THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE.
"As one who, from the sunshine and the green,
Enters the solid darkness of a cave,
Nor knows what precipice or pit unseen
May yawn before him with its sudden grave,
And, with hushed breath, doth often forward lean,
Dreaming he hears the splashing of a wave
Dimly below, or feels a damper air
From out some dreary chasm, he knows not where."
--JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
On the following day a solemn procession descended the stone steps
which led to the door of the famed secret passage, and after some
shrieking and pretence at fainting on the part of Lady Rosamond, she
and Primrose, attended by Sir Ivor, and preceded by two of the
men-servants carrying lanterns, plunged into the dark recesses of the
tunnel. At first the darkness and the stooping posture which had to
be maintained were considerably trying to the two fair ladies,
though, having once started, neither would give in nor own to the
slightest fatigue. And as their eyes became more accustomed to the
dim light, it seemed to grow stronger and brighter, and they were
able to see the ruggedness of their path, and choose their steps more
warily. The walls also gradually increased in height, so that in
many places they could walk for some distance without stooping,
though again at times there would be a sudden fall, and they were
fain to crawl on hands and knees through some narrow tunnel, emerging
somewhat exhausted, yet finding the situation far too exciting to
allow of actual weariness. "I would we could walk through to Bryn
Afon!" exclaimed Primrose. "That would be a grand adventure!" "It
is little short of twelve miles in distance, my child," said Sir
Ivor, "and bravely though you are still travelling, I dare hardly
take on me the responsibility of such a journey for either of you!
Were Lord Bryn Afon at the castle and aware of our intention, so that
he might admit us, and allow of our returning by the road, after
sleeping off our fatigues, it would perhaps be another matter." "Ah,
I would he were there!" cried Primrose; "yet an he were"--and her
face fell--"I might not venture there with you, for by my mother's
orders I have ever been most strictly forbidden to set foot within
the castle walls. I often marvel why she has such dread of the curse
which has fallen upon it." "Bryn Afon Castle is avoided by all,"
said Sir Ivor, "so that your mother's prohibition is not so passing
strange. The rumour of the curse is widely spread over the country
hereabouts, and has been so these hundred years and more, and there
are few among Lord Bryn Afon's Welsh friends who ever venture a foot
therein. In truth, I believe that none are e'er admitted, save only
the friends he himself brings with him when he sojourns there awhile,
and also myself and Lady Rosamond, the Merediths of Caer Caradoc
having ever been faithful friends of the family. Now we will proceed
some few yards farther, and shall then arrive at the bottomless well,
which you, Primrose, will doubtless contemplate with some interest.
And after that, my men, I must bid you return, for we must not forget
that we have tender women in our charge, for whom such rude paths
were never destined, and we have already walked some three or four
miles." "Now, is it not provoking to be a weak woman?" exclaimed
Lady Rosamond. "I am just beginning to enjoy most thoroughly my
subterranean career, with never a thought of fatigue, and my tyrant
orders our return! Ah, let us go on bravely to Bryn Afon. I will
bear home the drooping Primrose upon my own shoulders." "It must not
be, dear heart," replied Sir Ivor with a smile. "Moreover, you would
see no greater wonders than at present. The passage but winds on
mile after mile as now, with more or less of roughness on the
pathway, and ever and anon blocked with these wearisome tunnels.
