"Ha! Ha! ha!" cried Hargood, with a dry, mocking laugh, "So the dead
have come to life again! Stand, sir, and give an account of yourself.
Lady, you are a mighty skilful plotter, but we have doubled upon you,
and I will not quit this house till I find this bird's nest."
"Run round, Annie," whispered Lady Margaret to her niece, "through the
secret chamber, by the passage to the left and the door in the wall,
where you will see a bolt. It will lead you to the hall. Bring our men
upon them from behind: we will fight for it still."
Miss Walton took a step to obey; but the movement was not unperceived
by the captain of the militia, who exclaimed in a loud voice, turning
his head slightly towards his men--
"Cover them with your guns! If any one stirs a step, I order them to
fire!" he added, addressing the party at the entrance of the room.
But the stout-hearted old lady was not to be daunted; and, motioning
the earl back, she suddenly shut to the door, turned the key, and
stepped behind the shelter of the wall, drawing Annie with her.
There was a momentary pause, to hear if Captain Hargood would keep his
word; but not a gun was fired, and Lady Margaret reiterated her desire
that Annie would run round and bring her tenantry from the hall, into
the rear of the Roundheads.
"But no," she cried, interrupting herself. "Come with me, Annie. Come
with me, my lord. They must be some time breaking in."
"It is useless, I fear, dear lady," said the earl. "They have better
information than we imagined, and I think have been reinforced. There
seem to me to be more than twenty men, so that most probably your
people are disarmed."
"Hark!" cried Annie Walton; "there is a trumpet without! Oh! they have
many more with them, you may depend upon it!"
"A trumpet!" cried Lady Margaret, listening, and her withered face
assuming a look of joy as she heard the long, shrill blast ringing
upon the air. "So there is; so there is! Cavaliers to the rescue! This
is our dear Arrah's doing. These are king's troops, my lord. No
roundheaded Puritan ever blew a blast like that."
"On my life, I believe it is true!" cried the earl, approaching the
window and looking out. "A party have crossed the stream and are
coming over the meadows."
As he spoke, there was a loud murmuring noise in the neighbouring
chamber, and then the sound of a blow, as if from an axe, upon the
door of the room in which they were. The earl instantly threw open the
casement and vaulted out; and the next moment his voice was heard,
calling loudly, "Hither, hither!" At the same time, however, the blows
upon the door were repeated, and though made of strong solid oak, it
crashed, and one panel gave way.
"Quick, Annie!" cried Lady Margaret; "let us through the other door.
We can set them at defiance yet." But, just as they reached it, a
still heavier blow of the axe dashed the lock from its fastenings, and
the broken door flew back.
At the same moment, however, a man sprang into the open window. It was
the Earl of Beverley, but another and another followed. The casement
on the right, too, was burst open, and two or three leaped in at a
time, casting themselves in the way of the advancing militia-men.
"Down with your arms, traitors!" cried a voice that Miss Walton
thought she remembered.
"Back, Annie! Back, my beloved! Away, Lady Margaret! Keep out of the
fire!" exclaimed the earl; and, drawing her niece with her, the old
lady retired into what she called the "chamber of atonement," pushing
the door nearly to.
The next instant a musket was discharged; then came volley after
volley, then the clash of swords, and cries, and shouts, and words of
command, with every now and then a deadly groan between, while through
the chink of the door that was left open crept the pale blue smoke,
rolling round with a sulphurous smell, and the blast of the trumpet
echoed from without, as if calling up fresh spirits to the fray.
Lady Margaret Langley held her niece's hand firmly in hers, while
Annie Walton bent her fair brow upon her old relation's shoulder, and
struggled with the tears that would fain have burst forth.
The strife in the neighbouring room seemed to last an age, though in
truth its duration was but a few minutes, and then came a pause, not
of absolute silence, for the sounds were still various and many, but
there was a comparative stillness, and a voice was heard speaking,
though the words were indistinct. The moment after, some one near
exclaimed--
"Lay down your arms, then, traitors! We will grant no conditions to
rebels with arms in their bands. Hie to Major Randal, Barecolt. Tell
him to guard well every door, that no one escape. Now, sir, do you
surrender?"
Annie Walton recognised her brother's voice, and murmured, "He at
least is safe."
"We will surrender upon quarter, sir," answered the voice of Captain
Hargood.
"You shall surrender at discretion, or die where you stand," answered
Lord Walton. "Make your choice quickly, or we fire!"
Almost as he spoke, there came a dull clang, as of arms grounded
suddenly on the wooden floor; and, greatly to the relief of poor Annie
Walton's heart, the voice of Lord Beverley was heard exclaiming--
"Treat them gently, treat them gently! They are prisoners, and must
abide his majesty's pleasure."
"Thank God!" said Miss Walton; "thank God!"
"Hush!" said Lady Margaret. "Let us look out, Annie. There is a smell
of burning wood."
