you want, Hester?” cried the boy. “I am very busy just now. I
can’t leave my partner.”
“I won’t keep you long, sir; there’s something you ought to know.”
Hester’s face looked really troubled.
“I wonder what she wants,” said Murray to Lady Georgina. “Would you mind
very much if I went to her?”
“No, dear,” was the reply, “I’ll sit on the window ledge and wait for
you.”
“Please don’t give our dance to anybody else.”
“No, I will keep it for you, my little lover,” said Lady Georgina,
kissing her hand to the handsome boy.
He laughed back at her and ran out of the ball-room. The moment he did
so, Hester took his hand, and led him a step or two into the supper room.
“I really cannot stay with you, Hester,” he said; “what can you possibly
want with me now?”
“I am very sorry to bother you, Master Murray,” said the girl, “but the
fact is, I am in an awful fright. I am terribly afraid your poor mother
has managed to get loose, sir.”
“My mother! Oh, what do you mean?”
“What I say, Master Murray. I was going through the garden just now, and
I saw someone dressed as your mother dresses running and dodging just
behind the laurel shrubs. If she did get loose, she would think nothing
of going into the ball-room and frightening everyone. I wanted to see Mr.
Rowton about it, and hoped he might be at the lower end of the room.”
“Shall I try and fetch him for you?” said Murray.
“No, sir, it is not necessary; you’ll do just as well as my master.”
“I!” said Murray. His little face turned pale as it always did when his
mother was mentioned. “Perhaps you know, Hester,” he said with a sigh,
“that mother is not very fond of me. I do not see how _I_ am to find her.”
“Of course not, my little gentleman,” said the girl. “Leah is the one
who ought to do that. Now, if anyone could be got to run round to the
Queen Anne wing, Leah would soon put matters straight. I’d go myself, but
there’s such a heap to be done that I really haven’t a single moment.”
“Hester, stop talking there and come and help us,” said Jacob from the
other end of the room.
“Yes, Jacob, I’m coming. Please, Master Murray, would you help us, sir?”
“If I can. Do you want me to go to the Queen Anne wing?”
“Oh, sir, if you only would.”
“But I am never allowed to go there.”
“That don’t matter, sir, on an occasion like the present.” Hester slipped
her hand into her pocket as she spoke. “Here is the key of the little
postern gate in the garden,” she said, lowering her voice. “You know the
Queen Anne garden, of course, Master Murray?”
“Of course I do,” answered Murray.
“Will you go there now, sir? You can open the postern gate easily; then
you have only to run across the garden, and tap with your knuckles on the
back door. Leah will be there to hear, for she is expecting me round with
a bit of supper presently. I promised I would bring her over a trayful.
Go, Master Murray, be quick, tell her what I said.”
“Of course I will,” said Murray. “It would never do for mother to
frighten the people in the ball-room.”
He ran off quickly. The mere thought of his mother had always the power
to depress him, but his spirits were high to-night.
He soon found the postern door, and let himself in. The garden was not
large; he quickly ran across it, and found the back door of the house.
Here he knocked with his knuckles as Hester had desired him to do. His
first knock was unanswered. He repeated it in some impatience. This
time he was evidently heard. He saw through the fanlight overhead the
light of a candle coming nearer and nearer. The next moment the door was
cautiously opened, and a voice said, in muffled tones:
“Who is there?”
“It’s me, Murray Cameron,” said the child.
“Then you are just the person we want, Murray Cameron,” answered the
voice.
A hand was cautiously put out, and the child was pulled into the house.
The candle was immediately extinguished; a cloth was thrown over the
little fellow’s face. He found himself lifted into somebody’s arms and
carried—he did not know where.