The afternoon had been clear, and even warm. Every cloud had passed
away from the sky; and when, about a quarter to six, Eda Brandon
retired to her own room to dress for dinner, the sun, set about a
quarter of an hour before, had left the sky all studded with stars.
She was fond of seeing the heavens, and the curtains of her windows
were not drawn; so that while she sat at her toilette table, with the
maid dressing her beautiful hair, she could gaze out at the orbs of
light in the firmament, which was spread like a scroll written with
characters of fire before her eyes.
It was very dark, however, for--as the reader learned in moons will
comprehend from what was said at the beginning of this work--the fair
planet of the night had not yet risen; and as Eda continued to gaze,
there suddenly shot up through the obscurity what seemed a bright,
rushing ball of fire; then pausing, suspended as it were, in the air
for a moment, it burst into a thousand glittering sparks, which
descended slowly towards the earth again.
"What can that be?" exclaimed Eda. '"La! ma'am, it's a rocket," said
the maid. "I shouldn't wonder if it was some of those Chartist
people's signals. They are making a great stir about here just now, I
can tell you, Miss Eda; and I am getting horribly afraid for what will
happen next."
"Do you mean to say that such things are taking place in this
neighbourhood?" inquired Eda, in some surprise. "I think you must be
confounding the reports from the manufacturing districts."
"Oh! dear, no, ma'am!" replied the maid. "My brother, who is servant
with Mr. Gaspey, told me yesterday, that he had seen full fifty of
them marching across, two and two, to some of their meetings; and he
and his master both think we shall have a row. La! there goes another
rocket: it's their doings, depend upon it."
"That cannot be," answered Eda. "Those rockets are thrown up from the
sea. I should not wonder if it was some ship in distress. Open the
window, and listen if there are guns."
The maid obeyed, but all was silent, though the wind blew dead
upon the coast; and Eda, finishing her toilette, descended to the
drawing-room.
A number of the neighbouring gentry had been invited to dine at
Brandon on that day, and the table was well-nigh full. As soon as that
pause in devouring took place, which usually succeeds when people have
eaten fully sufficient to satisfy the hungry man, and have nothing
left but to pamper the epicure, conversation, which was very slack
before, became animated upon the subject of the movements which were
taking place in different parts of the country, of the designs of the
Chartists, and of the danger of 'the people's holiday' terminating in
anarchy and bloodshed.
Eda watched her uncle, for she knew well that he entertained opinions
upon political subjects very different from those of the gentlemen by
whom he was surrounded. Sir Arthur changed colour several times while
the subject was under discussion; but at length a young military man,
with somewhat rash impetuosity, exclaimed, "Depend upon it, this is a
disease that wants blood-letting. A few inches of cold iron, applied
on the first attack, will soon cut it short."
Sir Arthur fired at the speech, and replied, warmly, "My opinion is
totally different, sir. If it be a disease at all, it is one of those
that are salutary in the end, and likely to clear off a mass of evils
which have accumulated in the pursy and pampered constitution of this
country. But," he continued, in a more moderate tone, "as the opinions
at the table are very wide apart, it may be wise to avoid politics."
"Perhaps so," replied the young officer, with a courteous inclination
of the head; and the subject dropped, much to Eda's relief.
She was destined, however, in the course of that evening to meet with
a new subject of anxiety and annoyance. Lord Hadley, without actually
getting at all tipsy, took enough wine after dinner to render him
overbearing and irritable; and when Dudley seated himself beside her
for a moment in the drawing-room, and said a few words to her in a low
tone, the young peer instantly cut across their conversation, and in a
haughty and domineering manner, gave a flat contradiction to something
which his tutor had asserted.
Although of an amiable, and usually of a placable disposition, Dudley
instantly retorted in severe terms: his growing contempt for the young
peer overcoming his ordinary command over himself. Lord Hadley's words
grew high, and tones loud; Edgar Adelon and the young officer, who had
been one at the dinner-table, drew near; and the former listened with
evident satisfaction to the severe castigation which the peer received
at the hands of Mr. Dudley. It was given without loss of temper, but
yet with an unsparing and a powerful hand; and the young man, almost
furious, exposed himself every moment more and more, while the
contemptuous smile of Edgar Adelon rendered his punishment still more
bitter. The presence of Miss Brandon acted as a certain restraint; and
as the eyes of several ladies in the room turned upon them, Lord
Hadley, with a burning heart and a flushed cheek, turned away and left
the room, while Edgar, with a laugh, muttered, "It will do him good;"
and Dudley calmly resumed his conversation with Eda.
Miss Brandon, however, was herself much agitated and alarmed; and in
the course of the evening, as the company from time to time broke into
different groups, she took the opportunity of saying, at a moment when
they were unobserved, "For pity's sake, Edward, do not let the dispute
go any farther with that foolish young man. Remember, he is but a boy,
in mind at all events, and really unworthy of your notice."
"Oh! fear not, dear Eda," replied Dudley; "for your sake, if for
nothing else, I would not suffer such an idle dispute to deviate into
a direct quarrel. But the relations between him and me must be
immediately altered. As long as he thought fit to demean himself as a
gentleman and a man of honour, there seemed to be nothing degrading in
the position that I held. Now, however, the case is different."
