The prisoner, in the meantime, was not left in solitude; for scarcely
had Lord Danemore quitted his chamber, bearing with him a world of dark
thoughts and excited passions, when Langford was visited by the person
who, more than any one in that house or neighbourhood, seemed to know
his history and understand his situation. Mistress Bertha, as she was
called, came, ostensibly in her character of housekeeper, to ask if
there were anything to be done for the promotion of his comfort:
saying, that she had been so commanded in the morning by the Earl. She
lingered, however, after she had received his answer, though for some
minutes she scarcely spoke; and when she did, she merely uttered a
comment on the storm that was raging without. Langford seemed to
understand her character well, and he too kept silence, leaving her to
say anything that she might desire to say, in her own manner and at her
own time.
"It is an awful night," she said; "an awful night, indeed. It is such a
night as the spirits of bad men should depart in. I never pass such a
night without thinking that there is a likeness between it and the dark
stormy heart of the wicked. But it matters not," she added, after a
long thoughtful pause. "I have linked myself to his fate, and I must
not sever the bond. He is my master, and has been good to me, though he
may have wronged others. I will remain by his side."
She paused again, and Langford merely replied, "It were too late now to
think of it."
"I understand your meaning," she said, "and it is too late. You would
say that in former times I ought to have adhered to the wronged and the
oppressed, and so I would, but I was driven from them. It is needless
now, however," she continued--"it is needless to say one word more on
that score; let us talk of other things. Has he been with you again?"
"He has scarcely left me a moment," replied Langford; "and I fear with
less friendly feelings towards me than when we met before. I showed him
that I knew much of his former life; for, in truth, good Bertha, the
blow must be struck now or never."
"It must, it must!" she replied; "but not too rapidly. Be cautious, be
careful. After he left you this morning, I was with him long, and his
feelings were all such as you could have hoped for. What had passed
between you I know not; but there was a softness, a tenderness had come
over him: a light as from other days seemed to shine into his heart,
and to flash upon affections and feelings long buried in darkness. He
spoke to me of things he has not spoken of for many a year; he used
words and he named names that I never thought to hear him utter again.
The sight of you seemed to form an eddy in the current of time which
carried him back to a happier and brighter part of its course. Be
careful, however. Be careful how you deal with him. If you act well and
wisely, ere the drops are dried up which are now falling from the
clouds, you may tell him all; you may ask him all. But I know him well;
and one rash word, one hasty act, may undo your fortunes at the very
moment they are well nigh built up."
"I will be careful," replied Langford; "I will be careful, because I am
bound by every tie to use all gentle means, rather than harsh ones. But
still it is hard completely to restrain one's self, and to seek with
softness and concession that which is wrongly withheld, and which I
have every right to demand with the loud voice of justice."
"To demand, and not obtain," replied Bertha; "for there is no means by
which you can gain your purpose except by gentleness."
Langford smiled. "Be not quite sure of that," he said. "I have at this
moment my fate in my own power."
"Indeed!" she exclaimed; "indeed! how so?"
"It matters not," Langford replied; "be assured I have; but, as I have
said, I am bound by every consideration to use gentle means. If I find
that they will succeed, I will employ none other; but should they fail,
I will boldly and openly assert my own rights, and both claim and take
that which is my own."
Bertha's eye, while he spoke, fixed upon one of those small doors in
the wainscotting, which we have more than once mentioned, and she shook
her head, with an incredulous smile. "Because," she said, answering his
thoughts more than his words, "because I have placed you here, and
because there is between you and what you desire but one small
partition. That partition is of iron, which, had you a thousandfold the
strength you possess, you could never break through."
"I know it," replied Langford, "I know it well; but yet I tell you,
that in those respects my fate is in my own power. However, I will use
all gentle means, though no subtlety; but in the end I will do myself
right."
"Be it as you say," she answered; "but of one thing beware. It seems
that you have rekindled in his bosom a hope of his son Harold being
still living. Avoid that; the boy is dead, beyond all doubt: struck
down, poor fellow! in his pride of life--broken off in his dearest
dream of happiness and love. But let it be so; it is well it should. He
would have lived but to deeper grief; he would have remained but for
greater anguish. Give the father no hope! For your own sake, give him
no hope that the boy is still alive!"
