providing he entertained serious thoughts of surrendering at
discretion; but the effect which this premature disclosure might have
on his mistress's determination towards him retarded the discovery;
and he was not without hope of eluding the drunken valour of the
brutes.
"Now gie't me, Dan--Tol de rol--
'An' back and sides go bare, go bare.'"
Approaching to the attack, Barnaby brandished his cudgel to the time
and tune of this celebrated alehouse ditty. The concluding flourish
brought the weapon waving within a very concise distance of the goodly
person of Master Anthony Hardcastle.
"Murder!--Villains!" cried the terrified lover, unable to endure the
menacing aspect of this fearful invader; "I'm Master Anthony, ye sots,
ye unthrifts--your master, is to be; and I--I'll have ye i' the stocks
for this."
"Bodikins and blunderkins? hear'st him, Dan? Why, thou lying
lackpenny, I'll soon whack the corruption out o' thee. Master Anthony,
indeed! he be another guess sort of thing to thee, I trow. Thee be'st
hankering after the good things hereabout; but I'll spoil thy
liquorish tooth for tasting. Come, unkennel, vermin!"
"I am Master Anthony, friend, as safe as my mother bore me. If thou
lackest knowledge, go ask Hodge with the horses at the back gate."
"Then what be'st thou for i' the pear-tree? Na, na; Master Anthony is
gone home a great whiles back. He's to marry young mistress i' the
morn, an' we're getting drunk by participation. There's for thee! I
talks like ou'd Daniel the schoolmaster."
Sorely discomposed with the infliction of this vile contumely, Anthony
was forced to descend. Nothing, however, would convince the clowns of
their mistake. He showed them his glossy raiment; but their intellects
were too confused for so nice a discrimination; they consequently
resolved to hold him in durance until the morrow, when their master
would bring him to account for this invasion of his territory. But who
shall depict the horror and consternation of the unhappy lover, on
finding them seriously bent on his incarceration in a filthy den, used
heretofore as a receptacle for scraps and lumber, near the stables.
Remonstrance, entreaty, threats, solicitations, were equally
unavailing. He demanded an audience with the justice.
"Thee'll get it soon enough, I warrant thee. And thee may think well
o' the stocks; but th' pillory is no more than I'll be bound for. The
last we catched, Jem Sludge, we belaboured in such fashion as I verily
think he waur more like a midden' nor a man when he got his neck out
o' th' collar. Come along--it's not to th' gallows, this bout, my
pretty bird. Lend him a whack behind, Dan, if he do not mend his
pace."
A rude blow was here administered to the unfortunate captive. He cried
out lustily for help; but the inquirers from the hall made merry at
his captivity, rejoicing that the thief was now safely in the trap.
On the following morning, the eventful day of his daughter's bridal,
the justice rose earlier than he was wont. His features wore a tinge
of anxiety as he paced the room with sharp and irregular footsteps.
Suddenly he was disturbed by approaching voices, and a sort of
suppressed bustle along the passage. On opening the door he saw Daniel
and his doughty companion, Barnaby, whose red eyes and hollow cheeks
betokened their too familiar indulgence in past festivities.
"We've catched him at last, master."
"Who? What dost stand agape for?"
"Why, a rogue 'at was robbing the gardens."
"A murrain light on both of ye! I cannot be chaffed with such like
matters now."
"But your worship," cautiously spake Dan, "he be the most comical
thing you ever clapped eyes on. He says he be Master Anthony, your
worship's new son that is to be to-day."
"How sayest thou? I think thy wits are the worse for bibbing o'
yesternight."
"Nay, your worship's grace, but we'll e'en fetch him. He's pranked out
gaily; and a gay bird he be for your honour's cage."
Two or three domestics now entered, leading in their prisoner. His
woe-begone looks were angrily bent on his conductors. He shook off
their grasp, approaching the owner of the mansion where he had been so
evil-entreated. His hair, released from its bonds, dangled in
primaeval disorder above his shoulders. His goodly raiment, no longer
hidden, was rumpled and soiled, like the finery of a stage wardrobe.
Indeed, the Squire guessed he was one of the village players that had
been foraging for his supper after a scanty benefit.
"How now, braggart? What evil occupation brings thee about my house?
