completely had the frenzy of this poor deluded idiot developed itself
in this short interval. Some violent paroxysm was evidently
approaching; and her object was, if possible, to procure the
liberation of Egerton before her guide should be rendered either
unwilling or incapable. He suddenly assumed a more calm and consistent
demeanour, while, to her great joy, she heard him climbing the stair.
She followed as closely as the darkness would permit, and heard him
pause after ascending a few steps. Then a bolt was withdrawn, her hand
was seized, and she was led hastily through the aperture. It was the
entrance to a small chamber in the tower, lighted by the grating
before named, through which the moonlight came softly, like a wizard
stream, into the apartment.
By this light she saw something coiled up in a corner, like a human
form in the attitude of repose. It was the prisoner Egerton, fast
asleep. Nature, worn out with suffering, was unconsciously enjoying
for a season the bliss of oblivion. He heard not the intruders, until
Marian gently touched him, when, starting up, he cried--
"Is mine hour come? so soon! I thought"--
"Here be victuals; thy grave's not ready yet," said the maniac.
Soon the soft voice of the maiden fell calmly and quietly on his
bosom: and in that hour Egerton felt how noble, how self-denying, was
the spirit guiding the hand that ministered to him in the hour of
danger and distress. Her disinterestedness was now manifest. Of
another creed, and fully aware, perhaps, that he had been one of the
most zealous persecutors of those who aforetime were hunted like the
wild roe upon the mountains; he found that she had knowledge of him,
generally, as belonging to the Royalist party, though not individually
as to his rank and character.
If she had set herself to win his favour by draughts and
love-philtres, she could not have compassed her design more
effectually. His impetuous nature was alike impatient of restraint
either in love or in war; but in the latter instance the flame had
burnt so rapidly that it was nigh extinguished. This maiden being
renowned through the whole neighbourhood for her beauty, as well as
the natural and engaging simplicity and gentleness of her manners,
appertaining to one of high birth, nurtured in courts, rather than in
so humble a station, the cavalier had beforetime looked on her with a
favourable glance, but not with eyes at which the god Hymen would have
lighted his torch. Now, so strange and wayward is that capricious
passion which men call love, that when beset with dangers, his life in
jeopardy, and threatened with death on every hand, he seemed to cling
even to this lowly one as though his soul were bound to hers. Love,
that mighty leveller, for a season threw down every barrier--the pride
of birth, and the rank and sphere which were his birthright--nor did a
licentious thought find a resting-place in his bosom. Young and
ardent, he had spoken to her beforetime, though not explicitly, on the
subject; and Marian, knowing none other but that he was a wayfaring
man, of little note--so he represented himself--regarded his handsome
person, his kindness, and his attentions, with still less appearance
of disfavour.
"Thou shouldest be mine, Marian," said he, "were I"----
"Never!" she replied, interrupting him; but a sudden heaving of the
breast showed the anguish that one hopeless word cost her.
Stephen was in the chamber, still hurrying to and fro, too fully
absorbed in his own abstractions to understand or attend to what was
passing.
"And wherefore?" inquired the cavalier, with some surprise.
"Wherefore? Ask your own nature and condition; your pride of station,
which I have but lately known; your better reason, why; and see if it
were either wise or fitting that one like yourself--though of your
precise condition I am yet ignorant--should wive with the daughter of
a poor but honest tapster. Suffer this plainness; I might be your
bauble to-day, and your chain to-morrow."
"Thou dost wrong me!" said the cavalier; and he took her hand
tenderly, almost unresistingly, for a moment. "I would wear thee as my
heart's best jewel, and inlay thee in its shrine. It is but fitting
that the life thou hast preserved should be rendered unto thee."
"Nay, sir," said she, withdrawing her hand, "my pride forbids it; ay,
pride! equal, if not superior to your own. I would not be the wife of
a prince on these terms; nor on any other. 'Be not unequally yoked.'
Will not this wholesome precept hold even in a carnal and worldly
sense? I would not endure the feeling of inferiority, even from a
husband. 'Twould but be servitude the more galling, because I could
neither persuade myself into an equality, nor rid me of the chain."
