With a sad heart, Sir Walter Herbert turned towards his own dwelling,
after having taken all the proper steps to secure medical assistance
for the lawyer of the Earl of Danemore, and to have a proper
investigation instituted regarding the death of the man whose body had
been found buried in the moor. Every circumstance combined to sadden
and pain him; the imprisonment of Langford and the uncertainty of his
fate, the strange and somewhat fearful event attending the finding of
the dead body, the scene of violence and outrage which had occurred on
the attempt to arrest him, the dangerous condition of the lawyer, and
the severe punishment likely to be inflicted, if he should die, upon
the warm-hearted people who had taken part in the affray, might well
have rendered the good knight melancholy and desponding, even if care
had not pressed heavily upon him in regard to his own affairs.
He went home, however, under the full impression that the writ against
him would be renewed on the morrow, and that twelve or fourteen hours
was the whole space of time which would be allowed him to prepare for
the payment of the debt. He had to tell his sweet daughter all these
painful facts; he had to require of her to give up for the sake of his
liberty the small fortune which she called her own; he had himself to
take means as rapidly as possible to sell the old family plate, which
he had seen standing on his sideboard for fifty years; and bitterer
than all, he had to sell those jewels which had been worn by the wife
he had always truly loved; many a sweet token of early affection; the
gems that she had received on her wedding morning, and many a trinket
and ornament which marked in the calendar of past time some bright
days, some happy hours, that could return no more.
Even then, perhaps, all would not be sufficient, and he thought of what
more could be sacrificed to satisfy the claim against him. His horses,
his carriages, they could indeed be sold, but this would not go far;
his library, if disposed of in haste, would not bring half its value;
his pictures, though chosen with much knowledge and fine taste, would
be thrown away in that remote part of the country; and he pondered, and
calculated, and doubted till he reached his own doorway.
"Halliday," he said to the servant whom he met, "I wish you would mount
Whitefoot as soon as possible, and ride over to the county town. There
tell honest Master Antony Evelyn, attorney-at-law, to come over here
without a moment's delay, bringing his clerk with him; and also if you
can find Brooks the jeweller, make him come too."
The man bowed without reply, and Sir Walter went into the room where
his daughter sat expecting him. Her arms were round his neck in a
moment; and the expression of her countenance, which had become very
pale under the grief and agitation of the last few days, told him,
without her speaking, how anxiously she had watched for him, and how
apprehensive she had been of some new evil.
"I have been detained very long from you, my sweet Alice," he said,
trying to look as cheerful as he could; "but several extraordinary
things have occurred to detain me. Nay, look not alarmed, dear Alice;
some of those things are to a certain extent satisfactory. The body of
poor Lord Harold has not been found, but in the place where it was
supposed to be laid, was discovered another body, that of a man who had
evidently met with a violent death; and on the breast was placed a
paper, intimating that it was the corpse of him who had murdered Lord
Harold, or something to that effect. This must tend, my dear girl," he
continued, taking his child's hand between both of his, as he saw that
the very mention of such circumstances affected her very much--"this
must tend greatly to hasten our dear friend Langford's exculpation, as
he could have no hand in the burial of this unknown person, having been
at that very time in confinement on this false charge, when poor Silly
John Graves saw the corpse interred. It must, therefore, I say, greatly
tend to hasten his exculpation."
"Thank God for that, my dear father!--thank God for that!" replied
Alice; not with the usual levity with which such an exclamation is
often uttered, but with true thankfulness, deep and sincere. "If
Langford were but free, I think--at least I hope--that you and he, by
consulting together, might soon find means of removing all the other
terrible things that now seem to be hanging over us."
"His liberation would at once remove one great difficulty," replied Sir
Walter; "for the Earl would no longer have a pretext for detaining the
money which I tendered him, as he most unhandsomely and ungenerously
did this morning; but I see that it is the Earl's object to pain and
injure me."
"But tell me what more has happened, my dear father," said Alice,
seating herself beside him; "I see by your face that the rest of your
tidings are not so agreeable as the first part. Indeed, I know that you
always tell me the pleasant news first, and then would fain not let me
hear the rest at all. But, indeed, dear father, I am prepared--I am
fully prepared; and wherefore am I your child, if not to share and
lighten your cares and anxieties?"
"Thou dost lighten them, my Alice," answered her father; "thou dost
lighten them by thy very looks; but still, my dear child, I have much
that is painful to tell, and if it were possible, would fain keep it to
my own breast. But it must be told, Alice, for your father must at
length come to his child for aid."