What unlucky hankering, sirrah, brings thee, I say, a-robbing of my
grounds and poultry-yards? Methinks thou hast but a sorry employment
for thy gingerbread coat."
"I came, sir, to wed your daughter," replied Anthony, simpering, and
with great modesty.
"My daughter!" cried Anderton, in a voice of thunder; "and pray may I
inquire to whom I am beholden for this favour?"
"To Master Anthony Hardcastle," said the lover, drawing himself up
proudly, and casting a glance of triumph and defiance at his
tormentors.
"Whew!" cried the other; "why, Master Anthony is no more like thee,
thou tod-pate, than thou to St George or the dragon of Wantley. A rare
device, truly--a cunning plot--a stage-trick to set the mob agape!
Why, thou puny-legged Tamburlane!--thou ghost of an Alexander!--how
darest thou confront me thus? Now, i' lady, but I've a month's mind to
belabour the truth out o' thee with a weapon something tough and
crabbed i' the tasting."
Anthony's face lengthened inordinately at this unexpected rebuke, and
a latent whimper quivered about the corners of his pale and pursy
mouth. Sobs and protestations were useless; there seemed a base
conspiracy to rob him even of his name and identity. He vowed, that
the period of his proscription being past, Kate was hourly expecting
him, and his appearance overnight was but to execute a little
stratagem for her surprise. This explanation but served to aggravate;
and in vain did he solicit an interview with the lady, promising to
abide by her decision.
"Why, look thee," said the justice; "Anthony Hardcastle, whom thy
lying tongue and figure most woefully defame, hath been our guest
oftentimes during the past month, and truly his gallant bearing and
disposition have well won my consent. No marvel at my daughter's love!
But thou!--had she stooped from her high bearing to such carrion, I'd
have wrung your necks round with less compunction than those of two
base-bred kestrils."
Anthony was dumb with astonishment. The whole transaction had the
aspect of some indistinct and troubled dream, or rather some delusion
of the arch-enemy to entangle and perplex him. At this moment tripped
in the pert maiden, whose share in the machinations we before
intimated. She looked on the bewildered lover with a sly and equivocal
glance. Craving permission to speak, she said--
"'Tis even so, your worship; this interloper is none other than the
very person he represents; and here come those who will give the
riddle its proper answer."
Immediately came in the blushing Kate, led in by a tall and comely
gentleman, whom her father recognised as the real Anthony.
"We come but to crave your blessing," said this personage, bending
gracefully on his knee, whilst Kate seized the hand of her parent.
"Forgive this deceit:" she looked imploringly at the old man, who
seemed too astonished to reply: "it was but to win my father's
knowledge and esteem for the man to whom my vows are for ever
plighted."
"Nay, start not," said the bridegroom; "I but borrowed this ill-used
gentleman's name, as I knew none other mode of access to your presence
than the disguise that his _suit_ afforded; and from him I now crave
forgiveness."
"And I knew," said Kate, glancing round towards the real Anthony,
"that the man of my choice would be yours, could I but contrive you
should hold a fair judgment between them, as you now do this day."
A reconciliation was the result; but ere a "little month was old" were
seen at the same altar, and with the same object, Master Anthony
Hardcastle and Mistress Bridget Allport.
[17] _Vide_ Baines's _Lancashire_, vol. i. p. 78.
[18] _Vide_ Baines's _Lancashire_, vol. ii. p. 504.
[Illustration THE SKULL HOUSE]
THE SKULL HOUSE.
"That skull had a tongue in't that could sing once."
--_Hamlet._
Wardley Hall, in the manor of Worsley, is an ancient building
about seven miles west from Manchester. It was an old seat of
the Downes family, and afterwards of Lord Barrymore. A human
skull was formerly shown here, beside the staircase, which the
occupiers would not permit to be removed. This grim fixture, it
was said, being much averse to any change of place or position,
never failed to punish the individual severely who should dare
to lay hands on it. If removed or buried, it was sure to
return, so that in the end each succeeding tenant was fain to
endure its presence, rather than be subject to the terrors and
annoyances consequent upon its removal. Its place was a square
aperture in the wall; nor would it suffer this opening to be
glazed, or otherwise filled up, without creating some
disturbance. It seemed as if those rayless sockets loved to
look abroad, peradventure on the scenes of its former
enjoyments and reminiscences. It was almost bleached white by
exposure to the weather, and many curious persons have made a
pilgrimage there even in late years. Several young men from
Manchester once going on this errand, one of them, unobserved
of his fellows, thought he would ascertain the truth of the
stories he had heard. For this purpose he privately removed the
skull to another situation, and left it to find its way back
again. The night but one following, such a storm arose about
the house, that many trees were blown down, the roofs were
unthatched, and the tenants, finding out the cause, as they
supposed, replaced the skull, when these terrific disturbances
ceased.