"But I entertained hope myself," replied Langford; "and it was not in
my nature, Bertha, to see a father grieving for the death of his son.
and not try to afford him what consolation I could."
She shook her head mournfully, adding--"He is dead. I feel that his
fate is accomplished. He could not live. He had no right to live. The
date is out. He is taken away. But I must stay with you no longer; yet
in leaving you, remember my words: use none but gentle means. Urge him
alone by the kinder feelings of his nature, for if ever there was a man
in whom there dwelt at once two strong spirits, powerful for good and
powerful for evil, it is he."
"I will remember your advice," replied Langford, "and thank you for it.
I will use gentle means; but by one means or another right shall be
done."
She lingered for another moment or two, as if desirous of saying more,
but then turned and left him; and proceeding down the staircase into
the hall, she encountered the lawyer, just alighted from his horse.
The man of law bowed low and reverentially to one whom he knew to
possess great influence over his patron; and, more for something to say
than on any other account, added to the usual salutation of good
evening, "It is a terrible night, Mistress Bertha; a good soaked posset
now were not amiss to warm one."
She looked upon him, however, with cold and motionless features, merely
replying in an under voice, as he passed on, "The time will come, I
rather think, when you will be glad of something to cool instead of to
warm you."
The lawyer must have caught the meaning of what she said, as well as
the servant who was conducting him; for a well satisfied smile came
upon the face of the latter, while the attorney shrugged his shoulders,
and said aloud, "She is a rare virago."
He was conducted by the servant into the library of the castle, where,
against the wide and lofty walls, and round the massive pillars that
supported the roof, were ranged in due order a vast number of dusty
volumes, containing the wisdom and the learning, and the folly and the
dulness, of many preceding ages. Lights were placed upon the table; and
after waiting for a few minutes, gazing upon the ponderous tomes around
him, without, however, venturing to disturb any of them by taking them
from their places of long repose, he was joined by the Earl, on whose
strongly-marked countenance the keen and practised eye of the lawyer
recognised at once the traces of strong emotion.
Deep and reverential was the bow with which the Earl was greeted by the
same man who had so lately treated Alice Herbert and her father with
contempt and indignity. He remained standing though the Earl had seated
himself, and even then did not sit down till he had been twice told to
do so. The Earl at the same time would gladly have had the lawyer abate
so much of his respect as to commence the conversation himself, for the
nobleman's mind was full of dark purposes and stormy passions, and he
wished them to be led forth by degrees, lest the fierce crowd, in
rushing out too hastily, should throw open the innermost secrets of his
heart to a stranger. The lawyer, however, did not venture to do so,
being rather overawed than otherwise by the state of agitation in which
he beheld his noble client; and the Earl, putting a restraint upon his
words, to prevent himself from hurrying forward to the subject of his
thoughts at once, began the conversation by saying, "This is a stormy
night, sir. What business, may I ask, has brought you hither at such an
hour and in this weather?"
The lawyer, though he had gained no small knowledge of the world by
long dealings with every different class of men, and by seeing them
under every different circumstance and affection, was, nevertheless,
embarrassed in regard to his demeanour towards Lord Danemore, situated
as he knew him to be at that moment. He had expected to find him, as he
did find him, deeply agitated; but the agitation which he had imagined
he should behold was bitter grief for the death of his son. Now there
was something in the aspect of the peer which made him see at once that
many other feelings were mingled with his sorrow, and as he did not
know what those feelings were, and desired solely so to shape his whole
conduct as to make it agreeable to his patron, he was excessively
anxious to discover, by some means, what was going on in the Earl's
breast, in order to direct his course accordingly.
Finding, however, that he was not able to make such discoveries,
he judged it the best plan to throw before the Earl the subject
furthest removed from the death of his son; and to counterbalance
grief by exciting anger. He replied, therefore, after a moment's
thought--"Nothing but important business, my lord, would have induced
me to intrude upon you at such a moment. Your lordship, however, will
recollect that you gave me your commands how to proceed in regard to
the old Knight at Moorhurst, in which, I am sorry to say, I have been
frustrated by a most unexpected incident."
