It was the intention of Bertrand to open the door of the subterranean
passage, which communicated with Mettingham-castle; but, before they
proceeded par, something rushed past them several times: it was rapid,
and their candle threw so feeble a light on the walls which surrounded
them, that they could not discover what it was.
They hurried on till they came to the square leading to the dungeons,
when their attention was arrested, and their fears increased by the
barking of a dog. They hesitated, looked with astonishment at each
other, and stopped, as if irresolute whether to return or proceed.
In the mean while, the little animal made its appearance, jumped and
capered about, as it it rejoiced at seeing them in its dreary
habitation, attached itself particularly to Roseline, and seemed to
recognize an old and beloved friend.
Roseline took it up in her arms, kissed and caressed it; but how
to account for meeting with so beautiful, fond, and gentle a creature
was not only matter of surprise but wonder.
"Are you sure, sister, (said Edwin, slily glancing a look at the
pale face and trembling lips of the terrified Madeline,)--are you
sure it is a real dog?--May it not be one of the ghosts, who, in
such various shapes, are said to haunt these gloomy regions, and
disturb the peaceful slumbers of young maidens, born perhaps two
hundred years after they had left the world?"
This gentle reproof restored the roses to the fair cheek from which
fear had driven them, while Roseline declared it was really and truly
the prettiest dog she had ever seen. Bertrand had looked thoughtful,
agitated, and confused, from the moment it appeared.
"This dog must have a master, (said Edwin,) and that master must be
somewhere near these cells."
"Perhaps (said Bertrand) some daring villain may have found entrance
here, either with the hopes of plunder, or to accomplish designs
against the castle; let us therefore, for the present, give up
attempting to explore the passage; it might be dangerous to unfasten
a door which is now our security."
"Had we not better call for help?" said the again-terrified Madeline.
"Not for the world! (interrupted Edwin;)--how should we be able to
account to my mother for being in this place, without burthening her
mind with ten thousand suspicions? while, telling her our reasons
would most assuredly expose our venerable companion to the certain
displeasure of my father.--Do you (said he, addressing Bertrand)
know if there is any one a prisoner at this time?"
The old man hesitated.--"I know but little--I apprehend it may be
so,--but I--I hope you will excuse my talking on a subject
that--that--"
"It must assuredly be so, (said Roseline softly to her brother,) and
from that cause proceeded the noises which so repeatedly alarmed us."
Again every one stood for a moment irresolute. Edwin, however, fearful
of bringing his father's anger on Bertrand, and scorning to tempt
the old man to betray and trust reposed in him, or any secret belonging
to another, instantly formed his resolution to act with the utmost
caution. He proposed to his sister and Madeline to return to their
apartment as soon as Bertrand had pointed out the passage which led
to the nunnery.--On being shewn the door which might one day enable
him to meet his Madeline, and open to give him a gleam of happiness,
Roseline snatched up the little dog, pressed him to her bosom, and
vowed to release him from captivity.
As soon as they had reached their own apartment, Bertrand, after
promising eternal secrecy, took a respectful leave. Edwin accompanied
him to his room, then returned to his sister's and proposed instantly
renewing their search.
"This is doing nothing, (said he;) all is still left to conjecture
and uncertainty."
"If you mean to go again, (said Madeline,) why did you suffer Bertrand
to leave us?"
"From respect to my father and regard to the old man, (he replied;)
for should we, my dear Madeline, make any discovery of consequence,
with us the secret will rest secure, and, should we be found out, on
ourselves alone will fall the displeasure of Sir Philip; but, by
this procedure, we empower no one either to betray his secrets or
our own. We will, however, carry back with us this little stranger,
(continued he, pointing to the dog, who was sleeping on a cushion
which Roseline had placed for him before the fire,) and, when we
set him down, we will follow wherever he may choose to lead us: If
he be attached to any miserable being confined in one of the cells
or dungeons, we may depend upon his returning to his usual habitation."
Once more the trap-door was lifted up; once more the party descended
into regions like those of the grave, while the mouldering walls,
glittering with the dews of night, and rendered humid with the
unwholsome damps of the situation, hung loose and disjointed over
their heads, as if to threaten instant destruction.
