We left Ralph Woodhall proceeding toward the apartments of Hortensia
Danvers with the Duke of Norfolk's letter in his hand. He seemed
puzzled and confused, but his determination was soon taken. "I might
have foreseen this," he said to himself; "it could not be long
concealed; and I must bear my destiny. But I will not encounter the
good old lord with any attempt at justification. The Duke of Norfolk
is perhaps right: it would be better for me to be absent for a time,
seeking fortune in the West, or perhaps in Holland, till the first
burst of wrath has passed. I can trust to Margaret's love."
With these thoughts he entered the sitting-room of Lady Danvers, where
he found her standing by a table, dressed for her journey, and looking
toward the door, as if anxious for his coming.
"Well, they have set you free," she said; "but I have been in some
fear about you, not that you would not appear at the time, if you
could, but that you might not be able. I sent to ask you to speak with
me last night, but, to my surprise, found you were absent."
She spoke with a peculiar emphasis, and Ralph replied, in a faint,
melancholy tone, "I was absent for some hours, Lady Danvers--how
employed, I may find another opportunity of telling you. At present,
let me show you this letter from the Duke of Norfolk. I have,
unfortunately, incurred the anger of my noble relation, Lord Woodhall;
he is a good man, but violent to an exceeding degree when excited; and
the duke advises me strongly to hurry away into the West till I can
take ship for Holland. There is his letter; you can read what he
says."
"No need--no need," replied Lady Danvers, putting the letter aside; "I
know it all--all that has happened. Poor young man! Well may you speak
in so sad a tone, Mr. Woodhall. But the duke is right. There is no
resource for you but to keep in retirement for a time, till this has
passed over. Depend upon it, Lord Woodhall will move heaven and earth
to ruin you. To the West? I am going to the West; but my course will
be too slow; you must set off instantly."
"So I propose," replied Ralph, "though to what exact spot I shall turn
my steps I do not exactly know; that is a part of the country I am
unacquainted with."
"I will decide it for you," replied Hortensia; "let it be Danvers's
New Church. Stay! let me give you a letter to my steward, who is the
man of all others to aid you, and to take means for insuring your
safety."
"Nay, dear Lady Danvers," replied Ralph, "I am under no such great
apprehension as you seem to think; I have done nothing that any man of
heart would not have done, or that any man of honor might not have
done. I would fain, it is true, avoid all personal collision with Lord
Woodhall in his present state of rage; but for my personal safety I
have no fear; he is a man of too much honor to resent what has
occurred by any unworthy means."
"There is no knowing--there is no knowing," said Lady Danvers; "your
life is too precious to others--to your father, to be lightly risked.
Is your horse in a fit state to carry you? If not, take one from my
servants; they are well mounted, and their beasts must be quite fresh
by this time."
"Oh, mine is quite fit and strong," replied Ralph; "the little journey
he has had can have had but little effect upon so strong and tried an
animal."
"Well, I will write the letter," replied Lady Danvers, with the same
eager and quick manner in which she had hitherto been speaking. "You
go and order your servant, who is arrived. I am told, to get all
things ready. Alice! Alice! bring me back the ink and paper."
Ralph hastened to follow her suggestion, and found Gaunt Stilling in
somewhat sharp conversation with a man considerably taller than
himself, but who seemed to stand in considerable awe of him.
"Get you back to Norwich, Master Roger," said Stilling, in a more
angry tone than Ralph had ever heard him use before. "If I find you
watching our movements, I will break every bone in your skin, and take
that as an installment of what your master owes me."
"I must wait till I have baited my horse, Master Stilling," replied
the servant.
"I should like to know what the devil brought you here," cried the
other; but he was interrupted by the call of his master, and only
paused to add, "Mind what I have said; I am not one to be trifled
with, as you ought to know by this time."
Ralph gave his orders rapidly, then returned to his own room for a few
moments, and then once more sought Hortensia for the letter she had
promised. It was written, sealed, and addressed to "Master William
Drayton, Danvers's New Church, by Harstock, Dorset."
She placed it in Ralph's hands, gazing at him with a look of deep and
melancholy interest. There was also an air of hesitation about her as
she asked, "Is all ready?"
