_Prot._ 'Tis wonderful dark! I have lost my man;
And dare not call for him, but I should have
More followers than I would pay wages to.
What throes am I in--in this travel! These
Be honourable adventures!
_Beaumont and Fletcher_: _Thierry and Theodor_.
"Come, let's away from this old monk's nest," said one of the
constables, "for it looks uncanny."
"Aye, Sampson, and who knows but some of Nicholas's gang may be lurking
behind the pillars?"
"Nay it's not altogether that I'm thinking of; but the old monks with
their cowls; and Merlin; and God knows how many ghosts beside;--I could
fancy that I saw some of them just now at the end of these long
galleries. So let's away."
Others however objected that they were starved by their long watching
in the cold, and stood in need of refreshments. It was determined
therefore to make a halt. Two men staid by the prisoner, whilst the
rest collected wood and soon succeeded in lighting a prodigious fire
upon the spacious area before the main entrance into the Abbey. Round
this the party collected: a hamper of smuggled claret, which they had
fortunately intercepted on its road from the abbey, was unpacked: wine
and the genial warmth of the fire disposed all present except the
prisoner to mirth and festivity; and not one soul but seemed to regard
it as a point of conscience to reward their fatigue and celebrate their
success by getting royally intoxicated.
"Why so downcast, my lad?" said one of the constables to Bertram; "in
my youth I was as near to the gallows as you; and yet you see I am now
virtuous; and a man of credit in the state."
"Aye, Sampson," said Kilmary, "unless you're much belied, you got your
reprieve just as you were going to be turned off."
"And you, Kilmary, got yours something later: for I've often heard that
you were cut down after hanging some five minutes or so. This was in
Wicklow, gentlemen: and being in time of rebellion there was so much
business that they were often obliged to employ dilettanti artists in
hanging: and now and then there was not time to go through the work
properly.--But, as I was saying, courage my young lad. Were I in your
place, I would bless my stars that I had fallen into the company of
honest men, and got rid of such rascally friends as yours, that run
away at the pinch. You see by this that no dependance can be placed
upon such villains, and that virtue only can be relied on. Oh! I could
preach finely to you, my boy: but where's the use of it? If you're
hanged, you'll not want it: and, if you're not hanged, you'll forget
it."
Bertram meantime had for a moment withdrawn his attention from the
unpleasant circumstances of his own situation to the striking features
of the scene before him. In the back ground lay Snowdon bending into a
vast semicircus, and absorbing into its gigantic shadows the minor
hills which lay round its base: all were melted into perfect unity: and
from the height of its main range the whole seemed within a quarter of
a mile from the spot which he himself occupied. Between this and the
abbey lay a level lawn, chequered with moonlight and the mighty shadows
of Snowdon. Of the abbey itself many parts appeared in the distance;
sullen recesses which were suddenly and partially revealed by the
fluctuating glare of the fire; aerial windows through which the sky
gleamed in splendour, unless when it was obscured for a moment by the
clouds which sailed across; pinnacles and crosses of sublime altitude
in the remote distance; and in the immediate foreground the great
gateway of the abbey and the wide circle of armed men carousing about
the fire in sitting or recumbent attitudes.
From this fine natural composition, which he contemplated with a half
regret that Merlin did not really make his appearance from some long
gallery or gloomy arch-way leading Salvator Rosa by the hand, Bertram
was suddenly called off to the conversation around him--which, as the
wine began to act, had gradually risen into the high key of violent
altercation. A reward of 500_l._ had been offered, as he now collected,
for the apprehension of Nicholas; and the dispute turned upon the due
appropriation of this sum.
"What the d---l, Sampson! rank or precedency has nothing to do in this
case: that's settled, and we are all to share alike."
"D---- your impudence," cried Sampson--"Social distinctions in all
things: it's as clear as sunlight in October that I, as leader and the
man of genius, am to have 300_l._; and you divide the other 200_l._
amongst you."
"What?" said the Irishman: "200_l._ amongst eight men?"
"Why, as for you, Kilmary, you get nothing. You stayed behind and
wouldn't venture yourself upon the wall."
"No: Red-hair, you sheer off," exclaimed all the rest: but Red-hair pro
tested against this; and almost screamed with wrath:
"By rights I should have half," said Kilmary; "for without me you would
never have known who he was."
"Not a farthing more than according to merit; and then your share will
come short."
Kilmary leaped up and clenched his fist:
"May the great devil swallow----." But scarce had he uttered a word,
when a shot was fired; then a second--a third--a fourth; and a wild
shout arose at a little distance of--
"Cut them down!"
