the rest of our brethren o' the Red Cross need share, thee knows. But
thou be'st but newly dubbed an' hardly initiated yet in our sublime
mysteries. Nevertheless, I will be indifferent honest too, and for thy
great services to us and to our cause I do promise thee a largess when
it comes to our fingers--that is to say, one-fifth to thee, and
one-fifth to me; the other three shares do go to the general
treasure-house of the community, of which I take half."
"A goodly portion, marry--but I'd liefer 't not gang ony farther."
"Villain! thou art bent on treachery; if thou draw back I'll ha' thee
hanged or otherwise punished for what thou hast done. Remember, knave,
thou art in my power."
The guilty victim groaned piteously, but he was irretrievably
entangled. The toils had been spread by a master-hand. He saw the gulf
to which he was hurried, but could not extricate himself.
"Yonder women, plague take 'em," said Tim; "what's up now? I know this
owd witch who's sold hersel' to--to--Blackface I'm afeard, is th'
owner o' many a good rood o' land hereabout, an' t'owd Ha' too, wi'
its 'purtenances. But she's brought fro' Spain or Italy, as I be
tou'd, a main lot o' these same priest gear; an' they're lurkin'
hereabout like, loike rabbits in a warren, till she can get rid o'
these Ashtons. Mony a year long past I've seen her prowling about, but
she never could get her ends greadly till now."
"By my help she shall," said Kelly; "it's a bargain between us. She's
brought her grandchildren too, who left England in their youth, being
educated in a convent o'er seas. They're just ready to drop into
possession."
"But poor Grace Ashton; she's gi'en me mony a dish of hot porritch an'
bannocks. She shauna be hurt if I can help it."
"Fool!--the wench must be provided for. Look thee--if she get away,
she'll spoil all. When dead, young Buckley must be charged with the
murder."
"Weel, weel; but I'll ha' nought more to do wi 't. E'en tak' your own
fling--I'll wash my hands on't altogether, an' so"----
"I want help, thou chicken-faced varlet--come, budge--to thy work; we
may have helpers to the booty, if time be lost."
"Mercy on us!" said Tim, in great dolour, "I wish I had ne'er had
aught to do wi' treasure-hunting an' sich-like occupation. If ever I
get rid of this job, if I don't stick to my old trade, hang me up to
dry."
"Hold thy peace, carrion! and remember, should a whisper even escape
thee, I will have thee hanged in good earnest."
"Ay, ay; just like Satan 'ticing to iniquity, an' then, biggest rogue
al'ays turns retriever."
"None o' thy pretences: thou hast as liquorish a longing after the
gold as any miser in the parish, and when the broad pieces and the
silver nobles jingle in thy fob, thoul't forget thy qualms, and thank
me into the bargain. Now to work. Let me see, what did the sleeping
beauty say? Humph--'Under the main pillar at the south-east corner.'
Good. Nay, man, don't light up yet. Let us get fairly underground
first, for fear of accidents."
To the great alarm of Dr Dee, who heard every word, these two worthies
came straight towards the opening. He drew on one side at a venture.
Luckily it proved the right one; they proceeded up the passage in the
opposite direction. He heard them groping at the further end. A
trap-door was evidently raised, and he was pretty well convinced they
had found the way to the vaults; probably it had been blocked up for
ages until recently, and in all likelihood Tim had pointed it out, as
well as the notion that treasure was concealed somewhere in these
labyrinths.
How to make this discovery in some way subservient to his mission was
the next consideration; and with a firm conviction, generally the
forerunner of success, he determined to employ some bold stratagem for
their detection. They were now fairly in the trap, and he hoped to
make sure of the vermin. For this end he cautiously felt his way to
the opposite extremity of the passage, where he found the floor
emitted a hollow sound. This was assuredly the entrance; but he tried
in vain--it resisted every effort. Here, however, he determined to
keep watch and seize them if possible on their egress, trusting to his
good fortune or his courage for help in any emergency that might
ensue. At times he laid his ear to the ground, but nothing was
audible as to their operations below. This convinced him they were at
a considerable distance from the entry, but he felt assured that ere
long they must emerge from their den, when, taken by surprise, he
should have little difficulty in securing the first that came forth,
keeping fast the door until he had made sure of his captive.
