"Surely my heart would have told me, and the nature within me have
revolted from such a sense of passionate love, had his cruel, his base
words been true," said Brace Norton, as he stood one evening by Merland
Park palings, watching the lights fade one by one at the Castle; for the
hour was late, and, reckless and wretched, the young man had strolled
down from the Hall, to have his evening cigar, as he had told his
anxious-eyed mother, but really to take a last farewell of the casket
which contained his treasure.
"I cannot give her up, mother," he had said to her, sadly. "I am not
ashamed to tell you how dearly I love her, and shall continue to love
her, even while all hope is at an end for me. But I cannot help it. We
do not make ourselves. They talk of schooling, or ruling, one's heart,
but what poor idiot could first have said that! He must have been
heartless himself, and never have known what it is to love."
And what could Mrs Norton say? She could but recall the past, and the
long bitter years she herself had had before she enjoyed the fruition of
her love. She lamented, grieved for the unfortunate attachment, but her
heart yearned towards the sweet girl. All the old affection of her
nature which she had felt for the mother was now given freely to the
child. But she had never been made the receptacle of her son's full
confidence; there was one thing, one bitter sentence whispered--nay,
hissed in his ear, by Sir Murray Gernon, that the young man never again
suffered to pass his lips, as, after long battling with self, he felt
convinced it was untrue.
And now he leaned lingeringly upon those park railings, watching the
light, far distant as it was, that he believed to be that which shone
from Isa's chamber, till at last it was extinct, and it was like the
crushing out of hope from his aching breast. For what was his fate?
The next day must see him far away from Merland, leaving one whom he
knew to love him, at the mercy of father and favoured suitor. True,
there was the frequent sense of her sweet kiss, the dear confession of
the love of her pure young heart, yet upon his lip; but what would they
say to her--how would they impress her with the impossibility of a
union? With no friend and adviser but that true-hearted Jane McCray,
what could the poor girl do?
Brace Norton sighed--a sigh that was almost a groan, as he felt what
must be the end; and recalling the past--the old story told him by his
mother--he seemed to see such another wedding scene as Merland church
had once before witnessed. But no; he thought he would be far away,
chained by duty to his vessel; and he should return at last, a
broken-hearted, aimless man. He would not blame her, for she would, he
knew, be forced into it, and there was no help--none!
An hour must have passed away as he stood there that dark night,
thinking of his journey on the morrow, and of his utter distaste now for
the sea life he had loved so well. Promotion, the hope of commanding
his own vessel, all the ambition of his nature, had given place to the
passionate love which pervaded his soul; and at last, after an intense,
longing gaze at the dark mass of buildings seen against the sky in
front, he was about to turn and leave the shadow of the clump of trees
that overhung the palings where he stood, when he started, and his heart
began to beat heavily, he knew not why, at the unwonted sound of a heavy
step coming down the lane. For this was but a by-way, and no one but a
keeper, or a late-returning servant from the village, would be likely to
take that path so late at night.
"I had better not be seen," thought Brace, and his face flushed with
annoyance at having to play such a hiding role, as he drew farther back
into the shade.
The step came nearer, and then suddenly grew indistinct, as the
new-comer stepped on to the turf at the lane side; but there was a faint
rustling amongst the fallen leaves, which told of whoever it was coming
nearer and nearer.
"One of the servants," muttered Brace; and then as his thoughts wandered
to the morrow--"could I not prolong my stay? could I not get increased
leave of absence? To torture myself more bitterly," he muttered the
next instant fiercely; and then he was brought back to the present by
the footsteps becoming more audible, and at last stopping close by where
he stood.
Brace Norton remained motionless, as from the shade he could
indistinctly make out the figure of a heavy-looking, muscular man, in
rough clothes, pressing forward, as it were, and gazing right in his
face.