The occurrences detailed more fully in the following pages are
usually assigned as the origin of this strange superstition.
"I wonder what that hair-brained brother of mine can be doing. No
fresh brawl, I hope," said Maria Downes to her cousin Eleanor, as they
sat, mopish and disquieted enough, in a gloomy chamber of the old hall
at Worsley.
"I hope not, too," replied Eleanor; and there was another long and
oppressive silence.
It was in the dusk of a chill, damp November evening. The fire shot
forth a sharp uncertain glimmer, and the dim walls threw back the
illumination.
"I know not why," said Maria, "but my spirits are very sad, and
everything I see looks mistrustful and foreboding!"
So thought her cousin; but she did not speak. Her heart was too full,
and a tear started in her eye.
"Would that Harry had eschewed the frivolities and dissipations of
yonder ungodly city; that he had stayed with us here, in safe and
happy seclusion. I have hardly known pleasure since he went."
Eleanor's bosom again responded to the note of agony that was wrung
from her cousin, and she turned her head to hide what she had too
plainly betrayed.
"Since that unhappy fray in which peradventure an innocent and
unoffending victim was the result of Harry's intemperance, the bloody
offence hath been upon my soul--heavier, I do fear, than upon his own.
But unless he repent, and turn aside from his sinful courses, there
will, there must, come a fearful recompense!"
"Do not sentence him unheard," said Eleanor; but her words were
quivering and indistinct. "It was in his own defence, maybe, however
bitterly the tidings were dropped into your ear. Sure I am," said she,
more firmly, "that Harry was too kind, too gentle, to slay the
innocent, and in cold blood!"
"Nay, Eleanor, excuse him not. It may be that the foul deed was done
through excess of wine, the fiery heat of debauch, and amid the
beastly orgies of intemperance; but is he the less criminal? I tell
thee nay; for he hath added crime to crime, and drawn down, perchance,
a double punishment. He is my brother, and thou knowest, if possible,
I would palliate his offence; but hath it not been told, and the very
air of yon polluted city was rife and reeking with the deed, that
Harry Downes, the best-beloved of his father, and the child of many
hopes, did wantonly, and unprovoked, rush forth hot and intemperate
from the stews. Drawing his sword, did he not swear--ay, by that
Heaven he insulted and defied, that he would kill the first man he
met, and--oh, horror!--was not that fearful oath fulfilled?"
Eleanor had covered her face with her hands--a convulsive sob shook
her frame; but though her heart was on the rack, she uttered no
complaint. Maria, inflexible, and, as some might think, rigid, in
those principles of virtue wherein she had been educated, yet sorrowed
deeply for her cousin, who from a child had been her brother Harry's
playmate, and the proofs of mutual affection had been too powerful,
too early, and too long continued, to be ever effaced. Timid as the
frighted fawn, and tender as the wild flower that scarce bent beneath
her step, she lay, a bruised reed; the stem that supported her was
broken. Her fondest, her only hopes were withered, and the desolating
blast of disappointment had passed upon her earliest affections. Her
little bark, freighted with all a woman's care and tenderness, lay
shivered with the stroke, disabled and a wreck!
Just as the short and murky twilight was expiring, and other lights
were substituted, there came a loud summons at the outer gate, where a
strong barrier was built across the moat. The females started, as
though rendered more than usually apprehensive that evil tidings were
at hand. But they were, in some measure, relieved on hearing that it
was only Jem Hazleden, the carrier from Manchester, who had brought a
wooden box on one of his pack-horses, which said box had come all the
way from London by "Antony's" waggon. Maria thought it might be some
package or present from her brother, who had been a year or two in
town, taking terms; but a considerable period had now passed since
tidings were sent from him. She looked wistfully at the box, a clumsy,
ill-favoured thing, without the least symptom of any pleasant
communication from such a source; so different from the trim packages
that were wont to arrive, containing, maybe, the newest London chintz,
or a piece of real brocade, or Flanders lace of the rarest
workmanship.