He watched patiently for some time, when all on a sudden he heard a
rumbling subterraneous noise, and he plainly felt the ground tremble
under his feet. A loud shriek was heard below, and presently footsteps
approaching the entrance. He had scarcely time to draw aside ere the
door was burst open, and some one rushed forth. The Doctor seized him
by the throat, and ere he had recovered from his consternation,
dragged him out of the passage.
"Villain! what is it ye are plotting here about? Confess, or I'll have
thee dealt with after thy deserts."
"Oh!--I'll--tell--all--I will"--sobbed out the delinquent, gasping
with terror. Tim, for it was none other, fell on his knees crying for
mercy. "Whoever thou art," continued he, "come and help--help for one
that's fa'n under a heavy calamity. Bad though he be, we maunna let
him perish for lack o' lookin' after."
"Hast got a light, knave?"
"I'll run an' fetch one."
"Nay, nay; we part not company until better acquainted. Is there not a
candle below?"
"Alas! 'tis put out--and--oh! I'd forgotten; here's t' match-box i' my
pocket."
He drew forth the requisite materials, and they were soon equipped,
exploring the concealed chambers we have before described. With
difficulty they now found their way, by reason of the dust arising
from the recent catastrophe. Dee followed cautiously on, keeping a
wary eye on his leader lest some deceit or stratagem should be
intended.
They now approached a heap of ruins almost choking the entrance to the
larger vault. He thought groans issued from beneath.
"He's not dead yet," said Tim. "Here, here, good sir; help me to shift
this stone first."
They set to work in good earnest, and, with no little difficulty and
delay, at length succeeded in releasing the unfortunate
treasure-hunter. Eager to possess the supposed riches, they had
incautiously undermined one of the main supports of the roof, and
Kelly was buried under the ruins. Fortunately he lay in the hollow he
had made, otherwise nothing but a miracle could have saved him from
immediate death. He was terribly bruised, nevertheless, and presented
a pitiable spectacle. Bleeding and sore wounded, he was hardly
sensible as they bore him out into the fresh air. Apparently unable to
move, they laid him on the ground until help could be obtained. In a
while he recovered.
"Thou art verily incorrigible," said the Doctor to his former
associate. "Where is the maiden ye have so cruelly conveyed away?"
But Kelly was dogged, and would not answer.
"I have heard and know all," continued Dee; "so that, unless thou wilt
confess, assuredly I will have thee lodged in the next jail on
accusation of the murder. Thy diabolical practices will sooner or
later bring thee to punishment."
"Promise not to molest me," said Kelly, who feared nothing but the
strong arm of the law, so utterly was he given over to a reprobate
mind, even to commit iniquity with greediness.
"What! and let thee forth to compass other and maybe more heinous
mischief! I promise nothing, save that thou be prevented from such
pursuits. Thou hast entered into covenant with the woman whom it is
our purpose in due time to deliver up to the secular arm. You think to
compass your mutual ends by this compact; but be assured your schemes
shall be frustrated, and that speedily."
At this Kelly again fell into a sulky mood, maimed and helpless though
he was; and revenge, dark and deadly, distorted his visage.
Tim here stepped forward.
"I do repent me of this iniquity, an' if ever I'm catched meddling wi'
sich tickle gear again, I'll gie ye leave to hang me up without judge
or jury."
"The best proof of repentance is restitution," said the Doctor.
"Knowest thou aught of the maiden?"
"I'll find her, if ye can keep that noisome wizard frae hurting me. He
swears that if I tell, e'en by nods, winks, or otherwise, he'll send
me to ---- in a whirlwind."
"I will give thee my pledge, not a hair of thy head shall be damaged."
"He has the key in his pocket."
"What of that?"
"It's the key to the old house door yonder, an' she's either there or
but lately fetched away."
The Doctor proceeded, though not without opposition, to the search.
The key was soon produced, and accompanied by the repentant
ballad-monger, he approached the mansion, which, as we have before
noticed, was near at hand, apparently untenanted.
"Yonder knave, I think, cannot escape," said Dee.
"No, no," said his conductor, "unless some'at fetches him; he's too
well hampered for that. His legs are aw smashed wi' that downfa'."
They entered a little court almost choked up with leaves and long
grass. The door was unlocked, and a desolate scene presented itself.