"I dare say it is by this time," replied Ralph. "Accept my best
thanks, dear Lady Danvers, for all the kind interest you have taken in
me, especially in these painful circumstances in which I am placed."
She waved her hand almost impatiently, saying, "Not a word--not a
word, my good friend; but there is one thing more I wish to say--"
Again she hesitated, but then added quickly, and in a tone of kindly
feeling, "Ralph, I look upon you as a relation--I can not regard your
mother's son in any other light; you came away with me hastily
yesterday; you had no time to provide funds for a long journey--No
false delicacy between you and me."
Ralph took her hand and raised it to his lips, and as he did so he
thought that it trembled very much. "Thanks--a thousand thanks," he
said; "and I would accept your kind offer as frankly as it is made,
but I have quite enough here, Lady Danvers; my servant has brought a
large part of my baggage with him, and I have there all the little
store which was to last me for six months."
"Well, well--go, then," she said; "do not delay a moment, for I am
apprehensive till you are out of the old lord's reach. We shall meet
again, my friend, and talk over all these details more at leisure. At
present, nothing is to be done but to part as soon as possible."
Again Ralph kissed her hand, which was beautiful enough; though, to
say truth, her lip was the more tempting of the two. He was soon in
the stable-yard, and found his horse saddled and the baggage all
arranged. In another moment he was riding out under the archway of the
inn, and remarked a face gazing from a little window at the side,
which commanded a view both of the stable-yard and of the street.
Gaunt Stilling shook his fist at it as they passed, and, while his
master paused to say a few words to the Duke of Norfolk's servants who
were gathered round the gate, laid his finger significantly on the
hilt of a good strong sword, which by this time he had added to his
traveling equipage. Ralph was then turning his horse to the right
hand, in the direction of the western road; but Gaunt Stilling rode up
to his side, saying, in a low voice, "This way, sir; we are watched,
and must give them the slip. I can find the way, I think, by the back
lanes, as they have directed me. After we get past Ely, I know every
rood of the road for a hundred miles."
Ralph readily followed his suggestion, but inquired, after riding a
few yards, "Who is watching us? One of Lord Woodhall's people?"
"No!" replied Stilling, in his quaint, bluff way; "knave Robert's
knave Roger."
"I wish to heaven it was his master instead," said Ralph, with a quick
glow of the cheek and flash of the eye.
"Ay, so do I," answered Gaunt Stilling, gloomily; "but he always
contrives to put some one else in his place when that place is a
dangerous one. Every man has his time, however, and his is waiting for
him."
He then relapsed into silence, and they pursued their way without
interruption. Nothing remarkable occurred upon the road throughout the
whole journey, though, as the reader knows, it led them across nearly
the widest part of Great Britain. Ralph himself was silent and
melancholy, and many painful considerations pressed upon his mind,
withdrawing it from that enjoyment of changing scene and rapid motion
which a young and ardent heart like his might well have experienced in
traversing the beautiful counties which lie between Norfolk and
Dorsetshire. His thoughts were almost entirely of Margaret. He saw
little--he observed little--and conversation he had none; for Gaunt
Stilling, though evidently a man superior, by education, to his class,
and who had received the education of the world as well as of books,
was taciturn and gloomy. He had never spoken much, and what he had
said was generally brief and blunt; but now he hardly uttered a word,
and remained usually totally apart from all other servants or society
of any kind in the inns where they chanced to stop on the road. Ralph
remarked, too, that when his bill was brought to him at any of these
places, no charge was ever made for his servant or his servant's
horse; and the strange circumstances in which the man had been placed
with him came back, from time to time, upon his mind with a feeling
not altogether agreeable. That he had been useful, serviceable, ay,
and zealous in his service, Ralph fully felt; but it was unpleasant to
him to have such gratuitous attendance, especially where it involved
no light expense to the person rendering it. He determined he would
have some explanations upon this subject with Gaunt Stilling; but the
man's taciturnity, his own busy thoughts, and the rapidity with which
they passed from place to place, made him delay the execution of his
intention till they reached the place of their temporary sojourn.