Turning into a passage which led to a contrary direction to that
they had before entered, and which was somewhat wider and less dismal
than the other, Roseline sat down the dog, who ran nimbly away, as
if well acquainted with the path. They followed with the utmost
caution, observing a profound silence. The dog went before them the
whole length of the passage, then turned suddenly down a few steps,
at the bottom of which a door stood half-open: he rushed in, and
appeared to them to stop at some distance. Instantly they heard him
growl and bark, and this determined them to proceed.
They passed through two small apartments decently furnished, and,
just as they reached an inner door, at which the dog had demanded
admittance, they saw it slowly open, and a faint voice appeared to
chide the guiltless wanderer for his long, long absence, and then
to caress him with fondness.
Edwin, knowing, if he hesitated to proceed, the fears of his
companions would increase by the delay, gently tapped at the door.
For a minute all was silent; he then gave some louder raps. The same
person very soon opened the door, of whom they had caught a transient
glimpse when he had granted admittance to the dog. He was evidently
alarmed, and in tremulous and terrified accents inquired who was
there,--what was the matter,--and what errand brought them? at the
same time brandishing a sword, which he had hastily snatched from a
chair which stood near him.
"Whoever you are (continued he) that have found a way to this den
of misery, you may safely enter, unless you come to add farther
oppressions, and inflict additional woes on the head of an injured
and guiltless sufferer. If you come with such diabolical intentions,
be assured of this,--I will no longer be a passive or silent spectator
of such unheard of barbarity, but give up a life in his defence which
cruelty has rendered a worthless sacrifice. Forego then your designs,
and know he will not long be either a burthen or reproach to his
unnatural parent and sordid oppressors."
"We come with no design to injure or oppress, (said Edwin.) We inhabit
this castle, and were led by the curiosity incidental to youth into
these horrid regions.--Chance conducted us into these apartments,
without knowing they were inhabited.--We wish not to alarm or interrupt
any one, but of this be assured, if you will inform us how we can
serve you, or render your situation more comfortable, we will gladly
contribute all in our power to do so. Your countenance does not appear
stamped with guilt, and your determination to protect the injured
speaks a noble mind."
The sword was instantly laid down,--the door flew open,--and they
were requested to enter by one, who told them his life and courage
were only valuable so long as they would enable him to watch and
protect the best and most beloved of masters.
Reader, guess, if it be possible, the surprise and astonishment of
our trembling and compassionate adventurers, when they beheld and
elegant young man, whose countenance was as prepossessing as his
situation was interesting, wrapped in a striped-satin morning-gown,
which reached to his feet, with his hair hanging in graceful ringlets,
and nearly concealing a face pale as death, lying on a kind of couch,
and to all appearance in the last stage of a consumption.
On the entrance of Edwin, he took but little notice, but, on seeing
Roseline and her friend advance, he looked up, and attempted to rise,
but was not equal to the effort, and instantly sunk down in a state
of apparent insensibility. Roseline, more agitated and terrified by
the whole of this unaccountable and affecting scene than she would
have been at the sight of the ghost she had almost expected to meet,
flew to support him. She was assisted by Edwin and Madeline, and
their united endeavours soon restored the poor sufferer to life and
an imperfect sense of his situation.
Having now no longer any fears, he fixed his large blue eyes on the
strangers,--wondered from whence they came,--how all this could
happen,--and to what blessed chance it was owing the he saw himself
attended and consoled by two celestial beings, for as such he actually
considered them; while the pure drops of genuine and the gentlest
pity fell softly on his emaciated hand, he raised the precious gems
of compassion to his lips, sighed deeply, then, looking earnestly
in the face of Roseline, with a smile of doubt and anguish once more
sunk down in a state of insensibility, unable to bear the weight of
his own agitated and contending feelings.
The attendant, who had strictly observed the whole of this
extraordinary scene, now approached to assist in recovering his
master. Edwin hastened to his sister's apartment to procure proper
restoratives; they were applied with their usual success, and the
change they produced gave new life and spirits to all around,
particularly Roseline, who concluded they arrived merely to witness
his dying moments, and hear him breathe his last sigh.
She was still supporting his languid head on her knee; his hand
rested on her arm, his eyes were fixed upon her face, his lips moved,
and the words "kind, consoling angel: were all they could understand.