"Frustrated, sir!" exclaimed the Earl, the whole of whose passions were
in too excited a state not to take fire at every new obstacle cast in
his way. "Frustrated. By all the powers of Heaven, I will not be
frustrated! What? do you mean to tell me there is any flaw in the bond,
any error in the transaction, which will debar me of my right? If so,
look to yourself, sir, for you drew up the whole. Or would you have me
believe that he has money to discharge the debt? I tell you, sir, he is
a beggar; he is ruined--undone--as you well know. What is the meaning
of all this? Frustrated! Shall he frustrate me?" and he ended with a
scoff of angry derision.
"It is for the purpose of preventing it, my lord," replied the lawyer,
meekly, "that I came hither to-night. I wish to lay the case before
you, and take your lordship's commands."
"Well, sir, well," rejoined the Earl, recovering from the first burst
of passion, "tell me the facts, that I may judge."
From not knowing the new matter which had been cast into the fiery
furnace of the Earl's bosom, the lawyer was more and more puzzled at
his demeanour every moment. He saw that there was an undercurrent of
feelings running more rapidly than the natural course of those excited
by the matter on which they spoke. And in order to fathom his mind, and
ascertain of what feelings that undercurrent was really composed, he
resolved to throw in, even unnecessarily, the name of Lord Harold, and
he answered--"The facts are these, my lord. After seeing you yesterday,
and taking precise instructions from you as to the course I was to
pursue, I went over to Moorhurst, where I found your lordship's
lamented son."
As he spoke a dark cloud came over the countenance of the Earl, but it
was of a different kind and character from that which had hung upon his
brow before; and the lawyer, at once perceiving that he had not found
the right road, instantly turned to the straightforward path, finding
that he must take his chance of going right or wrong in a country where
there was no finger-post to direct him. "I was apprehensive," he
continued, "lest his generosity might step in to interfere with your
lordship's just views and purposes."
"Speak not of my son, sir," said the Earl, sternly; "speak not of my
son; for although now that the first anguish is past, I have conquered
the quivering of my wounded heart, and the flesh is still, yet I love
not that any one should lay his finger on the spot, unless it be a
surgeon to heal the injury. Go on with the matter in hand. What said
Sir Walter Herbert?"
"Why, he said, my lord, that he could not pay the money," replied the
lawyer; "and he fell into a great state of agitation, and would not
believe that his affairs were so bad, till I showed him that they could
hardly be worse; and then Mistress Alice was sent for, and I must say,
never were such airs as the young woman gave herself."
"The young lady, sir!" said the Earl, sternly; "you forget yourself.
The person whom I considered meet to be the bride of my son, may well
merit her proper name from a low person like yourself."
The attorney was not without the natural feelings of humanity, and he
did not fail to experience all those sensations which, under different
circumstances induce one man to knock another down. But the effect of
our feelings when they are prevented from operating in their natural
direction, is often, by their recoil, to drive us in a way directly
contrary. Though the lawyer then would have given a great deal to have
repelled the insulting language of Lord Danemore, yet he would not have
given for that purpose the hundredth part of the advantage which he
derived from his patronage and employment; and this being the case, it
always happened that the more rude and overbearing the peer showed
himself in his demeanour towards the lawyer, the more servile and
humble became the lawyer towards the peer.
In the present instance, he begged his lordship's pardon a thousand
times, but excused himself on the plea that the conduct of Mistress
Alice--her expressions regarding his lordship himself--had been so bold
and haughty, that his indignation got the better of his manners.
"However, my lord," he continued, "she agreed at once to give up the
pittance that she possesses, for the relief of her father; but still
the plate and the jewels, and all the rest, would have to be sold to
make up the sum required. I doubt if even that would do, and he would
certainly be obliged to go out of the house, and be reduced nearly to a
state of beggary."