"Thou dost reason wondrously, maiden. 'Tis an easy conquest, when
neither passion nor affection oppose our judgment; when the feelings
are too cold to kindle even at the spark which the Deity himself hath
lighted for our solace and our blessing in this valley of tears."
"Mine!--Oh! say not they are too cold, too slow to kindle. They are
too easily roused, too ardent, too soon bent before an earthly idol;
but"--here she laid her hand on his arm--"but the right hand must be
cut off, the right eye plucked out. I would not again be their slave,
under the tyranny and dominion of these elements of our fallen nature,
for all the pomps and vanities which they would purchase. There be
mightier obstacles than those of expediency, as thou dost well
imagine, to thy suit; but these are neither coldness nor
indifference." Here her voice faltered with emotion, and her heart
rose, rebelling against her own inflexible purpose, in that keen, that
overwhelming anguish of the spirit. She soon regained her composure,
as she uttered firmly: "They are--my altar and my faith!"
Egerton felt as though a sudden stroke had separated them for ever--as
though it were the last look of some beloved thing just wrenched from
his grasp. This very feeling, had none other prompted, made him more
anxious for its recovery; and he would have urged his suit with all
the energy of a reckless desperation, but the maiden firmly resisted.
"Urge me not again: not all the inducements I trust that even thou
couldest offer would make me forget my fealty! No more--I hear thee
not. The tempter I know hath too many allies within the
citadel--worldly vanities and unsubdued affections--to suffer me to
parley with the traitors and listen to their unholy suggestions. Again
I say, I hear thee not."
Finding it was in vain, he forbore to persecute her further; and after
having merely tasted of the cordial, and partaken of a slight
refreshment, he listlessly inquired if the term of his imprisonment
would soon expire.
"Tarry here for a season, until the heat and energy of the pursuit be
overpast, or at least abated. We could not find a more fitting place
of concealment."
"Being straitened for moneys until we can obtain succour from our
friends, I cannot reward your hospitality as I would desire; but if we
are brought forth and delivered safely from this thrall, thy father's
house shall not be forgotten."
"We will not touch the least of all thy gifts," said the maiden:
"forbid that we sold our succour to the distressed, though it were to
the most cruel and bitter of our enemies!"
A sudden thought excited this noble-hearted female. She cautiously
approached her companion, who, having discontinued his perambulations,
had seated himself in a corner, awaiting the termination of their
interview. Knowing that he had generally a hoard of moneys about his
person--for covetousness was ever his besetting sin--she ventured to
solicit a loan, either for herself or the stranger, judging that
Egerton's escape would be much impeded, if, as he had just confessed,
his finances were hardly sufficient for his ordinary expenditure.
"And so I must give my blood and my groats to nourish thy sweethearts,
wench," said the surly money-lender. "I have saved this prelatist and
malignant from his adversaries, and now"----He considered a while,
muttering his thoughts and arguments to himself with a most confused
and volatile impetuosity of ratiocination. In a short time he seemed
to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion through all this obscurity,
and drew out a handful of coin, of some low denomination, apparently
by the sound, and placed it in the hands of his fair suitor.
"There--there--one, two, three. Never mind, wench; I could have
counted 'em once with the best clerkman i' the parish; and for the
matter of that, I've told 'em oft enough, though,--but the count
always seems to slip from me. It is all I have, save the price of my
life; and I would not part with that for a world's worth; for what
should it profit me, when with it I had bought my grave?"
Marian immediately transferred the long-hoarded treasure into the
hands of the cavalier.
"Thanks; yea, better than these, for they were a poor recompense, my
peerless maiden. I scruple not to receive this loan at thine hands,
because it is part of the means thou dost employ for my escape. Yet
doubt not of my willingness and ability to repay thee tenfold. Thou
wilt not deny me this silly suit."
As he said this, he, with the greatest gallantry and devotedness,
kissed the hand held forth to supply his exigency. He was accompanying
the movement with some fair and courtly speech when a loud and
terrible cry startled him. It was more like the howl of some ravenous
beast than any sound which human organs ever uttered. Curses
followed--horrible, untold--the suggestion of fiends in their
bitterness and malignity. Then came the cry, or rather shriek--
"Lost! lost!" at irregular intervals.
