"It is hopeless," said the Duke of Norfolk, sadly, as he stood by the
side of the bed on which they had laid the body of Henry Woodhall, and
let the cold hand, which he had taken in his own, sink slowly down by
the dead man's side.
"Quite hopeless, I fear, your grace," replied a surgeon, who stood on
the other side. "The sword, I suspect, has passed right through his
heart."
"Did not some one say that Mr. Robert Woodhall is still in the house?"
inquired the duke; "why is he not here? Has any one told him?"
"He knows it, your grace," answered one of his servants, who had aided
to bear in the body; "his own servant went up to inform him; I saw him
pass that way in haste."
"Has any one seen Mr. Ralph Woodhall?" inquired the duke; but no one
replied; and he sent up to Ralph's room to ascertain if he had
returned.
In a moment or two the messenger appeared again, saying, "He is not
there, your grace. His servant says that he went away this morning
with Lady Danvers, and he has not yet returned."
The duke mused thoughtfully, and then made inquiries as to whether the
wilderness and the grounds adjacent had been searched, observing, at
the same time, "This poor youth has evidently fallen in a duel, for
when he went away this morning he concealed his intention of coming
back. Nevertheless, it is right we should know his opponent, that we
may ascertain if the circumstances of the combat were all fair."
"The poor young gentleman's servant is below, your grace," said the
chamberlain, "but I would not let him come up till I had your
commands."
"Bring him here--bring him hither at once," said the duke; "perhaps he
can throw some light on this sad affair."
The man was immediately brought into the room, a tall, stout,
fresh-colored, good-looking fellow; but he turned ashy pale when his
eye fell upon the breathless form of his master; and, without noticing
any one in the room, he advanced to the bedside, while the tears rose
thick in his eyes, exclaiming, "Alas! alas! poor Master Henry! a
better gentleman did not live. Little did I think, when you told me to
give the letter early to-morrow, what you were going to do to-night,
or I would have stopped it one way or another. But your father will
have vengeance upon him who killed you, if it cost him his heart's
blood, or I don't know him."
"Of what letter do you speak, my good friend?" asked the duke; "is it
one from this poor young gentleman to his father?"
"No, your grace," replied the man, drawing forth a letter from his
pocket, but apparently hesitating as to whether he should deliver it,
"I am to give it to your grace to-morrow."
"Give it to me," said the duke, in a tone of authority; "no time like
the present;" and, taking the letter, he opened it at once. The
contents were as follows:
"MY LORD DUKE,
"A quarrel having taken place between myself and my cousin, Mr. Ralph
Woodhall, which we are to void to-night, in the manner which befits
gentlemen of our station, and as the issue of such encounters is
always uncertain, I write you these few lines, to be delivered in case
matters should go unfavorably with myself. Although I think he has
behaved ill in some affairs of domestic concern, and has certainly
caused great pain and uneasiness in my family, for which I have
demanded satisfaction this night, I hold Ralph to be a man of honor;
and I beg to inform you that the challenge was given by myself, in
such terms that he could not refuse to accept it; that I appointed the
meeting to take place by moonlight, in order to avoid the eyes which I
had reason to believe were upon us; and that it was at my express
desire that no witnesses or seconds were present. I say this, lest,
from the above circumstances, some undeserved imputation should fall
upon the character of my cousin. From my knowledge of him, during many
years, you may rest assured, whatever is the result, that all has
passed honorably and fairly between us; and, so long as I have life, I
beg you, my lord duke, to believe me, your grace's most faithful and
obedient servant, HENRY WOODHALL."
The duke mused much over this letter, and hesitated, in some degree,
how he should act. He doubted not, from the warm and impetuous temper
of Lord Woodhall, that the servant's words would prove prophetic, and
that the old nobleman would suffer nothing to stand in the way of his
vengeance.
"I must have time for thought," he said to himself. "This youth,
Ralph, has given his fair guardian the slip, it seems. Well, I can not
blame him; I should most likely have done the same myself in his
circumstances. He should have stayed, however, to confront what he has
done--and yet, perhaps not. It is better as it is. His presence would
have been very embarrassing."
As he thus thought, with his eyes fixed upon the door, Robert Woodhall
suddenly entered the room, and the duke, though not a very acute man,
could not help remarking that a sudden change came upon the young
man's countenance even as he passed the threshold. The expression of
his face, at the moment he pushed the door open, was any thing but one
of dissatisfaction; there was even a faint smile upon his lip,
although his face was pale enough. But a look of deep sadness was
assumed in a moment; and, advancing to his noble host, he first
apologized, in good set form, for not having come sooner, alleging
that he had been partly undressed when the news arrived, which, the
reader knows, was false.
The duke replied by pointing to the corpse, and saying, somewhat
stiffly, "This is a sad sight, sir; I hope you have had no share in
urging this quarrel forward, and think it might have been better if
you had taken means to prevent its fatal termination. By good advice,
such matters are sometimes obviated."