"What can this mean? (said Edwin;) who is your master?--who brought
him here? and of what crime has he been guilty that he is sentenced
to such a place as this?"--
"I am bound (replied the servant) by the most solemn oath to silence
and secresy. By complying with these conditions I obtained leave to
attend him. Were I at liberty to speak, I could a tale unfold would
tempt you to curse the world, and even detest those claims which bind
man to man. You would be ready to forego the ties of nature, and shun
society.--Time will, it must develop the whole of this mystery."
"But my father!" said Edwin.
"Your father, sir, like my dear unhappy master, is blameless and
innocent: he has been deceived like many others."
"But why (cried Roseline) are you thus shut out from the world, and
banished society?--why, if innocent, is not this poor sufferer placed
in a situation more likely to restore him to health?--why thus cruelly
deprived not only of liberty, light, and air, but of every other
necessary comfort?"
"A higher power has willed it should be so," said the stranger, whose
unreserved manner, superior language, honest and open countenance,
found an instant passport to their hearts, confirmed their belief,
and banished every suspicious doubt of his sincerity.
"Are you involved in the crimes of which this gentleman is suspected?"
inquired Madeline.
"No, madam; my only crime is my attachment to him. I am here by my
own voluntary choice, and were they to convey him a thousand fathoms
deeper in the earth, I would not, unless I were compelled, ever leave
him till his noble and guiltless soul was summoned to appear before
a more just and merciful tribunal than he has found on earth."
"A thousand blessings on you! (cried Roseline, a tear trembling in
each expressive eye,) for shewing this care and god-like compassion
to one so helpless and oppressed.--Brother, surely we may, without
deserving reproach, unite our endeavours with those of this friendly
stranger, to soften the pangs of misery and death, be they inflicted
by whom they may."
"You ought to do so, (cried the lovely Madeline, whose gentle spirit
was awakened into action by the scene before her.)--As fellow-creatures,
and the children of the same Almighty Parent, it is our duty to assist
each other; but we should do more, not remain coldly indifferent to
sufferings which, if we cannot entirely remove, we may in some measure
alleviate."
"And we will do so! (cried the generous and animated Edwin.)--You too,
my honest fellow, (turning to the servant,) shall share in our kind
offices. You deserve the thanks of every good Christian, and to be
immortalized for your faithful attachment to one so helpless and unable
to reward you.--But how is this?" observing the invalid had sunk into
a gentle and quiet sleep; like the peaceful slumber of an infant.
"This has been the case for some weeks. His spirits depressed by the
corroding anguish which preys upon his mind, his body has become a
victim to the conflict, and the soul of my master will soon, by
quitting this earthly tenement, escape the farther persecution of his
enemies. Much, much as I love him, I should rejoice at his release."
The words trembled on his tongue, and the tear of manly compassion
rolled down his cheek.
"Has he no one to attend him? (said Roseline, looking at him with
eyes that beamed with all the heavenly animation which at that moment
throbbed around her heart;) has he no advice?"
"Only such as I can give him, madam. Poor and ignorant as I am, he
has never been allowed any other physician, or better tutor than
myself; but I trust, if the Almighty would again restore him to
health, he would now meet with those who would assist in performing
a task for which I was never calculated."
"Has he no bed to sleep on?" cried Roseline, gently removing his
languid head upon a cushion that laid on a couch, without
awakening him.
"There is one in the inner apartment, but this being the most
comfortable and airy room, he will not leave it."
"I will fetch some pillows."
She did so; they were instantly placed under his head. Still he
slept as if her were never to awake again.
"In the morning, (said Roseline,) at the foot of the stairs, which
your will find by turning to the left, at the end of this passage,
I will leave some few trifles and comfortable cordials, which I hope
will be of service.
"And tomorrow night, at about this time, you may expect us again,
(said Edwin.) I hope your master will then have shaken off this
death-like slumber, and be able to converse with us."
"Perhaps he may, (replied Albert, the name of this faithful servant;)
but he never talks much. I had taught him to read, but they took
away our books, and since that time I am afraid he has lost the
remembrance of the little knowledge he had of reading. He has lately
learned to play a few simple tunes on the lute,--that sometimes
amuses him."
"We will bring you some books, (said Roseline,) and surely, Edwin,
you and I can assist Albert in the delightful task of restoring by
friendship what has been lost by cruelty."
