_Colin prepares for his undertaking, and exhibits great stubbornness of
temper in withstanding many difficulties._
From the time at which James Woodruff had received the little packet, up
to the eventful night when the attempt to extricate him from confinement
was to be made, Colin had busily employed all his spare hours in
manufacturing in secret such articles for his purpose as he conceived
he should require. This he was the better enabled to do, from having
accompanied Fanny on a visit of inspection to the place, when, by the
top of the old yew-tree being visible above the high wall, she was
enabled to point out to him the exact spot in which her father was
confined, and where his attempt must necessarily be made.
On the afternoon preceding the appointed night, Colin asked for leave
to go to Bramleigh on particular business; and at the same time stated,
that, as it might detain him rather late, he should very probably
have to remain there all night. Much to his surprise, Miss Sowersoft
immediately granted his request with a more than ordinary grace; at the
same time remarking very pleasantly, “that if his business there was but
honest and good, she hoped he would succeed in it, as everybody ought to
do; but if people went about unprincipled jobs of any kind, it was very
right and just that the evil spirit they served should betray them in
the end.”
At any other time Colin might not have noticed these remarks; but, under
present circumstances, they sunk deep into his mind. He feared that
his design had, by some means or other, become, if not wholly known, at
least suspected; and during the next half hour, instead of setting
out, he sat down upon the step of the open house-door, considering what
course he ought to pursue. The doubts which then arose in his mind were
not so much the result of fear as of cautious forecast, touching the
probable result of his enterprise. If by any means it had been found
out, his wisest course would be to abandon it for the present, and
either wait some more favourable opportunity, or leave the whole
matter in abeyance until his visit to the Hall, on the Squire's return,
afforded him a chance of explaining the circumstances to that gentleman,
and of gaining, if possible, his assistance. Yet, if he did so, what
would Mr. Woodruff think? He would wait in horrible anxiety hour after
hour, still depending upon the word of him, who said that nothing
short of death should prevent his coming. These reflections decided the
question. Colin rose up, and within ten minutes was some distance on his
road.
Another circumstance disturbed him. Before leaving the house, he saw
Mr. Palethorpe, with his best inexpressibles on, preparing himself
apparently for a short journey; and, on Colin's putting the question
to him, he observed, with a malicious grin, that _he_ also was going to
Bramleigh. The youth turned pale, and red, and pale again, as shame
and fear alternately predominated, though he pursued his way with
undiminished resolution, conscious that he had engaged in a good cause,
and resolved rather to fail in it than to commit himself in falsehood,
through the foolish dread of some undefined and perhaps imaginary
danger.
Colin arrived at his mother's house about six o'clock in the evening,
and, by previous appointment, met there with his friend Fanny. Together
they put everything into a state of preparation; while Colin, as a
precautionary measure, in case anything unfortunate should happen,
obliged the young woman to take three guineas of the fifteen which
Mr. Lupton had sent him, and the whole of which he had brought in his
pocket, in case it should be required for the service of Mr. Woodruff
when he had got out of the mad-house.
As hour after hour passed by, the young couple grew indescribably
anxious and restless. Fanny dreaded that some unforeseen evil would
befall Colin, and with tears in her eyes now begged him to give up the
design, and wait until the Squire's return enabled them to do so
much more securely. To this he replied in few words, that what he had
promised to do he would do, happen what might.
“Then,” said Fanny, “let us tell your mother all about it. I dare say
she means the best for both of us, after all; and then, perhaps, she may
think of something to help you in the attempt.”
Mrs. Clink was accordingly informed, very much to her amazement, of the
principal heads of this affair, so far as already known to the reader,
and also of the business which, in consequence, Colin now had upon his
hands. This last she considered highly chimerical and dangerous; she
prophesied it would lead to nothing but trouble to himself; declared
positively that twenty better methods could readily be devised; and
concluded by assuring her son, that if he did not relinquish it at once
and for ever, he would surely live to repent it before another week was
over his head. Colin's reply again was, that no representations whatever
could induce him to alter his purpose; and he began to get ready, and
tie up his simple apparatus for climbing the wall.
At half-past nine o'clock he was ready to set out. Somehow, he knew not
why, Colin felt that he must bid his mother and Fanny a more serious
adieu than usual. His mother kissed him, and Fanny,--she, when in the
shadow of the door, kissed him too, and asked a thousand blessings
on his head. He promised, in case he succeeded, to be back with Mr.
Woodruff in the course of an hour and a half; and, having again shaken
hands with Fanny, he passed out into the street.
That hour and a half passed heavily by, during which Mrs. Clink and
Fanny talked the matter over again, reflected, speculated, hoped, and
feared. Colin did not come.
Eleven o'clock struck--he was not there; they looked out, but could see
nothing; listened, but could hear nothing.
Twelve came--midnight--he did not return. Fanny could not be restrained
by Mrs. Clink any longer, and she went up alone to the scene of his
enterprise, trusting there at least to ascertain something. All was
silent as the grave. One solitary light alone, as of some one retiring
to quiet rest, was visible in the mad-house, and that was all. But while
she stood, she heard a horseman enter the stony yard, as though he had
come from the Whin-moor road. The light of a lantern glanced along the
walls above, and then vanished in the stables. She hastened, terrified,
back again--Colin was not there. The whole night passed--morning
broke--the world grew light and gay--but he did not come again.