Is a room not very large, upon the upper floor but one of the Duke of
Norfolk's palace in Norwich, sat Robert Woodhall by the side of a
table on which were placed two large wax tapers. His hat had been
thrown upon the ground at some distance; his sword and sword-belt lay
upon the table; his head was bent forward as he reclined in the chair,
and his left foot was thrown listlessly over the right.
I have described his features as good, though the expression of his
face was unprepossessing, and there was now on it a thoughtful look,
slightly varying from time to time, as if he were revolving some
subject of much interest, or laying out some plan upon which much
depended. Now a frown would gather on his brow; and now the frown
would be chased by a smile; and now the smile would give place to a
scornful curl of the lip, as if he were mentally sneering at some one
present to his thoughts.
"Ay, Master Ralph!" he muttered, between his teeth, "we will fit you
with something;" and then again he fell into silence. A moment or two
after he muttered in the same tone, "Harry's a fool! He's as hot as
pepper, though, when put up, and one can make something of that,
perhaps."
Once more a moment or two passed without his saying any thing, and
then came the words. "Yes, it must be that way if he has been
tampering with Margaret's heart, and is now half won away from her by
this bright Hortensia. Demme, it might be my game to let him win the
young baroness, and make sure if Mistress Margaret myself. She is very
handsome--would show well; and then her mother's fortune, that is all
her own at once. No--zounds! I will not play that game; for, though I
might win the stakes, yet he would carry off more still; and, by ----,
he shall not triumph. My mother told me to avoid him through life; for
that, if a struggle came between us, he might _throw me_: that was her
word. Now we have run against each other, and the struggle must come.
But we will see, mother mine which will throw the other. He may have
the strength, but I have the trick. What the fiend can be keeping that
lad? he has had time enough to learn the whole history of every body
in the house."
Once more he relapsed into silence; but if he were waiting for any
one, he had full a quarter of an hour to remain in expectation. At the
end of that time a tall, powerful, but agile fellow, in the garb of a
servant, entered the room, and with a sort of tip-toe, sliding, and
noiseless step, approached the back of the young gentleman's chair.
There standing he spoke over his shoulder, saying, "I have plenty of
news for you, sir."
"You have had time enough to get it," replied Robert Woodhall,
sharply; "speak out, and be quick."
"This cousin of yours is not here alone, as you thought, sir," said
the man; "he has got a servant with him, and who do you think that
servant is?"
"Nay, I know not, and what matters it?" rejoined his master; "though
where the beggarly animal picked up a servant, or got money to keep
him, I can not divine."
"He is none other, sir, but our old friend Gaunt Stilling," said the
servant, by those few words causing his young master to start upon his
feet with a look of vindictive fierceness which would have done honor
to a tragedy-villain. The next instant, however, he sat down again
with a laugh, saying, "That is impossible, you fool! That scoundrel
Stilling went away with my pretty Kate, to take her out of my reach. I
will find her, though. I heard the whole plan, and set three men to
belabor him on the road, and bring her back. They failed in the
latter, for she had gone on with her old fool of a father; but they
succeeded in the former part of the business--at least they swore so,
and if they cheated me, I will trounce them. It is impossible, I tell
you. The men did overtake him, and one of them got a sharp poke in the
shoulder from a companion of his. I saw the wound myself; and it was
not such a scratch as a man might give himself, for the sake of a
little bloody evidence to support a lie. What you tell me is
impossible, I say."
"It is quite true, sir," said the man, in a soft, insinuating tone; "I
will tell you all about it; but let me just say, in the mean time,
sir, that if you had but condescended to trust me in the matter of the
young lady, Mistress Kate, I would have had her back for you, and snug
in the little cottage, within a single day."
"I never trust any body too much," replied Robert Woodhall, in a surly
tone. "How the devil did you know any thing about the cottage?"
"Oh, I know every thing that goes on, sir," answered the servant, with
a slight touch of self-sufficient confidence in his tone; "I believe
you would find it better to trust one than many."