There was a degree of satisfaction apparent in the countenance of the
Earl which made the lawyer stop to let it work, and he watched every
shade of expression that passed over the face of Lord Danemore, as he
gazed with a curling lip upon the ground. With a sudden start, however,
the peer raised his eyes to the countenance of the lawyer, and beheld
there--reading it in a moment as a familiar book--all that was passing
within his agent's mind.
"You are right, sir," he said, going boldly and at once to the subject
of the lawyer's thoughts; "I do hate that man, and if you think that
you have made a discovery, you deceive yourself, for there is nothing
to conceal. Other men hate their neighbours as well as I, and I see not
wherefore I should not have my own private enmities, and gratify them
like others. He is one of those good honest people whom the world
delights to praise, and the vulgar love and honour. He sets himself up
for modest simplicity, and yet affects a state and station which he has
not the means to maintain. He is one of your positive lovers of right,
too, yielding but formal respect to his superiors, but denying them all
authority in matters of importance. In times long gone, when first I
returned after the Restoration, I met with more difficulty and
opposition in establishing my just rights and influence over
the tenantry and people in the neighbourhood, from that mild
justice-fancying, learning-loving Sir Walter Herbert, than from all the
other petty squires and magistrates in the county. If it had not been
for the love my poor boy entertained for him and for his daughter, I
would have swept him from my path long ago; but go on, go on with your
tale. What obstacle has since arisen?"
"Why, last night, my lord," replied the lawyer, "I left all matters in
as fair a train as well might be. The old man had become as pale as
ashes, and the young lady, notwithstanding all her pride, had more than
once wept bitterly. I gave them till this morning to make up their
minds as to how they would act; but when I went thither about two or
three hours ago, I found the old knight from home, and my young
mistress with, her pride and haughtiness all in fresh bloom again. The
end of the matter is, my lord, that it seems a friend has been found
foolish enough to advance the money without any security whatsoever--a
Captain Langford, whom I never before heard of."
"Who? who?" demanded the Earl.
The lawyer repeated the name; and his noble companion, starting up,
struck the table a blow with his clenched hand which made the lights
dance and flicker as they stood. "This is too much!" he said; "This is
too much! I know now where I must aim."
The lawyer had risen at the same time as the peer, and Lord Danemore,
striding across towards him, grasped him firmly by the arm, saying, in
a low voice. "That very man--that very Langford, is now in this house,
having been brought hither by those two foolish justices, Sir Thomas
Waller and Sir Matthew Scrope, on charge of being the murderer of my
son."
The lawyer, forgetting one half of the awful circumstances of the
moment, rubbed his hands with a look of satisfaction. "That will just
do, my lord! That will just do!" he exclaimed. "If we can get any proof
whatsoever that the money is furnished by this Langford, we will, when
it is tendered, which will doubtless be the case to-morrow, seize upon
it as the property of a felon, and then proceed against Sir Walter as
if he had never had it. Long ere this Langford comes to be tried, by
one means or another we can lay the old man by the heels in gaol, and
then, by one process or another, mount up such an expense at law as
will leave him scarcely a coat to his back."
The Earl smiled, partly with satisfaction at the ready means of
gratification which had been found for him in one instance, and partly
with contemptuous insight into the workings of the lawyer's mind,
feeling that degree of pleasant scorn with which the more powerful but
not less evil minds regard the minor operations of the tools they work
with in the accomplishment of wicked purposes. The lawyer remarked the
expression, and fancied that it was well-pleased admiration of his
skill and readiness; and again he rubbed his hands, and chuckled with
conceit and pleasure.
The Earl, however, waved his hand somewhat sternly. "Cease, cease," he
said: "I can have no laughter here! This house is a house of mourning
and of vengeance. We will have no laughter! Your idea is a good one,
and you shall be rewarded if the execution answers to the conception.
But there is more to be done; there are still greater things to be
accomplished--things that are painful to me, but which yet I must do;
things I shall remember and regret but which yet I will not shrink
from."
As he spoke there came over the strong stern features of the old man's
face a dark and awful expression which made even the lawyer shrink and
draw back, accustomed as he was to see human passions in all their
direst forms. It was the expression, the irrepressible expression of a
powerful mind deliberately summoning all its energies to the commission
of a crime known, appreciated, and abhorred. The evident effect
produced upon the lawyer seemed in some degree to affect his patron,
who, ere he spoke further, took two or three gloomy turns up and down
the room, and then again drawing near him, said, "But this Langford;
what is to be done with Langford? He remains to be dealt with."