"Discovered watching here," he thought, bitterly, "and all to be
conveyed to the baronet and my lord, as a means of disparagement, in her
hearing. Shall I bribe the scoundrel to be silent? No," he thought, "I
will not. Let him bear his pitiful news; and, if it comes to her ears
that I was watching, like a thief at midnight, she will know why. Her
poor heart will interpret my feelings, and give one beat for me."
Brace Norton's thoughts, it must be owned, were of a romantic tendency,
but, perhaps, it was excusable at such a time; and, nerving himself, he
stood perfectly motionless, waiting for the man, whoever he was, to
speak.
But it was dark; and, had it been possible, Brace Norton, as he stood
there, for some few minutes, with the new-comer apparently gazing full
in his face, would have seen that the man's gaze was vacant and strange,
and that his eyes failed to pierce the gloom around.
"At last!"
Those two words seemed to be breathed, as it were, close to Brace
Norton's ear, as, almost brushing him, the figure came close to where he
stood, listened, apparently, for a few moments, and then, drawing
himself up, climbed the low oak palings, and began to thread his way
amongst the trees.
"At last!" What did that mean? Who was this? No servant or keeper,
evidently. Was he poacher? He had no gun, and he was alone, which fact
also militated against his being burglar.
There is no concealing the fact: Brace Norton was glad of the excuse for
getting once--even but for a few minutes--close to the house, with the
hope of seeing if only her window; and, telling himself that this
nocturnal visitor could mean no good towards the inhabitants of the
Castle, he, too, softly climbed the palings, and tried to follow the
figure.
If he could only have some opportunity given him of showing his zeal--of
rescuing somebody from danger! Or could it be--was this to be--an
endeavour to carry off Isa? His heart beat swiftly, and his breath came
thick and fast for a few seconds, till his better sense prevailed, and
he smiled at the silly romance that, he told himself, he had allowed to
obtain entrance to his breast.
But, meanwhile, he had pressed cautiously on, peering anxiously before
him, and trying hard to make out the direction the figure had taken. In
vain, though: the dark shadow had passed amongst the trees, and was
gone. He tried in different directions, but with only one result--
ill-success; and, for a moment, as he stood upon the grass, listening
eagerly, he felt disposed to place all to imagination. He knew, though,
that it was not; and determining to go nearer to the house, he drew
forth his watch, and tried to make out the hour.
That, however, was impossible; so, opening it, he passed his fingers
over the hands, to find that it was after one.
Would they be sitting up for him at home? He could not help it. This
was his last night, it might be, for years--as he should try, on a
certain event happening, to avoid the place--perhaps for ever.
Suddenly a thought struck him. If the man he had seen was some
wrong-doer, and sought the house, he must, he knew, cross the bridge;
for Brace had from a distance often studied the configuration of the
grounds, and knew that from the side where he stood the bridge road was
the only way up to the mansion.
Young and active then, he started off over the short crisp turf at a
sharp run, purposely making a slight circuit, and arrived cautiously at
length by the bridge end, to find that he was too late to see the figure
pass, for he was already on the bridge, his step sounding hollowly upon
the old worn planks.
What could it mean--at that hour, too? Brace Norton hesitated no
longer; the thoughts of risk, and of being better on his way homeward,
were dismissed, and using all the caution he could, he tried to follow
the man.
But in vain the darkness prevented him from even catching another
glimpse; but that he was in the right track he knew, by coming suddenly
upon a pair of boots upon the grass, against one of which he kicked.
This seemed to point to the fact that it must be some one who well knew
the grounds, or he would not have trusted to the finding again of his
boots in the darkness. But what could it mean? Was there some
nefarious design afloat?--a robbery, for instance--and was this man in
league with more in the house?
These, and many such questions, troubled Brace Norton, as, momentarily
growing more and more excited, he strode on, avoiding flower-bed and
rustic vase, cautiously leaping gravel paths; and, at last, after
passing along two sides of the great square mansion, standing thoughtful
and discomfited.