The hall was covered with damp and mildew--all was rotting in ruin and
decay. Tim led the way up-stairs. The same appearances were still
manifest. The dark shadow of death seemed to brood there--an
interminable silence. They entered a small closet, nearly dark; and
here, on a miserable pallet, lay the form of Grace Ashton, now, alas!
pale and haggard. She seemed altogether unconscious of their presence.
The horrible events of the preceding night had brought on mental as
well as bodily disease. It was the practice of these treasure-seekers
either to raise up a dead body for the desired information, or to
throw the living into such a state of mental hallucination that they
should answer dark and difficult questions whilst in that condition.
It not unfrequently happened, however, that the unfortunate victims to
these horrid rites either lost their lives or their reason during the
experiment.
We will not pursue the recital in the present case: suffice it to say,
that Grace Ashton was immediately removed and placed under the care of
her friends; the Doctor went back to Kelly for further disclosures,
but what was his surprise to find that by some means or another he had
escaped. He now lost no time in returning to Buckley, communicating
the painful, though in some degree welcome, intelligence that Grace
Ashton had been rescued from her persecutors.
It was now time to adopt measures for their reception of the witch,
who would doubtless not fail in her appointment.
Dee was yet in doubt as to the issue, and he thought it needful to
acquaint them with the only method by which the spell could be broken.
How it were possible that the ring should ever bind her was a mystery
that at present he could not solve. Dame Eleanor listened very
attentively, then sharply replied--
"I have heard o' this charm aforetime, or----By'r lady, but I have
it!"
She almost capered for joy.
We will not, however, anticipate the result, but entreat our readers
to suspend their guesses, and again accompany us to the chamber where
lay the heir of Buckley, still grievously tormented.
Midnight again approached. Dee was sitting at the table, apparently in
deep study. He had examined the closet, and found it communicated by
another passage to an outer door; and it was through this that the Red
Woman had contrived to enter without being observed. The learned
Doctor was evidently awaiting her approach with no little anxiety.
Once or twice he fancied some one tapped at the casement, but it was
only the wind rushing by in stormy gusts, increasing in strength and
frequency as the time drew nigh.
Hark! was not that a distant shriek? It might be the creaking of the
boughs and the old yew-tree by the door, thought Dee; and again, in a
while, he relapsed into a profound reverie. Another! He heard the
jarring of rusty hinges; a heavy step; and--the Red Woman stood beside
him; but with such a malevolent aspect that he was somewhat startled
and uneasy at her presence.
"I am beguiled of my prey!--mocked--thwarted. But beware, old man; thy
meddling may prove dangerous. I will possess the inheritance, though
every earthly power withstood me! That boy is mine. He hath sworn
it--sealed it with his heart's blood--and I demand the pledge." The
victim groaned. "Hearest thou that response? 'Tis an assent. He is
mine in spite of your stratagems."
This was probably but the raving of a disordered intellect, but Dee
was too deeply imbued with the superstitions of the age to suppose for
a moment that it was not a case of undisguised witchcraft, or that
this wicked hag was not invested with sufficient power to execute
whatever either anger or caprice might suggest.
"What is thy will with the wretched victim thou hast ensnared?" he
inquired.
"I have told thee."
"Thou wilt not convey him away bodily to his tormentors?"
"Unless they have a victim the inheritance may not be mine." She said
this with such a fiendish malice that made even the exorcist tremble.
His presence of mind, however, did not forsake him.
"The ring--I remember--there was a condition in the bond. In all such
compacts there is ever a loophole for escape."
"None that thou canst creep through," she said, with a look of scorn.
"It is not permitted that the children of men be tempted above
measure."
"When that ring shall have strength to bind me, and not till then. All
other bonds I rend asunder. Even adamant were as flaming tow."
"Here is a ring of stout iron," said Dee, pointing to an iron ring
fixed by a stout staple in the wall. "I think it would try thy boasted
strength."
"I could break it as the feeble reed."
The Doctor shook his head incredulously.
"Try me. Thou shall find it no empty boast."
She seemed proud that her words should be put to the test; and even
proposed that her arms should be pinioned, and her body fastened with
stout cords to the iron ring which had been prepared for this purpose.
"Thou shalt soon find which is the strongest," said she, exultingly.
"I have broken bonds ere now to which these are but as a thread."
She looked confident of success, and surveyed the whole proceeding
with a look of unutterable scorn.