Other persons coming up prevented their farther conversation; and when
the guests had taken their leave, Eda retired, not to rest, but to
think over events which were the cause of no slight anxiety. Slowly
undressing, she dismissed her maid, and sitting down before the table,
wrapped in her dressing-gown, meditated painfully over the probable
result. The moments often fly fast in thought as well as in activity;
and Eda, in surprise, heard a clock which stood near her door strike
one, while she was still sitting at the table. She rose to go to bed,
but at that moment a curious sound caught her ear. It seemed to
proceed from the park, and was that of a dull, heavy tramp, sometimes
sounding louder, sometimes softer, sometimes distinctly measured,
sometimes varied into a mere rustle. It struck her as very curious;
and although she tried to persuade herself that it was a herd of deer
passing over the gravel in the avenue, yet she was not satisfied, and
proceeding to a window, drew back the curtains and gazed out.
The moon was not yet to be seen in the sky, but still her approaching
light shed a certain degree of lustre before her. The night was
certainly clearer than it had appeared shortly after sunset, and the
stars were more faint and pale. From the left-hand side of the park,
moving rapidly across the wide open space in front of the house, at a
distance of not more than a hundred yards, a stream of dark human
figures was seen, tending towards the opposite side, where the stile
led down into the little valley with the stream and the old priory.
There seemed to be between two and three hundred men, principally
walking two and two; but every here and there in the line, they were
gathered into a little knot, and apparently carrying some heavy mass
upon their shoulders. At one spot within sight they halted, and one of
the burdens which they carried was shifted to the shoulders of fresh
bearers, displaying to the eyes of Eda, as the change was effected, an
object which, to imagination, looked much like the form of a man. It
seemed very heavy, however, and took at least eight or ten persons to
carry it. It required some time, too, to move it from one set of
shoulders to another; and when the party marched on again, Eda said to
herself, "This must be a train of those misguided men, the Chartists.
How bold of them to come across the park! I trust my uncle has nothing
to do with them; but I almost fear it."
Even as the thought passed through her mind, a single figure came
forth from the terrace just below her, and followed upon the track of
the others. The form, however, was too slight and graceful for that of
Sir Arthur Adelon. It was that of a young and lightly made man; and
Eda at once recognised her cousin Edgar.
The moment she did so, she threw open the window, and leaning out,
spoke to him in a low voice. "What is all this, Edgar?" she said. "Who
are those men, and what are they about?"
"I do not know, pretty cousin," he answered; "but I am going to see."
"Oh! for heaven's sake, take care," cried Eda. "You had better take no
notice of them. There were two or three hundred men, and they may
murder you."
"Pooh! pooh!" answered Edgar. "Go to bed, Eda, dear; you will catch
cold, and then somebody will scold me to-morrow;" and away he walked
after the party of men, which he also had seen from his room as he sat
meditating near the window. The intruders seemed to know the park
tolerably well, but Edgar Adelon knew it better; and cutting off an
angle here, and taking a short turn there--by a hawthorn bush, round a
clump of chestnuts, through a copse, over a rise--he contrived to come
in sight of them continually, without being seen himself, till at
length they reached the stone stile, and paused around it in an
irregular mass. The young gentleman was at that moment standing with
his back against a large horse-chestnut tree, and he could not at all
make out the man[oe]uvres that followed. Some of the men stood upon
the top of the stile, and seemed, with great labour and difficulty, to
lift a large and very weighty object over the wall. Then came another
effort of the same kind, and then the men began to pass rapidly into
the road beyond the park.
As soon as the last had disappeared, young Edgar Adelon darted out of
his place of concealment, and followed; but by the time he reached the
lane, although the moon had now risen, not a trace of the mob could be
discovered; and he was turning away to the left, when suddenly a
murmur of voices from the copse and valley below showed him the
direction which those he sought had taken. There were ways through
that copse only known to himself and the gamekeepers, unless, indeed,
some of the neighbouring poachers were as learned in its recesses; but
following one of these paths, he soon came within sight of the open
space before the old priory, and a strange scene presented itself to
his eyes. Full two hundred men were there assembled; some sitting on
fragments of the old ruin, some sauntering idly about the little
green, some bathing their hands in the stream, which sparkled not only
in the light, pure and pale, of the newly-risen moon, but in that of
two or three torches, which had by this time been lighted. In the
centre, however, there was a group of some thirty persons, more busily
employed, in the midst of whom shone the torches I have mentioned; and
by their glare, Edgar now perceived, for the first time clearly, the
heavy objects which the men had carried, and saw what they were now
doing with them. Two small field-pieces, apparently of brass, lay upon
the ground, detached from their carriages, which had been taken to
pieces, and which the mob were busily putting together. A good deal of
skill was shown in the task, and no slight eagerness appeared in the
rough, bronzed countenances of the men around, as they looked on or
assisted from time to time. The fixing the carriages together was soon
complete, and then came the more laborious work of slinging the
cannon, and adjusting them in their proper position. This was not
accomplished without difficulty, but it was at length complete; and
Edgar Adelon felt inclined to turn away and go back to the house, when
suddenly a loud voice exclaimed, "Now run them back into those dark
nooks, and gather round and hear a word or two."
Eight or ten men instantly applied themselves to drag the field-pieces
into the recesses of the building, and then came forth again,
gathering round the person who had spoken. He then placed himself upon
a large mass of fallen masonry, and in a loud, clear tone, and with
powerful and energetic language, pronounced an harangue, which gave to
Edgar Adelon the astounding information that his father was looked
upon as the leader of the rash men he saw before him, and their future
guide and support in schemes which seemed to his fresh young mind
nothing but mete madness. A part, at least, of their plans and
purposes was displayed; and with a heart filled with terror and
anxiety for his father, Edgar Adelon made his way out of the copse, to
return to Brandon House, asking himself how he should act, and
resolving to consult the priest as soon as he could see him on the
following morning.