Albert informed them they were regularly served with their meals,
but never saw the person who brought them, all intercourse with any
one being forbidden, to prevent the possibility of discovery or escape;
but, he said, they had better food and more indulgences than had been
allowed them in their former prison, which consisted only of one room.
The party now retired with the utmost caution, lest they should
disturb the apparently-peaceful slumbers of the prisoner, and deprive
him of his only refuge from misery.
Before they parted, Roseline and her brother, actuated by the same
generous feelings in behalf of this unfortunate young man, and his
equally unfortunate companion, satisfied, should there be found any
thing in their conduct to condemn, (which they could not bring
themselves to think,) in their present situation there was much to
pity, resolved to unite in their endeavours of relieving their
miseries, and softening the rigours of a confinement, of which they
knew not the cause; but they were told, the object who had most excited
their compassion was innocent, and therefore they determined to think
him so till his own conduct, or an explanation from any other quarter,
proved him otherwise. It is true, they had nothing on which to found
their belief but the word of a stranger, and him they found in the
humble capacity of a servant; but, though a stranger, he had, by his
simple, modest, and unaffected language, given ample proofs in their
opinion of his sincerity.
They now left the cells, and retired instantly to bed,--dreamed of
the prisoner, and sometimes imagined they could distinguish his groans;
in fact, they thought and talked of him, and him only.
Early in the morning, Roseline carried every little nicety she could
procure, and left them at the foot of the stairs,--then hurried back
to her room, not daring to stop and make inquiries, lest the person
who supplied the object of her pity with his daily food should discover
and betray her benevolent designs.
Madeline was now making a rapid progress in her recovery, and was
every hour in fear of receiving a summons from the abbess to return
to the nunnery. Edwin participated in all her fears, and lamented,
in the language of tender affection, the cruel necessity which
compelled her to leave the castle, protesting neither walls nor vows
should long divide them, and swearing to release her from a situation,
which, though sanctioned by religion, only bigotry, superstition, and
priestcraft, could justify; which he knew would not only destroy
all his prospects of happiness, but, as he could not disbelieve the
fascinating hopes he had not absolutely been forbidden to cherish,
the happiness also of a beloved object, dearer to him than life,
without whom fortune, honour, prosperity, and youth, would be robbed
of all their value.
The next day, accompanied by Bertrand, Edwin stole by another entrance
into the lower recesses of the castle, not mentioning a word of the
prisoner, and carefully avoiding that quarter in which he was confined.
They first explored the subterraneous passage, leading to the nunnery,
and found fewer impediments in their way than they expected. They
easily gained an entrance into the chapel, having fixed upon an hour
when they knew all the fathers and nuns would be engaged in their
cells. They found the opening under the organ, and in that part of the
chapel appropriated to the use of the nuns, the door being concealed
from observation by a very curious tomb, belonging to the ancient
family of De G--.
They entered next the passage leading to Mettingham-castle, and
determined to see the whole of it. Here they met with many
difficulties: in some places huge stones had fallen from the
walls,--in others the arch-way was so low they were almost obliged
to crawl,--while toads, snakes, and various kinds of reptiles impeded
their progress; when, at length, they reached the end of this
wonderful labyrinth, the production of labour and art, they found
themselves close to the ballium of Mettingham-castle, and under a
strong machiolated and embattled gate.
They now discovered another short passage, which was terminated by
a door that opened to the outer ballium, and through which the cavalry
could sally in any case of emergency. They ventured cautiously to look
around them. Edwin's mind, however, was chiefly occupied by one dear
object, and he secretly rejoiced at having found the means of escaping
with Madeline, should the obstinacy of her parents, or the ambition of
his own, leave him no other resource.
He likewise, in the course of the day, but unaccompanied by any one,
opened the door on the stair-case leading to the South tower. He felt
a kind of repugnance at taking this step, but determined, as matters
were now circumstanced, to go through the whole of this unpleasant
business at once, that nothing might be left to conjecture. He also
recollected that it would not only put an end to that restless
curiosity which had long dwelt upon his mind, but enable him to judge
whether it would be possible to remove the dying prisoner into a more
airy and convenient room, without the hazard of a discovery.
This wind of the castle he knew was totally unoccupied, as in his
boyish days he had frequently, and at all times gone that way to
the ramparts to lodge his playthings in a secret apartment in one
of the highest towers, and never in his peregrination had met with
a human being.