"Now do thy worst, thou wicked one," said Dee, when he had finished.
But lo! a shriek that might have wakened the dead. She was unable to
extricate herself, being held in spite of the most desperate efforts
to escape. With a loud yell she cried out--
"Thou hast played me false, demon!"
"'Tis not thy demon," said Dee; "it is I that have circumvented thee.
In that iron ring is concealed the charmed one, wrought out by a
cunning smith to this intent--to wit, the deliverance of a persecuted
house."
The Red Woman now appeared shorn of her strength. Her charms and her
delusions were dispelled. She sank into the condition of a hopeless,
wretched maniac, and was for some time closely confined to this
chamber.
Buckley, recovering soon after, was united to Grace Ashton, who, it is
confidently asserted, and perhaps believed, was restored to immediate
health when the charm was broken.
[20] Within the last few years, since this story
was written, the old house itself has been levelled with the
ground.
[21] In the 39th of Eliz. Sir John Biron held the
manor of Rochdale, subsequently held by the Ramsays; but in the
13th of Charles I. it was reconveyed. The Biron family is more
ancient than the Conquest. Gospatrick held lands of Ernais de
Buron in the county of York, as appears by Domesday Book. Sir
Nicholas Byron distinguished himself in the civil wars of
Charles I.; and in consequence of his zeal in the royal cause
the manor of Rochdale was sequestered. After the Restoration it
reverted to the Byrons. Sir John, during these troubles, was
made a peer, by the title of Baron Byron of Rochdale. In 1823
the late Lord Byron sold the manor, after having been in
possession of the family for nearly three centuries.
THE DEATH-PAINTER;
OR, THE SKELETON'S BRIDE.
"This will hardly keep body and soul together," said Conrad Bergmann,
as he eyed with a dissatisfied countenance some score of dingy
kreutzers thrust into his palm by a "patron of early genius,"--one of
those individuals who take great merit to themselves by just keeping
their victims in that enviable position between life and death,
between absolute starvation and hopeless, abject poverty, which
effectually represses all efforts to excel, controls and quenches all
but longings after immortality--who just fan the flame to let it smoke
and quiver in the socket, but sedulously prevent it rising to any
degree of steadiness and brilliance.
Conrad that morning had taken home a picture, his sole occupation for
two months, and this patron, a dealer in the "fine arts," dwelling in
the good, quiet city of Mannheim, had given him a sum equivalent to
thirty-six shillings sterling for his labour. Peradventure, it was not
in the highest style of art; but what Schwartzen Baren or Weisse
Rosse--Black Bears, White Horses, Spread Eagles, and the like, the
meanest, worst-painted signs in the city--would not have commanded a
higher price?
In fact, Conrad had just genius enough to make himself miserable--to
wit, by aspiring after those honours it was impossible to attain,
keeping him thereby in a constant fret and disappointment, instead of
being content with his station, or striving for objects within his
reach. Could he have drudged on as some dauber of sign-posts, or taken
to useful employment, he might doubtless have earned a comfortable
sustenance. He had, however, like many another child of genius, a soul
above such vulgarities; yearning after the ideal and the vain; having
too much genius for himself and too little for the world; suspended in
a sort of Mahomet's coffin between earth and heaven--contemned,
rejected, by "gods, men, and columns."
Conrad Bergmann was about two-and-twenty, of good figure and
well-proportioned features, complexion fair, bright bluish-grey eyes,
whiskers well matched with a pale, poetical, it might be sickly hue of
countenance, and an expression more inclining to melancholy than
persons of such mean condition have a right to assume. His father had
brought him up to a trade--an honest thriving business--to wit, that
of _knopfmacher_ (button-maker). But Conrad, the youngest, and his
mother's favourite, happened to be indulged with more idle time than
the rest, which, for the most part, was laudably expended in scrawling
sundry hideous representations--all manner of things on walls and
wainscots. Persevering in this occupation he was forthwith pronounced
a genius. About the age of fifteen, Conrad saw a huge "St
Christopher," by a native artist, and straightway his destiny was
fixed. He struggled on for some years with little success save being
pronounced by the gossips "marvellously clever." His performances
wanted that careful and elaborate course of study indispensable even
to the most exalted genius. They were not only glaring, tawdry, and
ill-drawn, but worse conceived; flashy, crude accumulations of colour
only rendering their defects more apparent. He was in a great measure
self-taught. His impetuous, ardent imagination could not endure the
labour requisite to form an artist. He would fain have read ere he had
learned to spell; and the result might easily have been foretold.