"Oh that his child's powers to grant it were as great as her will, my
father. Do you know, I do not look upon a little adversity, my dear
father, with so evil an eye as you do. I could almost wish for it, if
it did not go too far, and make you unhappy; to show you how easily I
could bear it, and to have the means of paying you back all the
kindness, and tenderness, and care you have shown me."
She spoke with a smile, but there was nothing harsh to the feelings of
Sir Walter in her playfulness even at that moment, for it was mixed
with sadness, like the gleam of the blue sky through a stormy cloud. He
pressed her to his bosom, and he told her all that had occurred; and
she felt more bitterly than even he had, the insult and the degradation
which had been offered to him. She thought of her father's years and of
his character; she thought of him, not only as her own parent, but as
the benevolent master, the kind friend, the liberal landlord, the
benefactor of all that came near him; and when she heard that an
attempt had been made, unannounced, to arrest him for debt, in the
midst of the tenantry that reverenced him, in the face of the country
where he had lived and done good through a long life, indignation was
strong in her heart; and, as she would not give it words, it broke
through the silken lashes of her eyes in tears.
"There are many painful points in this business, dear Alice," continued
her father; "should this lawyer die, which seems to me but too likely,
from his state, poor young Rapson, who struck him the first blow, is
likely to fall under severe punishment."
"Oh, heaven forbid that he should die!" exclaimed Alice, eagerly;
"though he is a bad man, and an unkind one, I trust that so severe a
fate may not overtake him, especially under such circumstances as
these."
"I trust not, also, my sweet Alice," replied her father; "the man
doubtless acted but as he was told to act; and, indeed, the whole
demeanour of Lord Danemore this morning shows that these ungenerous
actions are his, not those of the mere tools that he employs. But I am
grieved for the dangerous situation in which this rash young man has
placed himself; for though the first blow is all that is to be
attributed to him, and the more severe injuries the man has received
proceeded from his being trodden under foot by the people----"
Alice covered her eyes with her hands, and gave a slight shudder at the
image thus presented to her sight; and her father seeing the effect his
words had produced, turned to the more immediate matter of which he had
to speak. In fact he had but dwelt upon the collateral part of the
business, from an unwillingness to approach things that he thought
would be more personally painful to his daughter. Feeling that it must
be done, however, he now went on.
"Well, well, Alice," he continued, "I will not speak of these horrible
things any more, though what I have to say may be equally painful. I am
afraid, my dear child, that in the course of to-morrow we shall have a
new visit from this sheriff's officer. He knows, from all that has
passed, that I will not resist the law, and that my doors will never be
shut in order to avoid its execution. Under these circumstances he is
sure to pursue his object, and consequently I must in some way be
prepared to meet him. The sacrifice of the small fortune you possess
independent of me, which that rascally lawyer proposed to you some
nights ago, your father must now propose himself, however painful it
may be to him."
"Thank you, thank you, my dear father," exclaimed Alice, throwing her
arms around his neck, "you cannot think how happy you make me."
"But, alas, my dear child," continued Sir Walter, "this is not all.
What you can supply will be but a part; I must instantly be prepared
with a much larger sum; the house must be stripped of its paintings,
all our old favourite horses must know other masters, the plate must be
sold; even the carriages and the furniture, except merely that of those
rooms which we inhabit, must fetch what they may. The shelves of my
library must be emptied; ay, Alice, and even more, for even this will
not be enough. Your mother's jewels, my sweet girl, those jewels which
were always destined for yourself, which are, indeed, yours by right,
they too must go to adorn strangers."
Alice's heart was very full, and the tears would fain have rushed up
into her eyes; but the resolute determination of a woman's mind, when
roused by noble motives to a great effort, will triumph over mental as
well as over bodily pangs, and bear them as if they existed not. By a
sharp struggle, Alice repressed the fountain of her tears, for she knew
that the slightest sign of reluctance would add to the anguish of her
father's heart: that to give way to her own sorrow would more than
double his. Not a tear then stained her cheek, and she only replied,
"What better use could they be put to, my father, than to avert such a
painful event as that which you expect. As jewels, of course, I care
not for them, and only think of them as my mother's; but I know how
willingly that dear mother would have sacrificed them to buy one
moment's comfort, and I will only ask for one ring as a remembrance, if
it makes no difference--the ring which she always wore."