"Ah! poor Henry!" cried Robert, with a look at the dead body, and a
shudder, which was natural enough; "I do assure your grace that I had
nothing to do with this squabble at all. Henry wrote the challenge
with his own hand; I did not even bear it to my cousin Ralph; and
surely a man of honor like yourself would not have me betray a secret
intrusted in full confidence to my keeping."
"And yet," said the duke, sternly, "at the very moment when your two
near relations were about to shed each other's blood, you were
undressing to go to bed!"
Robert colored whether he would or not; but he excused himself by
another lie.
"I did not know the precise hour, my lord duke," he answered; "Henry
only gave me half his confidence. He would not even leave a letter,
which he wrote to your grace, to my care. He acted in every thing for
himself."
"Perhaps he did right," replied the duke, somewhat bitterly, for there
was that in the young man's conduct and demeanor which did not please
him--nay, which excited suspicions, just in themselves, though not
very definite.
"I think it will be better, Mr. Woodhall." he continued, "for you to
mount on horseback, as early as may be to-morrow morning, and break
the tidings of this unfortunate affair to poor Lord Woodhall."
"I will go at once, my lord duke," replied Robert.
"That is needless," replied the duke, in a grave, melancholy tone;
"you would but break in upon his rest. Do not rob an aged man of one
night of calm repose that he can enjoy; do not add more hours of
bitterness to the many bitter hours he must endure. I will write to
him myself, by your hands, and you shall have the letter by the gray
of the dawn to-morrow. That will be time enough."
"But will your grace take no means to cause the apprehension of the
murderer?" demanded Robert Woodhall, with a look of well-assumed
surprise.
"Murderer!" said the duke; "do you mean your cousin, sir?"
"He was my cousin, sir," replied Robert, a good deal nettled by the
duke's tone, "but I shall regard him as my cousin no longer; and a man
who drives another by his bad conduct to call him to the field, and
then slays him, I can only look upon as a murderer, be he my cousin or
not."
"That dead hand there," said the duke, pointing to the corpse, "wrote,
while yet in life, a full exculpation of his adversary's conduct in
the affair of the duel, at least. Ralph Woodhall was only acting, it
would seem, as any man of honor would have acted, and those who best
deserve the name of murderers are they who urge on petty quarrels to a
fatal result."
"Your grace's opinion seems harsh of me," said Robert Woodhall, with
feelings of rage he could hardly repress.
"I have not forgotten," replied the Duke of Norfolk, "that the first
quarrel last night was between yourself and your cousin Ralph. What
may have been your conduct since I do not pretend to say; but certain
I am, that until Henry Woodhall quitted the supper-table, he and his
cousin were upon the most friendly terms, and I am not aware that they
met afterward until this last fatal occasion."
Thus saying, he turned and left the room, giving some necessary
directions to his servants as he descended the stairs.
Robert Woodhall remained standing at the foot of the bed, with his
eyes gloomily fixed upon the floor. Several of the attendants still
continued in the room; but they all drew back from the young gentleman
with a feeling of dislike and suspicion, for which they might have
found it difficult to assign a cause, though undoubtedly the duke's
words gave direction to their thoughts. There are instincts, however,
in the human breast; and those instincts, probably, had some share in
the feelings of the men who surrounded Robert Woodhall.
He remained there, I have said, with his eyes fixed gloomily upon the
floor--not upon the corpse; but he was roused from his revery by the
voice of the surgeon, who still stood by the bedside, and who said,
"Mr. Woodhall, will you come here for a moment?"
Robert approached him slowly, and then the old man said, in a peculiar
tone, "Will you put your hand upon the breast of your poor cousin?"
"No," cried Robert Woodhall, almost fiercely; and, turning sharply on
his heel, he quitted the room.
About two hours after the events I have just related, the Duke of
Norfolk was seated in his own fine library, with lights and papers
before him, but quite alone. The door opened, and his chamberlain
appeared, saying, "Here is the young man, your grace; he had not gone
to bed."
The chamberlain had been followed into the room by Gaunt Stilling,
whose large, massive brow was very heavy, as if with deep grief. The
duke waved his hand to the chamberlain, and that officer withdrew to
the other side of the door, keeping watch there, but not approaching
too close.
"Your master has not returned yet, I hear," said the duke, fixing his
eyes upon Stilling's face.
"He has not, my lord duke," replied the other, gravely.
"This is a serious affair," said the duke; "and I fear that the
consequences may be very serious to your master. Lord Woodhall is a
man of much influence at court, and of a warm and vehement temper.
This young gentleman who has been killed was the general favorite."
"And well he deserved to be so!" cried Gaunt Stilling, warmly; "he was
not perfect--no man is; but, as people of his rank go, there were few
like him. Had it been his cousin Robert, who would have cared? but
Fate seems to make mistakes sometimes, as well as others. The good are
taken and the bad are left."