Upon the frontiers of Somersetshire and Dorsetshire, Gaunt Stilling
seemed to enter upon a well-known land. He had before displayed a very
good knowledge of the country lying between the Isle of Ely and the
Mendip Hills--an extent sufficient to try his geographical
information--but now not a single lane or by-road was unknown to him.
He was aware where comfortable inns could be found in the most remote
parts of the country--not at that time well cultivated or largely
populated; and Ralph could not help thinking that, if it were really
necessary for him to play at hide and seek at all--which he began to
doubt--he could not have a better instructor in the game than his good
companion.
Still, however, Gaunt Stilling maintained the same dull silence;
answered in monosyllables, though civilly, and never exceeded above
two or three words except once, when, crossing the beautiful Mendip
Hills, he said, "I have brought you forty miles out of the way, sir,
not for the sake of giving you that fine view, but for the purpose of
avoiding the lands of old Lady Coldenham. I should be soon known
there; and you would be found out through me. Then the news would fly
across the country as rapidly as possible."
"I really do not see the need of such extreme precaution," replied
Ralph, musing.
"Don't you, sir?" said Gaunt Stilling, and there the conversation
dropped; for Ralph did not think it needful to enter into the
particulars of his situation with his taciturn servant, and knew not
how far the facts might have been bruited abroad in the household of
the Duke of Norfolk.
At length, one afternoon, about a couple of hours before sunset, they
passed through a long, deep lane, sunk beneath the level of the
neighboring fields, and overhung by tall and shady trees in the full
richness of their summer foliage. Even at those spots where the head
of a horseman rose above the bank, no view of the country was to be
obtained; for rich orchards, already beginning to glow with their
blossoms, spread all along on either side for more than a mile. At the
end of a quarter of a mile's riding, the sunshine was seen streaming
up the end of the lane; and in a few minutes more Ralph stood upon the
verge of a gentle descent, where the eye ranged free along one of the
most beautiful valleys he ever beheld. A considerable portion of the
ground in front was laid out as a park, with sloping lawns, and large
ancient trees on both sides of a stream of some extent, which ran
rapidly, dashing and sparkling, down the dell. An old gray bridge,
too, was seen here and there along the course of the stream--even in
the wilder land, which spread forth beyond the limits of the park; and
on an elevated spot some two hundred yards from the river appeared a
large stone edifice, perhaps of the reign of Henry the Seventh or
Eighth, for it bore some of the characteristics of the best period of
Tudor architecture.
At the distance of about a bow-shot from the house, but within the
limits of the park, rose a beautiful church, from the bosom of a small
grove of trees. Not less than three centuries and a half before, it
might have deserved the name of New Church; for even if any architect
could have been found to imitate so perfectly the inimitable early
English architecture, the lichens and mosses, the hue of the stone,
and the crumbling of the antique moldings, would have clearly denoted
how long it had been constructed.
"There is Danvers's New Church, sir," said Gaunt Stilling; "but we
must take a little round to get to the gates."
"It seems a peaceful spot enough," said Ralph, in reply.
"Peaceful?" murmured Gaunt Stilling. "Is there such a thing as peace?"
In a few minutes more they had entered the park and were riding up to
the house, under the old stone gate-way of which were sitting a hale,
good-looking, well-dressed man, past the middle age, and an elderly
woman, with a young child reading a horn-book at their feet.
"That is Master Drayton, I take it," said Gaunt Stilling; and, riding
up, Ralph dismounted and presented Lady Danvers's letter.
"This is for me," said the man upon the steps, opening the letter; "I
suppose my lady will soon be coming."
At the same moment he unfolded the sheet, and fixed his eyes upon the
contents. They seemed to startle him; for although he said, as a sort
of comment while he read, "Of course--certainly--to be sure," his
broad brow was contracted, and his whole face assumed a hesitating
look.
"You are quite welcome, sir," he said, when he had done, "and I will
do the best I can for you. My lady's orders shall be obeyed to the
utmost of my power; but I can't resist the law, you know."
"Resist the law!" exclaimed Ralph; "surely Lady Danvers does not ask
you to do that! and there could be no necessity on my account."