On the side where he stood, there was on his left the old moat--the moat
which, in the front, had been expanded into the lake, advantage having
been taken of a low-lying tract of land by the baronet, to have it
flooded. The water, then, except on one side, shut in the pleasure
grounds, a wall enclosed them on the other; and, unless some door
happened to be open--which was unlikely at such an hour--the stranger
was either somewhere about the grounds, or had returned by way of the
bridge.
This last idea Brace dismissed at once, and determining that the
stranger must be on the other side of the house, he began to retrace his
steps, when his ear was saluted by a faint rustle, as of a body passing
amongst dry twigs.
Cautiously making his way in the required direction, Brace crept over
the grass for perhaps twenty yards, and then he stopped, listening
eagerly, but only to hear the loud, laboured beating of his own heart.
It must have been something more than a simple desire to satisfy his
curiosity, or to gaze up at some window which he might imagine was that
of Isa Gernon. Had he been asked, he would have owned to a strange
feeling of attraction, drawing him on and on to what proved the most
exciting adventure of his life. He knew, though, that he ran great
risks, and that, if seen, his visit was sure to be misinterpreted; but
another minute had hardly elapsed ere, like his sire in bygone days, he
could only yield to the intense desire of affording help where he
believed others were in peril.
For suddenly, from a corner of the house, where a dense mass of
evergreens made more black the shade, came a strange, low, grating
noise--a sound that he had never before heard, but which he attributed
to the right cause upon the instant; and then, going down upon hands and
knees, he tried to govern into regularity his laboured, panting
breathing, as he crept cautiously towards the spot from whence the sound
had arisen.
Book 2, Chapter XXII.
"THAT'S IT AT LAST."
Brace Norton's heart told him truly: the noise was the grating of a
diamond over glass, and it was repeated four times. Then there was a
pause, ere at the end of a few minutes came a dull, snapping noise, and
one faint tinkle as of falling glass upon the ledge of a window.
He stopped, listening attentively, for he seemed by instinct to know
what would follow; he almost seemed to pierce the black darkness ahead,
and to see an arm passed through a cut-out pane of glass--a fastening
thrust back. Yes, there was the dull snap, and now the raising of the
sash. No, it could be no sash, for there was a dull creaking as of the
rusty hinges of an old iron lattice casement. Then came a soft
rustling. Yes, that was the stranger drawing himself up, and passing
through the window.
Would he fasten it after him?
No; it was evidently left open, and all was still. It must be some one
who knew the place. What should he do? try and alarm the house? No; he
did not fear one man. There was some mystery here; and at the thought
of that word mystery, as it seemed to come with a dull impact upon his
heart, that heart throbbed and beat still more rapidly, for a strange
influence connected mystery with mystery; and Brace Norton, mad almost
with excitement, followed to where he had heard the sound, felt in the
intense darkness for the window, found it as he had expected--open, and
drawing himself up, he leaned in, and listened, half feeling that it was
but to receive a fierce blow upon the head; but, no: all was still.
"I'll risk all," muttered Brace. "My position as an officer, and my
word of honour that I was impelled by good motives, must be sufficient
to clear me from all blame."
The next minute he was in a small lobby--so he judged it to be--and
feeling gently along the wall, he soon found the open door, and stood in
what seemed to be a long stone passage--the passage, in fact, though he
knew it not, which led from the servants' offices to the grand entrance
of the house.
Should he turn to right or left? All was dark and silent; but that a
robbery was in progress he felt now sure. If, he thought, he could
seize the burglar at his work, there would be some claim again on Sir
Murray Gernon's generosity; but if he tried now to alarm the inmates,
and the burglar took flight, there was nothing but his own word to clear
him from what would look to suspicious eyes like a clandestine entry to
the Castle for reasons of his own.
Brace wavered for a few moments as he stood there listening in the black
darkness; but directly after a strange impulse moved him to proceed; and
cautiously feeling his way along, he stood at length at the foot of the
grand staircase, irresolute as to the next direction he should take.