The duke listened quietly to this outburst of feeling, and then
inquired if the man thought he could tell where his master was to be
found.
"I think I can find him, your grace," replied Gaunt Stilling; "but I
will not say where, if any evil is to come of it."
"I do not wish to know where," answered the Duke of Norfolk. "If you
can find him, well. Bear him this letter from me; and it will be as
well to take with you as much of his baggage as you can, for I think
it will be inexpedient for him to return hither for some time, till
this storm has blown by. I will find means to befriend him during his
absence."
"What am I to do with the rest of the baggage, my lord duke?" asked
Gaunt Stilling; "there is a good deal more than a horse-load."
"There is a carrier crossing the country, I think, to-morrow," the
duke replied; "the chamberlain will give you surer information. You
can send the superfluous baggage by him to any place you like,
northward or westward--perhaps it would be better to send it to his
father's house; but my people will see it expedited, if you will give
it into their charge."
Gaunt Stilling bowed, took the packet which the duke held in his hand,
and which deserved that epithet rather than the name of letter, and
withdrew in silence. But he did not set out immediately. An hour was
spent in packing up the baggage of his master, and another hour in
writing a long letter, which, when finished and sealed, he placed in
another half sheet of paper, on the inner side of which he wrote a few
lines to his father, and put old Stilling's address, at Coldenham,
upon the whole. This, together with the larger trunk-mails, he
delivered to the duke's night porter, to be forwarded by the
chamberlain on the following day; and then, after making some
inquiries as to the shortest roads, he placed the two pair of
saddle-bags upon his horse, and set out in the same direction which
had been taken by his master and Lady Danvers on the preceding
morning.
It was by this time nearly four o'clock, and until daylight Stilling
rode as fast as he could go, except where, every now and then, he met
with a corner, or a turning of which he did not feel very sure. When
daylight did break, and the laborers began to trudge forth into the
fields, he found that he had gone somewhat out of his way, which
obliged him to retrace his steps for nearly a couple of miles. He then
proceeded more cautiously, but contrived to reach the little town
where Lady Danvers was a few minutes before nine. At the inn he asked
eagerly for his master, having some fear, indeed, that Ralph might
have passed him while he had been wandering wide of the proper track.
The reply, however, satisfied him; for the landlord stated that the
young gentleman, Mr. Woodhall, had that moment gone down to the
justice room, with all the Duke of Norfolk's servants. Thither
Stilling followed him, as soon as he had given his horse into the
hands of the hostler, and placed his bags in security. Round the door
there was a small crowd, as usual; but the stout young fellow elbowed
his way in, and arrived just at the moment when the fat magistrate in
the chair was announcing the decision of the bench.
"There is no pretense whatever," said the justice, "at least such is
the opinion of myself and my brethren, for detaining Mr. Ralph
Woodhall even for an hour. It is clearly shown, by a multitude of
witnesses, that he endeavored to calm the riot rather than to excite
it, and that the brutal conduct of the constable Doggett was the sole
cause of any commotion; for which brutal conduct we have determined to
reprimand the said Doggett, and he is reprimanded accordingly. Mr.
Woodhall, you are at liberty, and we hope that your detention may not
prove inconvenient."
Ralph was about to make some reply, but Stilling, stepping forward,
placed the packet in his hand, saying, "From his grace of Norfolk,
sir--in haste."
Ralph took it, and was breaking the seal, when Gaunt Stilling
whispered, "You had better read it in private, sir, for there is
matter of much moment in it."
Hurrying out of the justice roam, Ralph returned to the inn, sought
his own chamber, and opened the packet.
It contained several sealed letters, addressed to different gentlemen
in Dorsetshire and Somersetshire, and for himself a brief note to the
following effect:
"MY YOUNG FRIEND,
"After finishing the inclosed, I have but a moment to write to you,
but it is absolutely necessary for your safety, for your present
comfort, and your future happiness, that you should leave this part of
the country as speedily as possible. The anger of Lord Woodhall, when
all is made known to him, will be excited, as you may well suppose, to
the very highest pitch of fury. He has immense influence at court, and
can destroy you. I am not sure that it would not be better and safer
for you to betake yourself to Holland for a time; in which idea I have
inclosed for you a letter for a gentleman at the Hague, who will show
you kindness.
"You may trust upon my doing all I can for you during your absence,
both out of consideration for yourself and our friend Moraber.
"You can consult Lady Danvers in the West as to the best means of
keeping yourself concealed till this storm has blown by; but, whatever
you may think of the circumstances in which you are placed, believe
that my judgment is best, and take the advice of your sincere friend,
"NORFOLK."
Ralph gazed at the letter for several minutes with a pale cheek and
anxious eye but then some one knocked at his door, and the voice of
one of Lady Danvers's servants said, "My lady, sir, wishes to speak
with you immediately."
"I will come in a moment," replied Ralph; and, folding up the Duke of
Norfolk's letter once more, he proceeded with it in his hand to
Hortensia's apartments.