"Come, come, leave your preaching," cried Robert Woodhall,
interrupting him sharply; "I do not desire to be schooled by such as
you. You say this tale you tell me is true; I say it it impossible.
Now make these two meet."
"Why, sir, you have been misinformed," replied the man. "Gaunt did not
go with his sister, but the old man did. Gaunt stayed to go along, as
servant, with your poor cousin Ralph; and it was Mr. Woodhall who slit
Jack Naseby's arm. They had not much time to belabor Master Gaunt
either, for they took to their heels and ran as soon as his master
came to his rescue."
"Gaunt Stilling turned his servant?" said Robert Woodhall, in a tone
of doubt and surprise; "I can not believe it, Roger. He is as proud as
a prince, demme; he would be no man's servant."
"Oh, there are ways of taming pride, sir," answered the man. "It would
not surprise me if you were to find means to tame the pride of both
brother and sister."
"What is it you mean?" demanded his master, sternly. "Zounds! sir, do
not trifle with me, or you shall suffer for it. Give me some connected
account at once. Tell me what you have heard, and as you heard it."
"Well, sir, well," replied Roger, "I have both seen and heard. But, to
give you a connected account, as you say: after I left you I went into
the still-room, and pretended to have a defluxion which required some
herb water. I soon got into conversation with the still-room maid, and
then went with her to talk with the young ladies of the third table. I
there heard that Mr. Ralph Woodhall had a servant with him who called
himself Jack Tuckett, and that the said Jack had gone, or been sent by
his master, on some expedition on horseback four or five days ago. Now
I think I know every man's name within forty miles of Coldenham
tolerably well, but I did not recollect such a person as Jack Tuckett
among all my acquaintance. It sounds like a false name, too, sir; and
so I determined I would go away to the duke's chamberlain and find out
more. So, when I got to the chamberlain's office, I took off my hat,
and bowed low, and the old gentleman said, with a grand air, 'What do
you want, my man?' To which I replied, humbly, below my breath, 'My
master ordered me to see that his name was rightly put down in the
books, for there are more gentlemen than one who may be marked R.
Woodhall.'"
"Come, be not so particular," cried his master, whose oaths and
expletives shall be omitted for the future, or supplied by the
reader's imagination rather than my pen. "Come to the point, sir."
"Well, sir, the point was that I saw the books," replied the worthy
Roger, "and there I saw written Mr. Ralph Woodhall, and Gaunt
Stilling, his man, with date and designation."
"It is impossible!" cried Robert Woodhall, in a tone of doubt rather
than negation. "Why, but a few days ago he was bearding my mother like
a lion--and it needs no less to beard her; and now, a servant to this
poor, miserable cousin of mine, who has hardly money enough to keep
himself in clean linen!"
"Well, sir, I was surprised too," replied the man, "though it must be
a tough joke that surprises me; but just as I was crossing the stable
yard, who should I see but Gaunt Stilling himself getting off that
very good brown horse he rides, and leading him right into the
stables. It was dark enough there, and I kept out of the way; but he
caught sight of me, and all the menservants being busy in the house,
he hallooed to me, 'Good friend, just hold my beast a minute, while I
go in and get a lantern to look for the rack comb and brushes!' But I
answered, in the voice of a Blunderbore, 'I'm no servant of the house;
hold the beast yourself.' He gave me a benediction, tied his horse to
the manger the best way he could, and away for a light. Then it, just
came across me that I might find something out by a little feeling. So
I went into the stable, missed a kick from a skittish mare, and,
creeping up by the side of the new-come beast, who was as dull as a
long journey could make him, I ran my hand over the saddle and its
adjuncts. I found a pair of bags with padlocks on them, which there
was no time to pick; and I found two horse-pistols at the saddle-bow,
out of which it was not worth while to take the bullets; and I found a
horseman's cloak, good broad-cloth enough it seemed to the feel, but
it would not do to take it bodily, for people ask after their cloaks
sometimes. I could not help feeling it, however, for it was so soft
and good--ten times as soft as my lady gives her people--and as I felt
it here and felt it there, I felt something crackle like paper.