Sampson had fallen back wounded: but, full of presence of mind, he
called out to the Irishman--"Seize him, Kilmary! seize the prisoner, or
he'll escape."
But Kilmary had been the first to escape himself; some others had
followed: two of more resolution were preparing to execute the orders
of the constable; when suddenly they were assailed so fiercely that one
tumbled into the fire, and the other rolled over the wounded constable.
An uproar of shouts and curses arose: and in this tumult Bertram found
himself seized by two stout fellows who hurried him off, before he had
time to recollect himself, into the shades of a neighbouring thicket.
Here, where nobody could discover them by the light of the fire, they
made a halt and cut the cords that confined the prisoner.
"Take breath for a moment," said one of his conductors, "and then away
with us through thick and thin, before the bloodhounds rally."
"Captain Nicholas, shall we give them another round?" said a voice
which struck Bertram as one which he had somewhere heard before.
"No, no, Tom,--let us be quiet whilst we are well: we have executed our
work in a workmanlike style: another discharge would but serve to point
out the course of our flight: for fly we must; a little bird whispered
in my ear that they have a rear guard: and it will be well if we all
reach our quarters this night in safety: to do which, my lads, our best
chance will be to disperse; so good night to you all, and thanks for
your able services. Mr. Bertram, I will put you in the way."
All the rest immediately stole away like shadows amongst the bushes;
and Bertram again found himself alone with Edward Nicholas, who now
guided him away from the neighbourhood of the abbey by intricate and
almost impracticable paths up hill and down--through blind lanes and
the shadowy skirts of forests--and once or twice along the pebbly
channels of the little mountain brooks. On such ground Bertram often
lost his footing; and Nicholas, who kept a-head, was more than once
obliged to turn back and lend him his assistance. It was with no little
pleasure therefore that at length he found himself again upon a level
path which wound amongst the crags and woodlands--but in so mazy a
track that it required little less than an Indian sagacity to hit it.
From this they immerged into a series of ridings cut through the
extensive woods of Tre Mawr; and, as they approached the end of one of
these alleys, Bertram saw before them a wide heath stretching like a
sea under the brilliant light of the wintry moon which had now attained
her meridian altitude.
"Here," said Nicholas, as they issued upon the heath, "here we must
part: for the road, which I must pursue, would be too difficult for a
person unacquainted with the ground.--You, I suppose, admire this
bright moon and the deluge of light she sheds: so do not I; and I
heartily wish some poet or sonneteer had her in his pocket: for a dark
night would have favoured our retreat much better. As it is, we must
cross the heath by separate routes. You shall have the easiest. Do you
see that black point on the heath? It is a stone of remarkable size and
shape. When you reach it, turn to the left; and then, upon coming to
the peat-trenches, to the right--until you arrive at a little hill:
from the summit of this, and about a mile distant, you will observe
some inclosures: there dwells Evan Williams: mention my name, and he
will gladly harbour you until the heat of the pursuit is over. I will
contrive to communicate with you in a day or two by means of Tom
Godber--the young man who spoke to me as we left Ap Gauvon."
"Ah! by the way, I thought I knew his voice: he is the son then of old
Mrs. Gillie Godber from Anglesea?"
"Exactly: and he is a helper in the stables at Walladmor Castle. You
may trust him safely; for he is entirely attached to my interests: but
now good night; for there is every appearance of snow coming on: it has
been threatening for the last twenty-four hours: cold so severe as this
is always the harbinger of snow: and, from the appearance of the sky at
this moment, I doubt there will be a heavy fall before morning: good
night!"