On attempting first to open the door, he was a good deal startled
at the noise it occasioned, and was almost buried beneath the heap
of cobwebs and dirt which fell and enveloped him in a cloud of
dust.--Some birds too, that had here found a sage asylum, flew in
terror around him. Not willing to disturb them more than was necessary,
he unfastened a narrow casement, to give those opportunity of
escaping who wished to obtain their liberty. He then stole softly
and cautiously across the room to an opposite door, which opened
without any difficulty, and he entered a second apartment, much larger
and more commodious than the first. It was hung with ancient
tapestry, on which time and moth had made many depredations; but,
in some parts of it, the full-length figures remained perfect, and
the colours retained some of their beautiful shades. He soon discovered
that it represented the most striking and interesting scenes in the
well-known history of Hero and Leander, from his first seeing her,
in the temple of Venus, at Seftos, in Thrace, till the last closing
scene of their unfortunate loves.
The figures of the lovers were fine, and in excellent preservation,
and the tapestry was of so superior a kind, that it gave as full
force and expression to the faces and drapery as the finest painting
could have conveyed. The temple, the palace, the turret, and the
Hellespont, upon whose waves the rising and setting sun were
alternately reflected, with the downy swan, in snowy dignity, which
was seen laving on its bosom were admirably depicted.
The nurse, or attendant of the faithful Hero stood at full length
on the edge of the water, which gently undulated near the walls of
the palace, pointing to the waves, and as if in the act of telling
her fond, impatient mistress her lover was coming, while she, with
modest sweetness, seemed fearful of stealing a look at the element
which contained a treasure dearer to her soul that the whole of her
ambitious father's dominions.
In another part, he saw the lifeless body of Leander, and the
despairing Hero in the act of throwing herself into the Hellespont,
which had unfortunately proved the grave of her lover.
Edwin stood a long time, silently admiring this pathetic tale: it
had an instantaneous effect upon his feelings; it served to remind
him of the difficulties he should have to encounter in his attachment
to Madeline, and he could have kissed the senseless portrait of the
old Egyptian woman for her kind and faithful attentions to the
persecuted lovers.
In the middle of the room stood a square table, on which were
carelessly spread a number of papers. Four massy silver candlesticks
were likewise placed upon it, each of which contained a wax-candle,
that had never been lighted, and an old writing, to which was annexed
a vast many seals, laid folded up under them.
This he concluded was the mystic bond which held in captivity the
restless spirit it was supposed to confine. Edwin opened and attempted
to read it. In some parts the writing was defaced, and the whole of
the language so unintelligible, he very soon replaced it in its former
situation, imagining that, if the ghost was not to regain its liberty
till the bond could be read, it would rest in peace for ever, and
suffer others to do the same.
In the chimney stood an antique grate, that had once been bright,
and still shewed some of its brilliant features through the rust by
which it was enveloped. A few chairs were standing here and there,
but they were falling to decay. He then opened another door, which
led him into a vaulted chamber, in which were placed the tattered
remains of a bed, that had been handsome, and could be repaired. A
book of devotion was lying upon it. The windows were high and narrow,
admitting but little light, notwithstanding which they were secured
by iron bars of immense thickness, so strongly, that, had they been
lower, it would have been impossible for the arm of the strongest
man to remove or shake them.
This led him to conclude it was originally designed for the security
of prisoners of rank, its distance from the ground precluding any
communication with the people on guard; and he shuddered as he
recollected how many, like the poor prisoner in the cells, might
have lingered away their wretched existence in this very apartment,
in the hopeless expectation of meeting with a release.
He next carefully searched in every part of the room, to discover
if there was not a more secret entrance, but found none.--He put the
key into his pocket, as he had before done that of the trap-door,
and in the morning, unobserved by Bertrand, had the precaution not
to lock the door of the subterraneous passage, leaving it well
secured by the bolts and bars which were on the inside.
He now hastened to replace all the rest of the keys in the repository
from whence he had taken them, and was satisfied those he retained in
his own possession would not be missed by his father or any one else.
After this he returned to join the family, and said not a word of
what he had seen, nor the plans which floated in his own mind, in
consequence of the morning peregrinations he had taken.