She spoke calmly, though not cheerfully; but Sir Walter knew all that
was passing in his daughter's heart, as well as if he could have seen
its movements, and the gentle restraint she put upon herself affected
him, perhaps, more than her tears would have done. He pressed her hands
in his, and then turned to the window to conceal his emotion.
The sun had just set, and the sky was still full of light, though,
halfway between the horizon--where the deep blue distance cut upon the
bright golden expanse of the heavens--and the zenith--where the orange
hues melted into rich purple--there hung a dark heavy cloud.
Alice had followed her father to the window, and both, as they gazed
upon the expanse before them, suffered imagination to find an image in
the scene. Sir Walter thought that the warm golden space below
resembled the past years of his existence, that the dark cloud looked
like his present fate, and that the purple sky above was that far land
beyond the grave to which his footsteps were rapidly hastening. His
daughter's was a more hopeful vision, and with her, fancy reversed the
objects. The calm purple sky over their heads was the sweet tranquil
past; the dark cloud was, indeed, the present; but in the golden light
beyond, she saw a future of warm happy days. There was an indistinct
feeling, however, that her father read the sight less cheerfully, and
she told him how she read the heavens before her.
Sir Walter sighed, but he would not check her by giving the more
melancholy picture; and even as she spoke, the wind moved the heavy
cloud slightly to the east, and in the midst of the bright and intense
light below burst forth a clear brilliant star, outshining all the
splendour that surrounded it.
"There, there!" cried Alice, with all the enthusiasm of a young and
ardent heart, finding in that sight fresh auguries of hope. "There,
there!"
Her father turned and pressed her to his heart, only replying, "May it
be so, beloved; may it be so."
The rest of the evening passed, till about ten o'clock at night, in
making various painful arrangements for effecting what Sir Walter had
proposed. He had calculated that between ten and eleven o'clock his
servant Halliday would return with the lawyer and the jeweller whom he
had sent for, and when about half-past ten the bell at the great gates
was rung, he doubted not that it gave notice of their arrival. One of
the other servants, however, appeared a few minutes afterwards, and
with a grave face, and a manner that seemed to court interrogation, he
announced that two strange men demanded to see Sir Walter.
"I suppose Master Evelyn has not been able to come himself," said the
knight, "and has sent some of his clerks. Show them in."
The man proceeded to obey, but when the door opened, with grief and
astonishment Sir Walter beheld the face of John Bolland, who was
followed by another person of the same stamp.
"How is this, sir," exclaimed the Knight, "how is this? you know very
well that it is not legal to execute an arrest for debt after sunset,
and I am even now making preparations for paying this sum to-morrow
morning."
"Ay, you see, Sir Walter," replied Bolland, with an air of cool
insolence, "that may suit your purpose very well, but it won't suit
mine; for I'm to have a hundred guineas, you see, if I arrest you
before twelve o'clock to-night."
Alice clung to her father with a pale cheek, and a heart through which
the blood seemed to force itself with pain; but Sir Walter pressed her
hand, saying, "Do not be alarmed, Alice; this act is illegal, and I
shall certainly resist it. You are, sir," he continued, turning to
Bolland with a frowning brow, "you are engaged at this moment, as you
very well know, in an illegal attempt, and you may consider it as more
owing to my respect for myself than to your situation, that I do not
order the servants to throw you out of the window."
"Not quite so illegal as you may think, Sir Walter," replied Bolland,
"the caption was made this morning, be so good as to recollect. I then
had my right hand upon your shoulder and the writ in my left. That was
at a legal hour, I take it, Sir Walter; and your being rescued by a mob
has nothing to do with the matter. I am responsible for you to the
sheriff; I came here not to arrest you, but to claim my prisoner, and
if you resist, it is at your peril."
Sir Walter pressed his daughter to his bosom, and bent down his head.
"I am afraid, my child," he said, "that what this man alleges is but
too true."
Alice replied nothing for a moment or two; but then, gently disengaging
herself from her father's arms, she took two or three steps towards the
officer; and, gazing earnestly in his face, she demanded, "You are not
surely going to take my father out of his own house at this time of
night?"
"Why, I must do my duty, young mistress," replied the man; "and as I
shan't get paid unless I have him in quod to-night, I'm afraid he must
budge."
"Oh! my dear father, my dear father!" exclaimed Alice, turning to Sir
Walter, "all this man wants is money. What is a hundred pounds to your
comfort? We have more than that in the house, a good deal more, I know.
Give him the hundred pounds he wants, and he will come back to-morrow
for the rest, when you have settled everything and are ready to pay
it."