"Well, sir, you know best," replied Mr. Drayton, "but I think it will
be best if you would just step into this room, and talk with me for a
moment;" and, opening the door of the house, he led the way to a small
ante-room off the great hall. When there, he said, after having closed
the door, "What I meant just now, sir, was merely that I would do
every thing, as in duty bound, to hide you; but that, if officers
should come to take you, I could not think myself justified in
resisting with a strong hand."
"Officers come to take me?" said Ralph, completely bewildered; "there
must be some mistake, my good sir. May I be permitted to look at Lady
Danvers's letter!"
"Oh, certainly, sir," replied the steward; "there is nothing that you
need not see;" and he placed the letter in Ralph's hand, who read as
follows:
"MASTER DRAYTON,
"This will be given into your hands by Mr. Ralph Woodhall, the son of
my poor mother's dearest friend, and consequently mine. You will show
him every attention in your power, and let him make use of Danvers's
New Church as if it were his own, providing suitably all things for
himself and his servant. It will be necessary to keep good watch
around the place, and not suffer him to be at all molested by any one,
as he has had the misfortune of killing in a duel his cousin, the son
of Lord Woodhall, who is highly incensed against him."
Ralph let the paper fall from his hand, and gazed upon Mr. Drayton
with a look of unmingled astonishment. "In the name of Heaven!" he
exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this? Henry Woodhall killed in a
duel! and by me! I can not believe my senses when I see such an
assertion under the hand of Lady Danvers. She must have been grossly
and terribly misled--but there must be some foundation for this;" and,
opening the door vehemently, he made his way to the outer porch, and
called aloud, "Stilling! Stilling!"
The man, who was leading the horses up and down, returned to the door,
and Ralph at once demanded, "What is this? Lady Danvers, in her letter
to Mr. Drayton here, declares that my cousin Henry has been killed in
a duel."
"Well, sir, did you not know it?" asked Stilling, in a cold tone.
"Know it!" exclaimed Ralph; "how in Heaven's name should I know it?
You never mentioned the subject to me during the whole course of the
journey."
"I thought it would be too painful a subject, sir," replied the man,
with a very peculiar look; "you had the Duke of Norfolk's letter."
"The duke never mentioned a word of it," said Ralph. "Good God! this
will drive me mad;" and, turning on his heel, he walked back into the
house, followed by Mr. Drayton, and, casting himself into a chair,
covered his eyes with his hands in an agony of grief and
consternation.
Gaunt Stilling tied the horses to an iron railing and followed him
quietly; and good Mr. Drayton, as much moved to attention and respect
toward the young gentleman by the agony he saw him suffer as by his
lady's letter, did all that he could think of to comfort and console
him. It was not much he could think of, it is true, for he was a man
of material thoughts and habits. He could tell the number of acres,
roods, and poles in every farm upon the estate, and how they should be
cultivated. He knew the condition and the wants of every laborer,
every tenant; and he tried his best to ameliorate the one, and to
diminish the other. But to deal with deep sorrow--to soothe an
intelligent mind and feeling heart, were tasks above or beyond his
scope. At best--and it was his only resource--he might try to divert
the thoughts of one afflicted from the causes of grief. He had done so
with many a mendicant at the hall door--for he was no harsh and cruel
deputy despot--and he tried at least to add comfort to gifts. He did
the same even now. He even teased Ralph about bed-rooms, and first and
second tables, and what he would require during his stay; till at
length he pressed him so hard upon these subjects, that Ralph rose and
followed him to the rooms he proposed to show him with a gloomy air
and heavy step, from which all the elasticity of youth seemed gone.
Gaunt Stilling looked after him with a hesitating, uncertain
expression of countenance, as if he did not know whether to follow him
or not. But, after a moment's consideration, he turned round, led the
horses to the stables, and after having given them, with some
directions, into the hands of a country lad whom he found there,
returned to the house and sought out his master, whom he found sitting
sorrowfully alone, Mr. Drayton having quitted him in order to make the
necessary preparations.
The moment Gaunt Stilling entered the room, Ralph motioned him to shut
the door, and said, "Now tell me more of this sad affair, Stilling. I
am calmer now; and though I do wish you had spoken to me on the
subject as we came hither, by which you would have stopped my journey
entirely, yet I dare say you were under the same mistake which it
seems has been made by others."