The cavalier and his companion were much alarmed by this unexpected
occurrence. They doubted not that the foul fiend was before them,
bodily, in the form of this poor maniac. After a short interval of
silence, he cried, approaching them fiercely--
"Ye have sold me, soul and body, to the wicked one. May curses long
and heavy light on ye! The coin! the coin! Oh, that accursed thing! I
have bought thy grave, stranger; and my day of hope is past!"
The latter part of the speech was uttered in a tone of such deep and
heartrending misery that pity arose in place of terror in the bosom
of his auditors. Marian ventured to address him, hoping she might
assuage or dissipate the fearful hallucination under which he
laboured.
"There is yet hope for the repenting sinner. The hour of life is the
hour of grace: for that, and that only, is life prolonged. Turn to Him
from whom thou hast backslidden, nor add unto thy crime by wilfully
rejecting the free offers of His mercy."
"Mercy!--Life!" Here he laughed outright. "Hearest thou not my
tormentor?--Life!--I am dead, wench; and my grave is waiting for me,
dug by these accursed fingers. That grave I digged for thee is now
mine. Unwittingly have I bought it, and the coin is in thy purse!"
It seems the poor maniac, in replacing the mysterious coin to which,
from some cause or other, he attached such importance, had
unthinkingly added it to the common hoard, and in this manner conveyed
it to the stranger, whose grave he persisted he had bought by this
transfer; and nothing could shake his belief in so marvellous a
conclusion.
The cavalier attempted to comfort him; and in order to make the
delusion subservient to the removal of its terrors, he offered to
restore the coin, or even the whole of what he had received, that the
simple gravedigger might be certain he had it in possession.
"'Tis needless; the token, once from my grasp and in the fingers of
another whose grave I have digged, would never change my doom by its
return. Keep what thou hast; and may it serve thee more faithfully
than it hath served me! But remember--let me say it while my senses
hold together, for I feel the blast coming that shall scatter them to
the four winds--remember, if thou part therefrom, as I have done, to
some doomed one, thou shalt go to the grave in his stead. But a
charmed life is thine as long as it is in thy possession. Away--leave
me--the master will be here presently for his own. Leave me, I say;
for when the fiend cometh, he'll not tarry. But be sure you make fast
the door, lest I escape, and mischief happen, should I get abroad."
"Stephen!" said Marian, "slight not the mercy of thy God, nor
dishonour His name, by hearkening to the suggestions of the enemy. His
arm is not shortened, nor His ear heavy."
"I know it; but when the fiend came, and found the house swept and
garnished, did he not take unto himself seven other spirits more
wicked than himself, and was not the latter end of that man worse than
the first?"
"Yet," said Marian, "would he have been delivered if he had cried out
to the strong man armed."
"But he would hear no refutation, persisting in the thought that his
crime was unpardonable, since he had relapsed after the devil was cast
out." During the present paroxysm, it was in vain to thwart him
further; indeed their stay was attended with some hazard, of which, it
seems, he felt aware, inasmuch as he drove them forth without
ceremony. Availing themselves of his suggestion they bolted the door
on the outside, thus preventing any further mischief. Here was a
perplexing and unforeseen dilemma; and how to dispose of the cavalier
was a question of no slight importance. At present the only
alternative was to convey him to his fellow-traveller, Chisenhall,
who, comfortably established in his narrow loft, was quite unconscious
of the events that were passing so near him.
As they left the cemetery they heard the groans and cries of the
unfortunate victim, suffering, as he imagined, from the resistless
power of his tormentor.
Early, with the early dawn, Marian again sought the dwelling of Gilgal
Snape. She earnestly entreated him that he would make all speed to the
chapel--again exercising his peculiar gift in "binding the strong man
armed," or, in other words, dispossessing the demoniac.
The benevolent divine instantly accompanied her, and forthwith
proceeded to the relief of the possessed. Howls and shrieks accosted
him as he ascended the stair.