"No good lurks in that ugly envelope," thought she; and, stooping
down, she examined the direction minutely. It was a quaint crabbed
hand--not her brother's, that was certain; and the discovery made her
more anxious and uneasy. She turned it over and over, but no clue
could be found, no index to the contents. It would have been easy,
methinks, to have satisfied herself on this head, but she really felt
almost afraid to open it, and yet----At any rate, she would put it off
till the morrow. She was so nervous and out of spirits that she
positively had not courage to open a dirty wooden box, tied round with
a bit of hempen cord, and fastened with a few rusty nails. She ordered
it to be removed to her bed-chamber, and morning, perchance, would
dissipate these idle but unpleasant feelings. She went to bed, but
could not sleep; the wind and rain beat so heavily against the
casement, and the recent excitement kept her restless and awake. She
tried various expedients to soothe and subdue her agitation, but
without effect. The rain had ceased to patter on the windows, but the
wind blew more fiercely and in more violent gusts than before. The sky
was clearing, and a huge Apennine of clouds was now visible as she
lay, on which the moonbeams were basking gloriously. Suddenly a ray
glided like a spirit into the chamber, and disappeared. Her eyes were
at that moment directed towards the mysterious box which lay opposite,
and her very hair moved with horror and consternation; for in that
brief interval of light she thought she saw the lid open, and a grisly
head glare out hideously from beneath. Every hair seemed to grow
sensitive, and every pore to be exquisitely endued with feeling. Her
heart throbbed violently, and her brain grew dizzy. Another moonbeam
irradiated the chamber. She was still gazing on the box; but whether
the foregoing impression was merely hallucinatory, an illusion of the
feverish and excited sense, she knew not, for the box was there,
undisturbed, grim, silent, and mysterious as before. Yet she could not
withdraw her eyes from it. There is a fascination in terror. She could
hardly resist a horrible desire, or rather impulse, to leap forth, and
hasten towards it. Her brow felt cold and clammy; her eyes grew dim,
and as though motes of fire were rushing by; but ere she could summon
help she fell back senseless on her pillow.
Morning was far advanced ere she felt any returning recollection. At
first a confused and dream-like sensation came upon her. Looking
wildly round, her eyes rested on the box, and the whole interval came
suddenly to her memory. She shuddered at the retrospect; but she was
determined, whether it had been fancy or not, to keep the secret
within her own breast, though more undetermined than ever to break
open the fearful cause of her disturbance. Yet she durst not seek
repose another night with such a companion. Her apprehensions were not
easily allayed, however disposed she might be to treat them as trivial
and unfounded.
"Will you not open yonder package that came last night?" inquired
Eleanor, as they were sitting down to breakfast. Maria shuddered, as
though something loathsome had crossed her. She shook off the reptile
thought, which had all the character of some crawling and offensive
thing as it passed her bosom.
"I have not--that is, I--I have not yet ordered it to be undone."
"And why?" said Eleanor, now raising her soft blue eyes with an
expression of wonder and curiosity on her cousin. "It did not use to
be thus when there came one of these couriers from town."
"'Tis not from Harry Downes; and--I care not just now to have the
trouble on't, being jaded and out of spirits."
"I will relieve you of the trouble presently, if you will permit me,"
said Eleanor, who was not without a secret hope, notwithstanding
Maria's assertion, that it was a message of gladness from Harry, with
the customary present for his sister, and perhaps a token of kindness
for herself.
"Stay!" said Maria, laying her hand on Eleanor as she rose, whilst
with a solemn and startling tone she cried, "Not yet!" She sat down;
Eleanor, pale and trembling, sat down too; but her cousin was silent,
evidently unwilling to resume the topic.
"To-morrow," said she, when urged; but all further converse on the
subject was suspended.
Maria, as the day closed and the evening drew on apace, gave orders
that the box should be removed into a vacant outbuilding until
morning, when, she said, it might be opened in her presence, as it
probably contained some articles that she expected, but of which she
was not just then in need.
"It's an ugly cumbersome thing," said Dick, as he lugged the wearisome
box to its destination. "I wonder what for mistress dunna break it
open. Heigho!"