Within some three miles or so of Bryn Afon it branches off, however,
in two directions, one leading quickly to yon fair castle of Craig
Arthur, whose wooded heights and peeping grey turrets hanging just
above our river we all love so well, the other winding onwards, as
you know, to Bryn Afon. Now, beware how you tread. Turn the lantern
this way, Llewellyn, and give me your hand, sweet wife, and your
other to Primrose. Here is the bottomless well." They stood and
looked down into the black abyss, Lady Rosamond and Primrose gazing
into its gruesome depths with a sort of fascinated awe. Above the
well was an overhanging mass of rock, and the narrow pathway wound so
closely round the dark corner that, but for the strong iron rails
with which Sir Ivor had of late years securely fenced it in, an
unwary passer-by might only too easily plunge by one false step into
its yawning depths. "And is there truly no bottom?" asked Primrose,
shuddering, as she thought of Jack's fair young daughter, hurrying
with giddy footsteps along the rude pathway, and then, but one step
more, and cruel death in this horror of darkness! "So it has always
been said," answered Sir Ivor, "and the sad story of the boatman's
daughter served only to strengthen the idea, since her body was never
discovered." "Dad has ever believed," said Primrose, "that her body
was caught upon some ledge of rock at an untold depth. Men tried
with ropes to discover it, but it was never found, neither could the
bottom of the well be reached by the bravest of them. Dad says, too,
there is a horrible tale of a wheel far, far below, which sucks down
aught that is thrown into the well, and was so devised centuries ago
as a horrid punishment for doomed prisoners. But he does not dare to
dwell upon so terrible a thought." "It is so, according to the old
traditions," said Sir Ivor, "and legend says, moreover, that by
placing the ear as close as may be to the surface of the well, the
swishing sound of the wheel may be plainly heard." They stooped,
leaning their heads through the iron rails, over the top of the well,
and from far below heard clearly a faint, whispering sound in the
water's black depths, so distant that in the dead silence of the
ghostly corridor the ear could but just detect it. Primrose
shivered, and Lady Rosamond sprang up, exclaiming, "After that I have
had enough and will return home, Ivor, with all dutiful obedience. I
have experienced a horror sufficient to satisfy the most morbid
craving. Primrose, you are pale as death, and verily your 'each
particular hair'--and mine likewise--'doth stand on end,' as good
Master Shakespeare hath it. I doubt the wisdom of suffering you to
gaze upon this awful spot, child. Tell her a cheerful tale, Ivor, to
banish the thought from her mind, else will the vision of the
boatman's daughter haunt her to-night in her dreams. Poor old man, I
do verily pity him from my heart." "I am glad to have seen the
place," said Primrose, "for many a time I have thought upon her sad
fate, and have wondered if it could be true. Now I see it is but too
likely a fate to befall any rash wanderer in this gruesome darkness.
But I cannot forbear thinking that surely those left in charge of the
castle were much to blame for letting her by any means gain
possession of the key of this horrible place." "The housekeeper,
left in charge at the time of the sad occurrence, never recovered
from the shock," said Sir Ivor, "and her death was doubtless hastened
by the remorse from which she suffered for her carelessness. The
girl was however wild and wilful, and none will ever know where the
fault lay. I now keep the key ever about my own person, nor dream of
leaving it in the care of servants; but without so melancholy a
warning, I doubt that I should have been so careful over it, so that
I cannot too severely blame those before me for their seeming want of
thought. In my father's day the passage had not been long wholly
disused, and he was so well accustomed to allow myself and my
brothers to roam freely about it, that fear of the well had little
place in his mind. For our part, we were bold, lawless young
termagants, and having no mother to restrain us, did much as we
would, knowing scarce the name of fear. At the time of the accident
my father was abroad, and my brothers and myself at Oxford, where I
well remember the news reaching us, and our horror at such an event
having come to pass in our absence. I was myself, on my return home,
lowered into the well so far as the longest ropes would surfer me to
descend, but nought was at any time discovered of the poor girl's
remains, the bonnet caught on yon ledge of rock close to the well's
mouth being the only means of judging of her sad fate."