"I must be alone," said he; "no earthly witness may be nigh. Strong in
faith, by the grace that is given me, I doubt not that this also thou
wilt vouchsafe to thine unworthy dust,"--he raised his eyes toward
Heaven;--"yet should I fail, He will not let me be overcome, nor fall
into the snare of the wicked one; for I know, and am assured, that
this trial shall turn out to the furtherance of His glory!"
Marian left him at the entrance. But, with the minister's appearance
in the chamber, the agony of the deluded sufferer seemed to quicken,
as if the sight of him who was the herald of mercy only added fresh
fuel to his torments. Marian was fain to depart; her ears almost
stunned with the cries and howlings of the demoniac. She withdrew in
great agitation, her knees almost sinking under their burden. Hardly
conscious of the removal, she reached her own chamber, where, covering
her face with both hands, she wept bitterly. This outburst of tears
relieved her; though she still suffered from the recent excitement.
Her former resolutions were strengthened by the terrible example she
had just witnessed; and the backsliding impenitent she looked upon as
a watchlight to warn her from the rocks whereon he had made shipwreck.
Some hours passed on, but no tidings came from the "abbey." She often
looked out across the path, and towards the stile which led to the
ruins; but all was undisturbed. The sun shining down, bright and
unclouded, all was harmony and peace--"all, save the spirit of man,
was divine"--all fulfilling their Maker's ordinances, and his behest.
The sun was creeping down towards the dark low tower of the chapel;
and Marian was still at the door, gazing out anxiously for
intelligence. She saw a figure mounting the stile. It was--she could
not be mistaken--it was the reverend and easily-recognised form of
Gilgal Snape. She ran down the path to meet him; and she could not
help noticing that he looked more sedate than usual, appearing
harassed and disquieted, betraying more obviously the approach of age
and infirmities.
"Have you wrestled with the adversary and prevailed?" inquired she,
anxiously.
"I have had a fearful and a perilous struggle. The fight was long;
but, by the sword of the Spirit, I _have_ prevailed."
"Has the backslider been brought again to the fold?"
"He hath, I trust, been found of the Good Shepherd; and he now
sleepeth in Abraham's bosom!"
"Dead! Hath the grave so soon demanded its prey?"
"I left him not until the spirit was rendered unto Him who gave it. He
entreated me sore that I would not leave him until I had watched his
dismissal from the body."
"Then do I know of a surety that the evil spirit was cast out, and the
lost one restored."
"There was joy in heaven over a repentant sinner this day. When the
dark foe was vanquished, his spirit came again as a little child, and
the leprosy of his sin was healed. Verily, the evil one, ere he was
overthrown, did utter many strange words touching things to come, and
our present perplexities. There seemed to be a spirit of divination
within him which did prophesy. Marian," continued the divine, with a
scrutinising look, "he did tell of thy dealing with our enemies, and
that thou dost even now nourish and conceal those of whom we are in
search."
"If thine enemy hunger"----But Marian was hastily interrupted in her
plea.
"But of the secrets which, by virtue of mine office and godly
vocation, men do entrust to my safe keeping, I may not use, even to
the hurt of our enemies and the welfare of the Church, yet buffeted by
Satan in the wilderness. Nevertheless, I was sore troubled that thou,
even thou, shouldest harbour and abet these wicked men, who have
broken the covenant and plucked up the seed of the kingdom. Truly, I
wot not where the afflicted Church shall find succour when her foes be
they of her own household."
"I knew not that they were enemies when first they sought our
habitation. They had eaten and drunken at our board, and the"----
"These sons of Belial found favour in thy sight, even the chief
captain of the king's host. I would not accuse or blame thee rashly;
but verily thou hast not judged wisely in this matter, for now must
they depart, inasmuch as I cannot use, even to the advantage of our
just cause, the knowledge I have gained; nor wilt thou render them up,
I trow; but mark me, the avenger of blood is behind them, and though
the city of refuge be nigh, they shall not escape!----Yet there be
other marvels this wicked one did set forth," said the minister, with
a searching eye directed to the maiden. "One of these uncircumcised
Philistines did woo thee for his bride. What answer gavest thou?"