'Here's a pocket,' said I; and I soon found it; and, gently
insinuating my hand, I found these papers, which I brought incontinent
to you."
Robert Woodhall took them, and looked at the first, which was a
somewhat crumpled document, written on coarse paper, and seemingly a
bill. He threw it down on the floor with a contemptuous look, which
the servant immediately remarked and commented on.
"The next is more to the purpose, sir," he said.
"What! then you have examined them!" exclaimed his master, turning
sharply upon him.
But Roger was not to be daunted easily; and he replied, with the
utmost coolness, "Certainly, sir; I could not tell there might not be
something immoral or irreligious in them, and I could not venture to
bring you ribaldry."
His master laughed coarsely, and turned the paper, which was an open
letter, till he could see the address. It was written in a very
tolerable female hand, and was, in effect:
"To Master R. Woodhall.
"These from--"
Here the writer seemed to have been interrupted, for the writing broke
short off.
Without ceremony, Robert Woodhall began to unfold the letter; but his
servant observed, in a quiet tone, "I do not know, sir, whether it is
for Mr. Ralph or you. That is a question. There is nothing in the
letter to show--"
"What! then you have read it all, you infernal scoundrel!" exclaimed
his master.
"Certainly, sir," replied the man, "every word."
"Then, by ----, I will--" cried Robert, with an angry look; but there
he stopped, and, spreading out the sheet, read as follows:
"I am here in bondage, dearest love; if you do but love me half as
much as you have sworn, come and deliver me. My father nor brother do
not know all, or nearly all; but you know that the truth can not long
be concealed. I am ready to fly with you, as you used to ask me, to
the world's end: only come--and come as fast as possible. There is
nothing to stop us here. Come, then, to your unhappy KATE
STILLING."
The place from which the letter was dated was A small town in
Dorsetshire, and the date itself three days before.
Robert Woodhall smiled as he mused over those few lines, and then he
turned to the address again, and seemed to consider it attentively,
muttering, "Master R. Woodhall."
"You see, sir," said his servant, "one can not tell whether it is for
you or your cousin, Master Ralph."
"What the devil do you mean?" cried his master, fixing his eyes
eagerly upon him.
"Why simply, sir," replied the man, "that it would make a desperate
good handle against him if it fell into the hands of the other."
"I think I understand you, Roger," said his master, in a much more
placable tone; "but Ralph does not even know my fair Kate."
"We can not tell that, sir," answered the servant; "he was over at
Coldenham lately."
"Only one day," replied Robert, "and soon got his answer from my
mother."
"He was in the church with old Stilling, and in old Stilling's house,"
said the man; "that I know for sure."
"Was he?" exclaimed Robert, in a tone of much surprise; but, after a
moment's thought, he added, "Ay, ay, to hire this young vagabond for a
servant. But I understand what you mean, and perhaps may act upon it."
"Only be so good as to remember, sir," replied Roger, "that the letter
was brought by his own servant over here, after being sent away, no
one knows where, for several days; and the letter R may stand for
Ralph as well as for Robert--or Roger either, for that matter."
His master laughed: "Would you make me jealous of Kate?" he said. "No,
no, Roger, I understand all this clearly. Gaunt Stilling has gone over
to see her while his master was absent with the duke. He has caught
her writing this letter, and brought it away by force. Do you not see
how the address breaks off? Perhaps he wishes to make use of it
against me when he finds occasion; for my lady mother threatened me
highly if I continued to persecute these people, as she called it.
Luckily, the letter fell into good hands."
"Do you not think, sir, that those hands deserve some little lining?"
asked the man, with a grin.
"They do--they do," replied Robert; "I am marvelous poor just now; but
there is a guinea for you. You shall have more some day soon, if you
continue to serve me as well. Now go and contrive to get my cousin Hal
to come and speak with me as soon as possible. This letter, perhaps,
may serve me much in one way; but I have another matter in hand which
will need quick attention."
The man bowed low and retired, but he expressed no thanks for the
present he had received; and when he had reached the other side of the
door, he tossed up the piece of coin with a contemptuous air, saying,
"A guinea!"