His father died, and the family were but scantily provided for. Conrad
was now forced to make, out a livelihood by what was previously an
amusement, not having "a trade in his fingers;" and he toiled on,
selling his productions for the veriest trifle. He had now no leisure
for improvement in the first elements of his art.
"Better starve or beg, better be errand-boy or lackey, than waste my
talents on such an ungrateful world. I'll turn
conjurer--fire-eater--mountebank; set the fools agape at fairs and
pastimes. Anything rather than killing--starving by inches. Why, the
criminals at hard labour in the fortress have less work and better
fare. I wish--I wish"----
"What dost wish, honest youth?" said a tall, heavy-eyed,
beetle-browed, swarthy personage, who poked his face round from
behind, close to that of the unfortunate artist, with great freedom
and familiarity.
"I wish thou hadst better manners, or wast i' the stocks, where every
prying impertinent should be," replied Conrad, being in no very
placable humour with his morning's work. The stranger laughed, not at
all abashed by this ill-mannered, testy rebuke, replying
good-humouredly--
"Ah, ah! master canvas-spoiler. Wherefore so hasty this morning? My
legs befit not the gyves any more than thine own. But many a man
thrusts his favours where they be more rare than welcome. I would do
thee a service."
"'Tis the hangman's, then, for that seems the only favour that befits
my condition."
"Thou art cynical, bitter at thy disappointment. Let us discourse
together hard by. A flask of good Rhenish will soften and assuage thy
humours. A drop of _kirchenwasser_, too, might not be taken amiss this
chill morning."
Nothing loth, Conrad followed the stranger, and they were soon
imbibing some excellent _vin du pays_ in a neighbouring tavern.
"Conrad Bergmann," began the stranger. "Ay, thou art surprised; but I
know more than thy name. Wilt that I do thee a good office?"
"Not the least objection, friend, if the price be within reach.
Nothing pay, nothing have, I reckon."
"The price? Nothing. At least nothing thou need care for. Thou art
thirsting for fame, riches; for the honours of this world;
for--for--the hand--the heart of thy beloved."
Amongst the rest of Conrad's calamities he had the misfortune to be in
love.
"Thou art mighty fluent with thy guesses," replied he, not at all
relishing these unpleasant truths; "and what if I am doomed to pine
after the good I can never attain? I will bear my miseries, if not
without repining, at least without thy pity;" and he arose to depart.
"All that thou pinest after is thine. All!" said the stranger.
"Mine! By what process?--whose the gift? Ha, ha!" and he drained the
brimming glass, waiting a solution of his interrogatory.
"I will be thy instructor. Behold the renowned Doctor Gabriel Ras
Mousa, who hath studied all arts and sciences in the world, who hath
unveiled Nature in her most secret operations, and can make her
submissive as a menial to his will. In a period incredibly short I
engage to make thee the most renowned painter in Christendom."
"And the time requisite to perform this?"
"One month! Ay, by the wand of Hermes, in one month, under my
teaching, shalt thou have thy desire. I watched thy bargain with the
dealer yonder, and have had pity on thy youth and misfortunes."
"Humph--compassion! And the price?" again inquired Conrad, with an
anxious yet somewhat dubious expression of tone.
"The price? Once every month shalt thou paint me a picture."
"Is that all?"
"All."
Now Conrad began to indulge some pleasant fancies. Dreams of hope and
ambition hovered about him; but he soon grew gloomy and desponding as
heretofore. He waxed incredulous.
"One month? Nothing less than a miracle! The time is too short.
Impossible!"
"That is my business. I have both the will and the power. Is it a
bargain?"
Conrad again drained the cup, and things looked brighter. He felt
invigorated. His courage came afresh, and he answered firmly--
"A bargain."
"Give me thy hand."
"O mein Herr--not so hard. Thy grip is like a smithy vice."
"Beg pardon of thy tender extremities. To-morrow then, at this hour,
we begin." Immediately after which intimation the stranger departed.
Conrad returned to his own dwelling. He felt restless, uneasy.
Apprehensions of coming evil haunted him. Night was tenfold more
appalling. Horrid visions kept him in continual alarm.