So saying Edward Nicholas struck across the heath, leaving Bertram in
some perplexity as to the course he ought to adopt. He was aware that
the most favourable step to the establishment of his own innocence
would be to disclaim all voluntary participation in the late rescue by
surrendering himself again to the officers of justice. Yet he could not
but feel that to retrace his steps to Ap Gauvon was a matter of peril
or impossibility under any state of the weather: and at this moment the
threatening aspect of the sky, over which a curtain of clouds was
gradually drawing, combined with his own weariness and craving for rest
to urge him onwards upon the route pointed out by Nicholas. There was
no time for long deliberations: the moon was now left in a deep gulph
of the heavens, which the thick pall of clouds was hastening every
moment to close over: and with some anxiety Bertram started off hastily
in the direction of the stone. This he reached without much difficulty;
took the right turn; and hoped soon to arrive at the peat-ditch which
formed the second point in his _carte du pays_. After walking however
for a longer time than seemed requisite for traversing the distance, he
began to fear that he had wandered from the track. He turned; grew
anxious; diverged a little to the right, and then again to the left, in
hopes of coming upon the object he was in search of; then turned again;
and finally lost all knowledge of his bearing or the direction in which
he had just come, Mounting a little rising ground he beheld the abbey
of Ap Gauvon, apparently two miles distant, still reddening with the
angry glare of torches--sometimes gleaming over the outer walls,
sometimes flashing from the windows or upper battlements; a proof that
the police-officers had not yet renounced all hopes of recovering
their prisoner. This spectacle did not tend to restore him to his
self-possession: he descended the hill in trepidation: and, on reaching
its foot, anxiously considered what it would be best to do. At this
moment, the touch of something wet and cold upon his face struck a deadly
chill to his heart: he hoped he might be mistaken; but the next instant
came a second--a third--a fourth, until the whole air was filled with
snow-flakes. Raising his head at this time he beheld the moon, at an
immense altitude above him, shooting down her light through a shaft as
it were in the clouds: the slender orifice of the shaft contracted: a
sickly mist spread over the disk of the luminary; in a moment after all
was gone; and one unbroken canopy of thick dun clouds muffled the whole
hemisphere.
In this perplexity what was he to do? From the hill, which he had just
descended, he remembered to have seen some dark object, apparently
about half a mile distant: this might be a hovel or small cottage; and
in this direction he determined to run. The snow was now in his back;
and the dark spot soon began to swell upon his sight: in five minutes
more he came up to it. He felt about for door or window; but could find
none: and great was his disappointment when, upon more attentive
examination, he perceived that what he had mistaken for a place of
shelter was the antique stone gallows which he had passed in the
afternoon. Under the lee of this old monument of elder days he was
seeking out a favourable spot for a temporary shelter from the violence
of the storm, when to his sudden horror and astonishment up started a
tall female figure and seized him eagerly by the arm. At first she
seemed speechless from some strong passion, and shaken as if by an ague
fit: but, in a few moments she recovered her voice; and with piercing
tones, in which, though trembling from agitation, Bertram immediately
recognized those of poor Gillie Godber, she exclaimed--
"Ah Gregory! is it you? Are you come at last?--My darling! I have
waited for thee--oh how long! Four and twenty years I have wept and
watched, and watched and wept.--Oh come with me, my boy--my boy! God's
curse on them that ever took thee away! Turn to me, my son: oh come,
come, come, come!"
With the energy of a maniac she flung her withered arm about his neck:
but Bertram was so overcome by the sudden shock of surprise, and by
mingled emotions of awe, pity, and distraction of purpose, on finding
himself thus suddenly in the arms of a lunatic, that he tore himself
violently away and ran off without asking himself whither. The poor
frantic mother pursued him, with outstretched arms and her aged locks
streaming upon the wind; crying out continually,
"Gregory, my love! turn back: the wind is high and stormy; and the
snowflakes are driving--driving--driving! I have kept a fire to warm
you in Anglesea for four and twenty years. Turn back to me, my bonny
lad! my love! my darling!"
Her powers were unable to support her in this contest of speed with the
energies of a young man suddenly restored by the excitement of panic:
and, on looking back within half a minute, Bertram perceived that her
figure was already obscured by the tumult of snow which raged in the
air. Her shrill voice however still at intervals forced its way to his
ear, in the very teeth of the wind, and contributed to aggravate the
distressing circumstances of his situation at this moment. It was a
situation indeed which might have shaken the fortitude of one more
accustomed to struggle with danger. The clouds had now lost their
colour of yellowish dun, and assumed a livid lead colour which
contrasted powerfully with the white livery in which all things were
already arrayed: the snowflakes, conflicting with the baffling wind as
they descended, "tormented all the air,"--and, to the eye of one
looking upwards, seemed to cross--thwart--and mazily interweave with
each other as rapidly as a weaver's shuttle, and with the lambent
scintillating lustre of fire-flies: and the plashes or shallow pools of
water, which were frequent in this part of the heath amongst the
excavations from which peats had been dug, now began under the sudden