"Why, sir," replied the servant, in a tone of some feeling, "I saw you
very melancholy and sad, and, as the duke himself had written to you,
I naturally concluded that you were right well aware of all. You may
easily judge that, the death of Mr. Henry Woodhall was the subject of
talk with the whole of the duke's house; and when he had written to
you, I could not presume to speak to you on the subject without your
speaking to me."
"The duke's letter I must have misunderstood entirely," replied Ralph;
"fearful of wounding my feelings, it would seem, he wrote in vague
general terms of unfortunate events and unhappy circumstances. My
imagination, utterly ignorant of what had taken place, fixed upon
other events and circumstances--but all that matters not. Now I would
know the whole. It would seem that they attributed poor Henry's death
to me?"
"Yes, sir, every body thought so," replied Gaunt Stilling. "They said
that Mr. Woodhall had discovered that you and his sister were in love
with each other, contrary to the wishes of the family; that he had
challenged you, and that you had killed him."
"But you must have known better," said Ralph, somewhat sternly; and
the man's countenance fell, and his brow became clouded, as if the
tone of the master, whom he served gratuitously, had wounded his
pride.
Ralph went on, however, saying, "You should have contradicted it at
once, Stilling. The duke might be deceived; for he could not tell that
I had not returned secretly; but you must have known I never
re-entered my room from the time I quitted it in the morning."
"Yes, sir," replied Stilling, in a quiet tone; "but there was no need
of re-entering your room. You had a sword with you, and had but to
ride back, fight your adversary, and disappear."
"True--true," replied his master; "But did you really think I had done
so?"
Gaunt Stilling hesitated, but replied at length, "I certainly did not,
sir; but I was in no circumstances to speak my mind. Every thing,
indeed, seemed against your having done so, in my mind, till the
morning after."
"And what happened then to make you change your opinion?" asked Ralph.
"Why, I heard at the inn where Lady Danvers stopped," replied
Stilling, "that you had gone out about half past eight o'clock, and
had not been seen by any body for some hours. Now the duel took place
between ten and eleven; and, with a quick-going horse, you might
easily have got to Norwich within the time."
Ralph pressed his hand upon his brow, saying, as if in reply to some
question which had arisen in his own mind, "That explains it--that
explains it all. How Lady Danvers could have imagined that I had been
guilty of this act, I was at a loss to comprehend; but now I see it
all."
"Guilty! sir," said Gaunt Stilling, whose old soldier's habits made
him view such events in a very different light from that in which his
master regarded them; "no great guilt, I think, in killing a man in
fair and open combat, without advantage--especially when he was the
person to seek it."
"We may think differently," replied Ralph, "but this, at least, I will
tell you, Stilling, that if my hand had shed poor Henry's blood in
such a quarrel as this, I never should forgive myself to my dying day.
Leave me now, Stilling. You will be well taken care of here; and I
will send for you soon, to seek for any further information I may
want. At present, my mind is all in wild confusion; and I must try to
calm my thoughts, and decide upon what is to be done next. My first
impulse is to set off at once for London, to clear myself of this
deed."
"Better give the horses some rest, sir," said Gaunt Stilling; "we have
come at a rattling pace; and they won't do much more just at present.
Besides, it would be well to think whether you could clear yourself so
easily as to prevent disagreeable consequences. Four or five months'
imprisonment, waiting for trial, is no very agreeable thing, and the
very fact of your running away here in such haste would require a good
deal of explanation, for other people might not understand it quite as
well as you do yourself."
Ralph looked at him earnestly, and asked, in a low, deep voice, "You
surely do not believe me guilty still?"
"Not in the least, sir," replied the man, frankly. "I am quite sure
you are not; and I can even give a guess, and a pretty shrewd one, as
to what was the mistake which made you follow the duke's advice so
readily; but all I think, is, that other people may not understand the
matter so easily, and that, in order to clear yourself, in a hurry, of
this accusation, you might be forced to explain other matters, which
might be unpleasant for you to touch upon."
"I will think over it--I will think over it," replied Ralph; and Gaunt
Stilling, seeing him fall into a deep revery, quietly left the room.