"And did you and your brothers at any time reach the end of the
passage?" asked Primrose, "More than once," answered Sir Ivor,
"having agreed beforehand with Lord Bryn Afon, then a boy much of our
own age, to admit us. He was but rarely at the castle, his father,
the late earl, loving it not much better than his predecessors; but
on those rare occasions it was our greatest joy to penetrate into the
doomed building, to roam the ancient corridors and wake the echoes in
the deserted dwelling-rooms, few of which were maintained in such
order as to be habitable." "Then," said Primrose eagerly, "since you
have been within the castle, and known the Lord Bryn Afon as a boy,
did you never perchance discover the secret of the curse?" "It was a
matter on which no word was ever breathed," answered Sir Ivor. "The
present earl, as a boy, was ignorant of its nature, and his parents
caring not to speak of it, their friends durst not, in kindness, ask
them any questions thereon. Since my friend has grown to manhood he
has ne'er shown any confidence in me in this particular, ever
affecting to treat it lightly, as a thing unworthy of comment. Yet
that he does not in his secret heart so regard it is shown plainly
enough by the strong aversion he has ever manifested towards his old
home." "Methinks it weighs sorely upon Lady Bryn Afon also," said
Primrose, "for her face is much worn with care and pain, and often
while I was in her company I heard her sigh most sorrowfully when she
thought I was not by, and more than once I have found her with tears
upon her cheeks." "She has reason for her sorrow," said Lady
Rosamond, "for you must know that she married against her father's
will, and has ever since been wholly cut off from her own people, and
this is ever a most wearing grief to her, indeed so painful that even
to me, her friend, she will not speak of it. True, I am much younger
than she, and of too frivolous a deportment, I trow, to encourage
much secret confidence; yet I have more heart--and so my lord will
bear me witness--than one would give me credit for, perchance! But
the Lady Bryn Afon is one of those self-contained souls who are by
nature strong enough to bear their burdens unaided; and whereas I
should betray my griefs to the world with noisy lamentations, she
finds greater solace in wrapping them up closely in her own breast.
Indeed I should scarce have heard from her own lips even such scanty
news of her marriage as I have told you, and have learned it but from
a conversation held one day between her husband and mine. The men
are greater gossips than we, I warrant you! The unfortunate Lord
Bryn Afon confessed that although he had never repented him of his
hasty marriage, for the love it had brought him, yet he could but
fear the lack of an heir to his house to be a punishment sent by God
for his youthful imprudence in marrying secretly, and in spite of the
curse he oft bewails his childlessness. Now, Primrose, our gallant
feat is accomplished, and though my poor back doth verily ache to
distraction, yet I am glad I have done the deed. How good is the
daylight! Come, child, we will repair to our chambers, and remove
these dust-stained robes, and rest our weary frames awhile ere we are
summoned to our evening meal."
It was with great joy that Jack the boatman welcomed his
foster-child, on the following day, once more to her riverside home.
Tiny indeed it seemed to Primrose, after her week's stay within the
spacious old castle, yet her small apartments were so filled with
marks of Jack's love and thought for her every want, that she lay
down to rest, when night came, full of content, and feeling a sweet
sense of pleasure at being once more lulled to rest by the soft
plashing of the river, as it rippled over the pebbles below her
lattice. Much she had recounted to Jack ere they had sought their
rest, and passionately had he clasped her to his breast, when she had
told him of her visit to the bottomless well, thanking God from his
heart for having given him so sweet a flower in place of the tender
blossom so ruthlessly destroyed long years ago! And Primrose, as she
nestled in his arms, felt that whatever might lie before her in the
future, no life could surely be dearer than the years of happy
childhood spent with her tender guardian in the beautiful Gwynnon
Valley, where every bird that sang, and every blossom that blew in
spring, had whispered thoughts of love and beauty in her ear, and
lifted up her soul to God.
* * * * * * *
The talked-of Midsummer Eve excursion to the Craig Aran Pool was not
destined to take place the following summer after all, for in the
spring of that year Sir Ivor's health gave way, and the whole of that
year and the following were spent by himself and his wife abroad; and
it was not until the month of April in the year when Primrose reached
her twentieth birthday that they returned to Caer Caradoc, and once
more took up their abode in their ancient stronghold. Primrose in
the meantime had also spent another winter abroad with Lady Bryn
Afon, and so the years sped away towards the looked-for yet dreaded
time of her coming of age, but one more year hence.