breaking up of the frost to give way beneath their warm covering of
snow to the weight of a man. The wind, which was likely to subside as
the fall of snow grew more settled, at present blew a perfect
hurricane; and unfortunately the accidental direction which Bertram had
taken on extricating himself from the poor mad woman,--a direction
which he was unwilling to change from his fear of again falling in with
her,--brought him into direct opposition to it. To these disheartening
and bewildering circumstances of his present situation were added those
of previous exhaustion, cold, hunger, and anxiety in regard to the
probable construction of the share he had borne, as a passive
spectator, in the events of the day; having, however unintentionally,
become a party in the eye of the law to the attack on the revenue
officers--and possibly, as he feared, to that upon the police officers
at Ap Gauvon. Under all these circumstances of distress however he
continued to make way; but more and more slowly: and at length, whilst
cowring his head before the blinding drift of the snow, he plunged
unawares into a peat trench. He found himself up to the shoulders in
water; and with some difficulty crawled out on the opposite bank. This,
which under other circumstances might have been regarded as a
misfortune, now turned out a very serviceable event: for the sudden
shock of this cold bath not only communicated a stimulus to the
drooping powers of his frame, and liberated him from the sleepy torpor
which had been latterly stealing over him,--but, by urging him to run
as vigorously as he could in order to shake off the extreme chill which
now seized him, tended still more to restore the action of his animal
powers. A reviving hope too had suddenly sprung up that this might be
the peat trench to which the directions of Nicholas referred: and he
ran with alacrity and chearfulness. In this course however he was all
at once arrested by a violent blow on his temples. Raising his head,
which he still carried slanting against the wind, to his sudden joy he
discovered in the cause of this rude shock a most welcome indication of
approach to some beaten road, and probably to the dwellings of men. It
was a lofty pole, such as is ordinarily erected upon moorish or
mountainous tracts against the accidents of deep snow. Bertram's hopes
were realized. At a little distance he found a second pole, then a
third, and a fourth, &c. until at length he dropped down upon a little
cluster of cottages. He saw indeed neither house, nor tree, nor hedge
before him: for even a whole village at such a time--its low roofs all
white with snow--would not have been distinguishable: but he heard the
bleating of sheep. Seldom had his heart throbbed with such a sudden
thrill of gladness as at this sound. With hurried steps he advanced,
and soon found a low hedge which without hesitation he climbed; he felt
the outer wall of a house, but could not find the door. Close to the
house however was a wooden barn, from which issued the bleating which
had so much gladdened the poor wanderer; and to this he directed his
steps.
Many a reader, when he runs over this chapter by his warm fire-side, or
possibly in summer, will not forbear laughing. But whosoever, led by
pleasure or necessity, has in winter roamed over a heath in the Scotch
Highlands, and has been fairly mist-foundered,--knows what a blessed
haven for the weary and frozen way-farer is a reeking sheep-cote. The
author of this novel speaks here feelingly and from a memorable
personal experience: upon a romantic pedestrian excursion from
Edinburgh to the western parts of Strathnavern he once lost his way in
company with his friend, Thomas Vanley, Esq. who departed this life
about ten years ago, but will live for ever in his tender recollection.
After wandering for several hours in the thickest mist upon this
_Novembry_ heath, and what by moorish ground--what by the dripping
atmosphere being thoroughly soaked, and stiffening with cold, the
author and Mr. Vanley discovered on a declivity of the bleak Mount
Patrick a solitary hovel. It stood apart from all houses or dwellings;
and even the shepherd on this particular night had stolen away
(probably on a love-tryst): however, if the shepherd was gone, his
sheep were not: and we found about fifty of them in the stall, which
had recently been littered with fine clean straw. We clambered over the
hurdle at the door; and made ourselves a warm cozy lair amongst the
peaceful animals. Many times after in succeeding years Mr. Vanley
assured me--that, although he had in India (as is well known to the
public) enjoyed all the luxuries of a Nabob whilst he served in those
regions under Sir Arthur Wellesley, yet never had any Indian bed been
so voluptuous to him as that straw-bed amongst the sheep upon the
desolate wilds of Mount Patrick.
To his great delight Bertram found the door of the barn only latched:
without noise he opened it just wide enough to admit his person;
and then, closing it again cautiously, climbed over the great hurdle
which barricadoed the entrance. Then he groped along in a stooping
posture--feeling his way on the ground, as he advanced, with his hands;
but, spite of all his precaution, the sheep were disturbed; they fled
from him bleating tumultuously, as commonly happens when a stranger
intrudes amongst them, and crowded to the furthest corner of the barn.
Much greater was his alarm however when all at once he stumbled with his
hands upon a long out-stretched human body. He shrank back with sudden
trepidation; drew in his breath; and kept himself as still as death.
But, observing by the hard and uniform breathing that it was a man
buried in profound sleep, he stepped carefully over him, and sought a
soft and warm bed in the remotest corner of the barn. Luckily he found
means to conciliate the aboriginal tenants of the barn; and in no long
time two fleecy lambs couched beside him; and he was forced to confess
that after the fatigues of such a day no bed could have been more
grateful or luxurious.