"Such answer as becometh one who seeketh not fellowship with the works
of darkness."
"'Tis well. Now lead me to this Joab the son of Zeruiah, this captain
of the king's host; for I have a message unto him also."
Following the astonished and trembling maiden, the divine, fraught
with some weighty commission, was admitted into the temporary
concealment of the fugitives. It was a narrow and inconvenient loft
above one of the outbuildings--the roof so low that it was only in
some places the upright figure of the minister might be sustained. The
light penetrated through an aperture in the roof, showing the guests
within seated, and enjoying a frugal, but sufficient repast.
"I am one of few words," said the divine, "and so much the rather as
that I now stand in the presence of mine enemies. What sayest thou,
Prince Rupert, the persecutor of God's heritage, who didst not stay
thine hand from the slaughter even of them that were taken captive?
What sayest thou that the word should not go forth to kill and slay,
even as thou didst smite and not spare, but didst destroy utterly them
who, when beleaguered by thine armies in Bolton, were delivered into
thine hand?"
"Ha!" said the Prince; "thou--a cockatrice to betray me!"
"She hath not betrayed thee. Yonder poor and afflicted sinner, when in
bondage unto Satan, led captive by him at his will, did reveal it by
the spirit of prophecy that was in him. But we take not advantage of
this to thine hurt; we may not use the devil's works for the building
up and welfare of the Church, even though she were mightily holpen
thereby. But listen: thou hast wooed this maiden to be the wife of thy
bosom. In the dark roll of destiny it is written--so spake the unclean
spirit--that if thou shouldest wed, a son springing from thy loins
shall sit upon the throne of this unhappy realm. He shall govern the
people righteously, every one under his own vine and his own fig-tree,
none daring to make them afraid. Surely it would not be a vain and an
evil thing should the maiden be----Yet--this is my temptation. Get
thee behind me, Satan. May the thought and the folly of my heart be
forgiven me! No! proud and cruel persecutor, this maiden is a pearl of
rare price which thou shalt not win--a chosen one who hath had grace
given unto her above measure, even above that vouchsafed unto me. I do
loathe and abhor myself for the iniquity of my heart, and the
unsubdued carnality of my spirit."
"Your Highness had need of great meekness and patience to endure this
grievous outpouring," said Chisenhall to the silent and bewildered
Prince. "Shall I thrust him through, and make sure of his fidelity?"
"Hurt him not," said his Highness to this effectual admonisher unto
secrecy. "And what if I should not wed?" continued he, addressing the
divine, and at the same time looking tenderly on the damsel.
"To this point too was the prophecy accordant. The sceptre shall
nevertheless be given to one of thy race; thy sister's son shall carry
down the line of kings to this people; and the Lord's work shall still
prosper. Now, daughter of many prayers--for I have yearned over thee
with more than a father's love--choose thee without constraint this
day. Thou hearest the words of this prophecy: wilt thou be the mother
of kings, or the lowly and despised follower of God's heritage?"
"I will not grasp the bubble of ambition. It bursts--a hollow vapour
when possessed. Let me choose rather to suffer affliction with the
people of God than obtain all the treasures of Egypt. But tempt me not
again, for my soul cleaveth to the dust--flesh and blood shrink from
the trial!"
She sobbed aloud, and threw herself on the old man's neck, who
scarcely refrained from joining in her tears.
"Thou hast come forth as gold from the furnace--thou hast kept the
faith, and holden fast thy profession," said the divine, with a glance
of triumph. Marian held out her hand to the Prince, who grasped it
with fervour. She seemed more like to some holy and heavenward thing
than a denizen of this polluted earth--more like a type of the
confessors and martyrs of the primitive church than a disciple of our
own, nurtured in the lap of carnal security, with little show of
either zeal or devotion.
"Your Highness must depart--but whither?" said she, with an anxious
and inquiring glance directed to the minister.
"Take no thought for their safety; thy constancy hath earned their
deliverance. My safe-conduct will carry them unharmed beyond the reach
of their enemies; but let them not return. It is at their own peril if
they be found again harboured in this vicinage, and their blood be on
their own heads!"