For a few seconds he could hear nothing but the loud tick of a clock
somewhere close at hand, but directly after came a slight grating, which
he knew to be a key turning in a lock; and gliding in the direction, he
found an open door, through which he passed in time to hear a faint
ejaculation, as some one brushed against a light chair. Then came once
more the sound of key in lock, and Brace suspected that he must be in a
suite of rooms, leading one from the other.
There was furniture all around, but by means of exercising great caution
he was enabled to creep on slowly till his hand rested upon an open
door, against the edge of which he nearly struck his forehead. On
trying to the left, he found that his hand rested on a chiffonniere, his
touch displacing a china cup and saucer standing upon the marble top.
The sound was very slight, but it seemed to have alarmed the burglar,
for as Brace stood motionless behind the door, there was a faint, very
faint rustling sound, and a hard breathing coming nearer and nearer,
till, as he shrank slightly back, he could hear the dull throb, throb of
another beating heart, and he held his breath till the oppression was
fearful.
He had but to stretch forth his hand to seize this midnight visitor, but
something restrained him, and after a few minutes' pause, the rustling
and gliding sound recommenced; then came the faint rattle of a
door-handle, and this time the slight creaking of hinges.
Brace crept round the door, and passed cautiously into another room, his
every step measured with the greatest care, till, after traversing some
distance of what seemed an endless journey amongst crowded furniture, he
was almost in despair, regretting that he had not seized the man when
within his reach, for he could find no door; but a minute later, and
there was a soft rattle on his right--a sound as of some one lifting
fire-irons from their place and laying them upon a soft rug; and, guided
by the sound, Brace felt his way to another open door, and stood upon
the long-piled carpet of another room, where he could again hear the
hard breathing. There was a faint click, and what sounded like the fall
of a standard, and then once more utter silence for full a quarter of an
hour.
But at the end of that time, measured out by a chiming pendule upon the
chimney-piece, the rustling again commenced; and, as Brace cautiously
stepped two paces nearer, he could, mentally, see all that took place,
as, with nerves strained to their greatest tension, he eagerly drank in
each sound.
The rough visitor was upon his knees, moving the fender aside. Then
there was the rustling, as of the removal of paper-shavings from the
grate, and directly after the click, click of iron-work.
What could that be? What did it mean? The man must be at work at the
grate. Was he a workman, in a state of insanity or somnambulism? This
could be no burglar.
Yes, there it was again, the clicking rattle of the iron plate of a
register-stove, followed by a faint puff of air, laden with that fine,
impalpable soot from an unused chimney; and, as the excitement began to
fade, Brace smiled bitterly, with something like contempt, for the
pitiful conclusion of this romance. The man was, evidently, trying to
ascend or reach up the chimney, for he could hear him groping about
behind the iron-work; there was the rustle of little bits of falling
mortar. The hard breathing had ceased, but there was the rustling noise
of the man's lower limbs, as he seemed to be straining hard to reach
something, and at last came the sound as of his struggling down.
Brace, on smiling at the pitiful termination of his knight-errant's
quest, had crept closer and closer, until now he stood guardedly upon
one side of the fire-place, for there could be no doubt respecting the
sounds he had heard. The rustling continued for a few moments, and then
the hard panting noise recommenced, followed by an unmistakable stifled
sneeze, and directly after a voice muttered:
"Cuss the sut! But I've got it at last, though."
Got what? Brace's heart began to increase its rate, and the excitement,
he knew not why, rapidly returned, as there was the sound of an opening
box, a scratching, and a faint line of light appeared upon the fender.
"No go," muttered the voice, and again there was the opening sound, and
the scratch of a match upon the stone this time, for it commenced
burning with its faint blue fluttering light before the splint caught
fire.
At the same moment there was the sharp blowing, as of some one puffing
dust from some object--the sooty dust, light as air, being wafted right
in Brace's face. Then the splint caught fire, and blazed up for an
instant, but only to be quenched the next, as there fell, upon the young
man's ears the softly-muttered words:
"That's it at last!"
Book 2, Chapter XXIII.