Here he put down his burden, giving it a lusty kick for sheer
wantonness and malice.
"What is't sent here for, think'st 'ou?" said Betty the housemaid, who
had followed Dick for a bit of gossip and a sort of incipient liking
which had not yet issued on his part into any overt acts of courtship
and declaration. It was nigh dark, "the light that lovers choose;" and
Betty, having disposed herself to the best advantage, awaited the
reply of Dick with becoming modesty.
"How do I know the nature o' women's fancies? It would be far easier
to know why there's a change o' wind or weather than the meaning o'
their tricks and humours."
"I know not what thee has to complain on," said Betty. "They behaven
better to thee nor thou deserves."
"Hoity, toity, mistress; dunna be cross, wench. Come, gie's a buss an'
so"----
"Keep thy jobbernowl to thysel'," said the indignant Betty, when she
had made sure of this favour. "Thy great leather paws are liker for
Becky Pinnington's red neck nor mine," continued she, bridling up, and
giving vent to some long-suppressed jealousy.
"Lorjus days; but thou's mighty quarrelsome and peevish; I ne'er
touch'd Becky's neck, nor nought belongin' to her."
"Hush," said Betty, withdrawing herself from the approaches of her
admirer. "Some'at knocks!"
Dick hastened to the door, supposing that somebody was dodging them.
"'Tis somethin' i' that box!" said Betty; and they listened in the
last extremity of terror. Again there was a low dull knock, which
evidently came from the box, and the wooers were certain that the old
one was inside. In great alarm they rushed forth, and at the
kitchen-chimney corner Dick and his companion were seen with blanched
lips and staring eyes, almost speechless with affright.
Next morning the story was bruited forth, with amendments and
additions, according to the fancy of the speaker, so that, in the end,
the first promulgers could hardly recognise their own. The
grim-looking despatch was now the object of such terror that scarcely
one of them durst go into the place where it stood. It was not long
ere Maria Downes became acquainted with the circumstance, and she
thought it was high time these imaginary terrors should be put an end
to. She felt ashamed that she had given way to her own apprehensions
on the subject, which doubtless were, in part, the occasion of the
reports she heard, by the seeming mystery that was observed in her
manner and conduct. She determined that the box should be opened
forthwith. It was daylight, be it remembered, when this resolution was
made, and consequently she felt sufficiently courageous to make the
attempt.
But there was not one amongst the domestics who durst accompany her on
this bold errand--an attack, they conceived, on the very den of some
evil spirit, who would inevitably rush forth and destroy them.
Alone, therefore, and armed with the necessary implements, was she
obliged to go forth to the adventure.
The terrified menials saw her depart; and some felt certain she would
never come back alive; others did not feel satisfied as to their own
safety, should their mistress be the victim. All was terror and
distress; pale and anxious faces huddled together, and every eye
prying into his neighbour's for some ground of hope or confidence.
Some thought they heard the strokes--dull, heavy blows--breaking
through the awful stillness which they almost felt. These intimations
ceased: and a full half-hour had intervened; an age of suspended
horror, when--just as their apprehensions were on the point of leading
them on to some desperate measures for relieving the suspense which
was almost beyond endurance--to their great joy, their mistress
returned; who, though appearing much agitated, spoke to them rather
hastily, and with an attempt to smile at their alarm.
"Yonder box," said she, passing by, "is like to shame your silly
fears. Some wag hath sent ye a truss of straw--for a scrubbing wisp,
maybe." But there was, in the hurried and unusual hilarity of her
speech, something so forced and out of character, that it did not
escape even the notice of her domestics. Some, however, went
immediately to the place, and after much hesitation lifted up the lid,
when lo! a bundle of straw was the reward of their curiosity. By
degrees they began to rummage farther into the contents; but the whole
interior was filled with this rare and curious commodity. They could
hardly believe their eyes; and Dick, especially, shook his head, and
looked as though he knew or suspected more than he durst tell; a
common expedient with those whose mountain hath brought forth
something very like the product of this gigantic mystery.
Dick was the most dissatisfied with the result, feeling himself much
chagrined at so unlooked-for a termination to his wonderful story, and
he kept poking into and turning about the straw with great sullenness
and pertinacity. His labours were not altogether without success.