As she spoke, she approached the door and opened it. Annie Walton
followed close upon her steps, and gazed into the room beyond. It was
a sad and fearful scene. The bed-chamber of Lady Margaret, in which
the principal struggle had taken place, was comparatively dark,
receiving its only light from the glare of the lamp and sconces in the
drawing-room on the other side. The room was well-nigh filled with
men; others were seen through the open door, and every sort of
attitude into which the human figure can be thrown was displayed
amongst them. At the further end of the table appeared Captain Hargood
and some eight or nine of the militia, their arms cast down, and
gloomy, sullen despondency upon their faces. Near them lay three or
four others, still and motionless; one fallen upon his back, with his
arms extended; one upon his face, his limbs doubled up beneath him. A
little more in advance was another militia-man, sitting on the ground,
supporting himself with one hand upon a chair, while the other was
pressed tightly upon his side; and beside Lady Margaret's bed knelt a
young Cavalier, his long and fair curling hair streaming down his
shoulders, and his face buried in the bed-clothes. Several of the
royalist party were stretched upon the ground near; the faces and
hands of most of the others were bloody and begrimed with gunpowder;
and several were seen in different parts of the room, tying up the
wounded limb or staunching the flowing blood.
In the front stood Lord Walton and the Earl of Beverley; the one
armed, and with the stern frown of vehement excitement upon his lofty
brow; the other with no arms but a sword, and with his fine and
speaking countenance animated certainly, but calm and open. Hanging in
a thick cloud over the whole were wreaths of smoke, and a stream of a
lighter colour was finding its way through the open door, and slowly
mingling with that which the discharge of firearms had produced.
The party of the Cavaliers was by far the more numerous, and at the
moment when Lady Margaret looked in, several of them were advancing to
secure the prisoners. Lord Walton was in the act of giving various
orders, from which it was apparent that the house was surrounded by a
considerable party of the royalist cavalry; but no one seemed to
notice, in the interest of the scene before them, the fact that there
was, as Lady Margaret had observed, a strong and growing smell of
burning wood, or that ever and anon, across the smoke which was
finding its way in from the next room, came a fitful flash, unlike the
quiet and steady light of the candles.
For a short time, even Lady Margaret's attention was withdrawn from
what she had remarked to the striking scene before her; but after a
moment's pause she exclaimed--
"Charles, Charles! there is something on fire in the drawing-room."
Lord Walton started and turned round, gave a smile to Annie and his
aunt, and then, seeming suddenly to catch the meaning of her words, he
directed a look towards the door, and instantly strode forward,
passing Captain Hargood and the prisoners, and entered the
drawing-room.
The moment that he was actually within that chamber, his voice was
heard exclaiming aloud--
"Here, Wilson! Hardy! Help here! the place is on fire!" and a general
rush was made towards the other room, where it was found that some
spark or piece of lighted wadding, having fallen upon the low
hangings, had set the whole in a flame, which, communicating itself to
the old dry panelling and carved cornices, was running round the
chamber on all sides.
Every exertion was now made to extinguish the fire. Some of the
soldiers were sent, under Lady Margaret's direction, to get buckets
from the hall, where they found and released the tenantry and
servants, who had been locked in by the militia and secured under a
guard. All efforts, however, proved vain. The flames spread from room
to room; but little water was to be procured except from the stream,
and Lord Walton and the earl soon turned their attention to save the
valuable furniture, pictures, and plate.
The scene of confusion that ensued is indescribable; and indeed, to
the mind of Annie Walton herself, it all seemed more like a dream than
a reality, till she found herself standing in the gardens of the
house, her hands clasped in those of Arrah Neil, and old Major Randal
saying a few words of somewhat dry but kindly compliment; while Lady
Margaret at her side patted the head of her old dog Basto, murmuring,
"Let it burn, boy! let it burn! It has lasted its time and seen many a
heartache. So let it burn, for the villains have not had their way and
the right has triumphed."
To Annie Walton, however, it was a sad sight. Twice within a few
months had she beheld the place where she had made her home a prey to
the flames; and though she was not one to give way to idle
superstitions, it seemed as if it were a warning that she was no more
to have a fixed abode, and she said to herself with a sigh--
"Well, I will follow Charles wherever fortune shall lead him. Peace
and repose, security and comfort, are gone from the land, and I must
share the troubles of the rest."
A little in advance of the spot where she stood, guarded by two of the
soldiers of the troop, were a large pile of plate and a number of
other valuable articles; and as Miss Walton was thus thinking, her
brother approached Lady Margaret at a rapid pace from the house,
saying--
"My dear aunt, I fear it is impossible to save any part of the
building. Where shall we send these things for safety?"
"Let the house burn, my boy! let the house burn!" said Lady Margaret.
"It is not worth the hair of an honest man's head to save it. Take the
pictures, and all the rest of the things but the plate, down to the
steward's, and especially the papers. As to the silver, we will carry
it away to the king at York. He may need it more than I shall."
"He is not at York, my dear aunt," replied Lord Walton. "Ere noon
to-morrow I trust he will be in Hull, Luckily, we were on our march,
and not very far distant from the Hall, when our dear Arrah here found
us out and told us of the strait in which you were placed." As he
spoke he took Arrah Neil's fair hand, and pressed his lips upon it
warmly; and Lady Margaret, suddenly laying her hand upon his arm,
exclaimed--
"Ah, Charles! when I am dead you must be her protector."
"I will," replied Lord Walton; and then repeated still more earnestly,
"I will."
Arrah Neil gazed steadfastly in his face, and her beautiful eyes
filled with tears.