"No, Alice, never," replied Sir Walter; "I will never so countenance
extortion and villany. I should be unworthy of the respect and esteem
of any one were I to do it; as unworthy as he who has already offered
him that sum for worse purposes. No, my child, no; I will go, however
bitter it may be. I will not sink myself in my own esteem. All I ask,
sir, is time to write a letter to my lawyer, in case he does not arrive
to-night before I go, and to put some papers of importance in order."
"Well," answered Bolland, "I've no objection to that. I suppose you'd
like to travel in your own coach; so while the horses are putting to,
you can give me and my friend here a bit of supper, and do what you
like, provided you give us your word of honour that you'll come back
here within the hour. I always like to deal gentlemanly with a
gentleman, and am not so hard as many would make me out."
Sir Walter pledged himself as was required, and taking his daughter by
the hand he left the room, up and down which Bolland continued to walk,
whistling the air of an indecent song, and commenting with some taste
upon the pictures, till two or three servants brought in the supper he
had demanded, eyeing him while they laid it out as if they would much
rather have beaten him to a mummy than provided him with food. He sat
down, however, with perfect carelessness, helped himself liberally to
beef and ale, and encouraged his companion to partake. Shortly after,
the sound of a horse's feet was heard passing by, and Halliday ere long
thrust his head into the room, gazing upon the two officers with a very
menacing countenance. He said nothing, however, but retired and shut
the door.
When about three quarters of an hour had passed, and Bolland was
beginning to get somewhat impatient, the door again opened, and Alice
glided in, clad in a travelling dress. "You have of course no
objection, sir," she said, approaching the officer, "to my accompanying
my father?"
"Why, I never object to anything in reason, my young mistress," replied
the man. "You see, for all such things we have a regulation, which is,
that when civility is shown, civility money should be given."
"Only tell me what you demand," she said; "and if it be in my power you
shall have it."
The man gazed in her face for a moment, as if calculating how much he
should ask, and then replied, "Why, five guineas is about the fee; but
I should think a young lady like you would find a prison a poor place
to be in."
"So will my father find it," replied Alice, sadly; "and I should find a
palace a poor place if I were away from him at such a moment of care
and anxiety; but I intend to take a woman servant with me, of course."
"Oh, that will be a guinea more, then," answered the hard-hearted man,
with a shrewd wink to his follower; "if you will do it like
gentlefolks, you must pay for it."
Alice made no reply, for she well knew that she was imposed upon, but
was yet determined to submit to the imposition; and, drawing forth her
purse, she paid the money demanded at once, to have it over before her
father entered the room.
It was scarcely done when he appeared, but she had already obtained his
unwilling consent to her going, and he only said, "I wish you could be
dissuaded, my Alice; you do not know what you undertake."
Several of the servants had followed him into the room, as well as the
maid who was to accompany her mistress; and Sir Walter placed a letter
in the hand of Halliday, saying calmly, "Let that go to Master Evelyn
by day-break to-morrow. He might perhaps have saved me much pain if he
had come over to-night. My good friends," he added, addressing the
servants with that calm fatherly suavity of manner which, though it had
deserted him two or three days before, when the principal facts of his
pecuniary situation were first brought to his notice, was now
completely restored. "My good friends, keep all together in your
master's absence, for I trust I shall soon return to you again. I think
I need not bid you, who have been such good and faithful servants to me
for many years, keep an orderly and economical household till I return.
I believe there is not one of you who would feel at any time disposed
to riot or intemperance, but certainly not during your master's
absence, under such circumstances as those in which you now see me."
One or two of them murmured something in a low voice, but there were
tears in the eyes of all, and, amidst kind but ineffectual wishes, Sir
Walter and his daughter descended to the court-yard, and entered the
carriage, which was already prepared. There was something in the old
knight's demeanour which did not suffer the impudence even of a
Bolland to go too far; and when Sir Walter and his daughter, and the
maid-servant had entered the coach, the officer approached the side,
saying, "I'll tell you what, Sir Walter, it's customary with us to go
in the carriage with our prisoners, if they have a carriage; but as I
dare say you'd like better to go by yourselves, we'll mount our horses
and return as we came."
Sir Walter bowed his head without reply. The door was shut, and with
slow and solemn pace, as if unwilling to perform their task, the four
strong horses which had been harnessed to the ponderous vehicle dragged
it forth from the court-yard, and taking the lower road through the
park, bent their way towards the county town. When they had gone about
half a mile, the clock of Moorhurst church, which they were leaving
behind them, was heard clear and distinctly, striking twelve.