The lawyer gazed in the Earl's countenance, doubting in his own mind
what he meant; and imagining that the very fact of having aided Sir
Walter Herbert was so great a crime in the eyes of the Earl as to call
down his vengeance as remorselessly upon the one as upon the other. It
was a pitch of vindictiveness at which even his mind was staggered, and
he said with some embarrassment, "But, my lord, from what your lordship
said just now of those two justices, I fancied you thought the
gentleman not guilty."
The Earl gazed upon him steadfastly for so long that the lawyer shrunk
beneath his eyes. He then answered deliberately, "I do not think him
guilty, but yet I would prove him so."
"But, my lord," stammered the lawyer, "my lord, if the man be innocent!
I dare say he did not know he would offend your lordship by helping Sir
Walter, otherwise----"
"Hush!" exclaimed the Earl. "It is no such pitiful motive as that which
moves me. I have other reasons for my actions, other causes for my
determination. Whether the man murdered my son or not is of little
import in this question. Hearken to me, my good friend; he must be
swept from my path. I have strong and sufficient causes for wishing him
hence. He must be removed. He and I cannot live long in the same world
together!"
"Good God! my lord," replied the lawyer, this is very terrible. "I
really know not how to act, or what to think."
"Think," said the peer, "that if by your means I succeed in this
business--if, by your zeal for myself and my family you convict this
man of the murder of my son, wealth and distinction shall be yours for
the rest of your life, but if you do not----"
"But, my lord," said the lawyer, presuming upon the situation in which
they were placed so far as to interrupt the Earl, "these are great and
terrible things; and if I undertake to accomplish that which your
lordship wishes, I must have my reward made sure to me. We do not do
such things without reward, nor with any uncertainty."
Lord Danemore now felt, by the bold tone assumed by his subservient
tool, a part of the bitterness of wrong action; but he was prepared for
that also, and he replied at once, "You are bold, sir, to speak to me
in such a manner; but I understand your meaning, and I have a hold upon
you yet. We are here alone, with no one to witness our conversation;
you therefore judge that I may promise and not perform. But that same
exclusion of all witnesses is my security, if not yours; and I now tell
you, that if you do not accomplish that which I command, I will
withdraw from your hands all those sources of emolument you now enjoy
from me; and I will keep this promise in the one case, as surely as I
will keep the other in the other case. Make me no reply now: I give you
half an hour to determine, and will return to you at the end of that
time."
The Earl turned, and walked towards the door; but before he had reached
it, the lawyer raised his voice, saying, "My lord, my lord! Do not go!
I have determined! What you wish shall be done at all risks, and I will
trust to your lordship's promise fully. Only name what is to be my
reward!"
The Earl smiled with a dark and bitter smile while he replied,
deliberately, "The sum which shall be tendered me to-morrow by Sir
Walter Herbert."
"Enough, enough, my lord," said the lawyer; "it shall be done."
The Earl turned and came back to the table. "You understand," he said,
"the money shall be yours--when he is dead."
The lawyer was very pale, as well as his patron, but he answered,
distinctly. "I do understand, my lord!"
As he spoke, a sudden flash of the lightning glared upon the
countenance of each. That of the peer was stern, calm, and determined;
that of the lawyer was quivering under a fearful degree of emotion: but
what is singular, though the storm had been proceeding during the whole
time they were together, so fierce had been the struggle in the bosom
of each that neither had noticed the strife of the elements without.
The moment, however, that the fearful words had passed, that the dark
determination was taken, both remarked the flash and heard the peal of
thunder that followed. They were neither of them men to shrink at
portents; and though the thunder made the lawyer start, it seemed to
both but a confirmation of their compact.
"It is a tremendous night," said the Earl; "you must sleep here, my
good friend."
The lawyer muttered forth some few words of thanks, and withdrew; but
sleep visited not that night the soft pillow on which he laid his head.