"Bear witness, John!" cried Bolland to the man who followed with him on
horseback behind the carriage--"bear witness that I had him out of his
own house before twelve o'clock: so that I've fairly won the money.
Take care, master coachman, how you drive," he shouted, "for the night
is as dark as pitch."
"I drove this road before your father was hanged," growled the
coachman, "and I trust to drive it after you're hanged a foot higher
than he was."
In the meanwhile, of all the party in the carriage, perhaps Sir Walter
was the least sad. His spirits had rallied wonderfully now that the
worst was over, and, sitting with his daughter's hand in his, he talked
even cheerfully of the means of extricating himself from his present
difficulties. All the little legal knowledge that he possessed was
called up, and he said that he doubted not to be able easily to obtain
good bail at the county town, which would give him plenty of time to
effect the sale that he proposed without the great loss attendant upon
more hurried proceedings, even if Langford should not be set at liberty
before that time, and the money which the Earl had detained restored.
Of Langford's situation, too, he spoke cheerfully, in order to cheer
his daughter; and as her hand lay in his, she also made a great effort
to appear tranquil, though more than once, under cover of the darkness,
she suffered the silent tears to stream down her cheeks, and found
therein substantial relief.
Their journey was necessarily very slow, and though the distance from
Moorhurst to the town was not more than fourteen miles, and a full hour
had elapsed since their departure, they had not proceeded one-third of
the way when a red light began to spread over the sky above them,
increasing every moment in intensity till every part of the sandy lane
through which they were dragged slowly along became plainly visible to
the eyes.
In vain they wasted conjectures as to what this could mean; they had no
means of discovering; and the strong light still continued for nearly
an hour. It was beginning slightly to abate when they traversed the
further end of the moor, about two miles beyond the spot where the
affray had taken place in the morning. They then entered a road between
high banks, where the blaze, though dimmed, suffered them to see their
way very plainly, when suddenly the horses' heads were seized, and a
loud voice cried, "Stop!"
Sir Walter smiled as he heard it, saying to two men who had presented
themselves, pistol in hand, at the side of the vehicle, "You will get
little here, my good friends, for I am now, alas! a prisoner for debt."
"We know that," replied one of the men, much to the Knight's surprise,
"and we don't want your money, but we want the carriage. You must get
out as fast as possible. Quick, master coachman, down from your box! If
you don't get the horses off faster, we shall cut the traces! Take
those two fellows behind," added the same voice, "and tie them where I
told you."
According to the peremptory orders they had received, Sir Walter, his
daughter, and the maid, issued forth, and found themselves surrounded
by a number of men who were all well armed, while some horses stood
near, in a field on the top of the bank, with a group of other persons
beside them. The gentry who had stopped the carriage seemed to take
very little heed of those it had contained, and to be in urgent haste.
The only further words that were addressed to the group from Moorhurst
were by the man who had first spoken, and who, like the rest, had
something drawn over his face so as completely to conceal his features.
"Move further off," he said. "Take up your position under that bank,
and do not stir from it till we are gone."
The same personage immediately aided with his own hands in unharnessing
the horses which had brought them; this done, he turned the beasts
loose, much to the dismay of the coachman. Four others were immediately
attached to the carriage with the speed of lightning, and the same
voice then exclaimed, "Now, come down."
Two women, one of whom bore a child in her arms, instantly descended by
a path down the bank, and, without speaking, entered the carriage.
"Now, two of you," said the voice again, "carry him down. Put your
hands under his arms, to prevent hurting him."
No sooner were these words spoken, than another part of the group at
the top of the bank began to move slowly down; but no sooner had it
reached the bottom of the bank, than a new voice said, in a weak but
somewhat haughty tone, "I can walk very well now; take away your hands;
I can walk quite well." With a sudden movement, Alice took two steps
forward, and saw a man advancing to the carriage between two others,
who seemed to wish to give him assistance and support against his will.
Without uttering a word, she grasped the arm of the maid, and drew her
a step forward, pointing with her finger.
"Good God!" exclaimed the woman. But a quick gesture from her mistress
stopped her from saying more. Two or three other persons got into the
carriage. All the rest mounted their horses, except one, who sprang
upon the box. The vehicle drove rapidly off, and Sir Walter, his
daughter, and the two servants, were left alone in the road, for on
looking round for Bolland and his follower, they could see them
nowhere.