passed. You shall have time to consider the relative advantages of the
two courses which are open to you. I should be sorry to hurry you to
a decision. I am satisfied with having stated my feelings upon the
subject, and pointed out to you the path of duty. Remember this day
month; not one word sooner."
He then rose, and I left the room, much agitated and exhausted.
This interview, all the circumstances attending it, but most
particularly the formidable expression of my uncle's countenance while
he talked, though hypothetically, of _murder_, combined to arouse all
my worst suspicions of him. I dreaded to look upon the face that
had so recently worn the appalling livery of guilt and malignity. I
regarded it with the mingled fear and loathing with which one looks
upon an object which has tortured them in a night-mare.
In a few days after the interview, the particulars of which I have
just detailed, I found a note upon my toilet-table, and on opening it
I read as follows:--
"_My Dear Lady Margaret_,
You will be, perhaps, surprised to see a strange face in your room
today. I have dismissed your Irish maid, and secured a French one to
wait upon you; a step rendered necessary by my proposing shortly to
visit the Continent with all my family.
Your faithful guardian, "_ARTHUR TYRELL_."
On inquiry, I found that my faithful attendant was actually gone, and
far on her way to the town of Galway; and in her stead there appeared
a tall, raw-boned, ill-looking, elderly Frenchwoman, whose sullen and
presuming manners seemed to imply that her vocation had never before
been that of a lady's-maid. I could not help regarding her as a
creature of my uncle's, and therefore to be dreaded, even had she been
in no other way suspicious.
Days and weeks passed away without any, even a momentary doubt upon my
part, as to the course to be pursued by me. The allotted period had
at length elapsed; the day arrived upon which I was to communicate my
decision to my uncle. Although my resolution had never for a moment
wavered, I could not shake off the dread of the approaching colloquy;
and my heart sank within me as I heard the expected summons. I had
not seen my cousin Edward since the occurrence of the grand
_éclaircissement_; he must have studiously avoided me; I suppose from
policy, it could not have been from delicacy. I was prepared for a
terrific burst of fury from my uncle, as soon as I should make known
my determination; and I not unreasonably feared that some act of
violence or of intimidation would next be resorted to. Filled with
these dreary forebodings, I fearfully opened the study door, and the
next minute I stood in my uncle's presence. He received me with
a courtesy which I dreaded, as arguing a favourable anticipation
respecting the answer which I was to give; and after some slight delay
he began by saying--
"It will be a relief to both of us, I believe, to bring this
conversation as soon as possible to an issue. You will excuse me,
then, my dear niece, for speaking with a bluntness which, under other
circumstances, would be unpardonable. You have, I am certain, given
the subject of our last interview fair and serious consideration;
and I trust that you are now prepared with candour to lay your answer
before me. A few words will suffice; we perfectly understand one
another."
He paused; and I, though feeling that I stood upon a mine which might
in an instant explode, nevertheless answered with perfect composure:
"I must now, sir, make the same reply which I did upon the last
occasion, and I reiterate the declaration which I then made, that I
never can nor will, while life and reason remain, consent to a union
with my cousin Edward."
This announcement wrought no apparent change in Sir Arthur, except
that he became deadly, almost lividly pale. He seemed lost in dark
thought for a minute, and then, with a slight effort, said, "You have
answered me honestly and directly; and you say your resolution is
unchangeable; well, would it had been otherwise--would it had been
otherwise--but be it as it is; I am satisfied."
He gave me his hand--it was cold and damp as death; under an assumed
calmness, it was evident that he was fearfully agitated. He continued
to hold my hand with an almost painful pressure, while, as if
unconsciously, seeming to forget my presence, he muttered, "Strange,
strange, strange, indeed! fatuity, helpless fatuity!" there was here a
long pause. "Madness _indeed_ to strain a cable that is rotten to
the very heart; it must break--and then--all goes." There was again
a pause of some minutes, after which, suddenly changing his voice and
manner to one of wakeful alacrity, he exclaimed,
"Margaret, my son Edward shall plague you no more. He leaves this
country to-morrow for France; he shall speak no more upon this
subject--never, never more; whatever events depended upon your answer
must now take their own course; but as for this fruitless proposal, it
has been tried enough; it can be repeated no more."
At these words he coldly suffered my hand to drop, as if to express
his total abandonment of all his projected schemes of alliance; and
certainly the action, with the accompanying words, produced upon my
mind a more solemn and depressing effect than I believed possible to
have been caused by the course which I had determined to pursue; it
struck upon my heart with an awe and heaviness which _will_ accompany
the accomplishment of an important and irrevocable act, even though
no doubt or scruple remains to make it possible that the agent should
wish it undone.
"Well," said my uncle, after a little time, "we now cease to speak
upon this topic, never to resume it again. Remember you shall have
no farther uneasiness from Edward; he leaves Ireland for France
to-morrow; this will be a relief to you; may I depend upon your
_honour_ that no word touching the subject of this interview shall
ever escape you?" I gave him the desired assurance; he said, "It is
well; I am satisfied; we have nothing more, I believe, to say upon
either side, and my presence must be a restraint upon you, I shall
therefore bid you farewell." I then left the apartment, scarcely
knowing what to think of the strange interview which had just taken
place.
On the next day my uncle took occasion to tell me that Edward had
actually sailed, if his intention had not been prevented by adverse
winds or weather; and two days after he actually produced a letter
from his son, written, as it said, _on board_, and despatched while
the ship was getting under weigh. This was a great satisfaction to me,
and as being likely to prove so, it was no doubt communicated to me by
Sir Arthur.
During all this trying period I had found infinite consolation in the
society and sympathy of my dear cousin Emily. I never, in after-life,
formed a friendship so close, so fervent, and upon which, in all its
progress, I could look back with feelings of such unalloyed pleasure,
upon whose termination I must ever dwell with so deep, so yet
unembittered a sorrow. In cheerful converse with her I soon recovered
my spirits considerably, and passed my time agreeably enough, although
still in the utmost seclusion. Matters went on smoothly enough,
although I could not help sometimes feeling a momentary, but horrible
uncertainty respecting my uncle's character; which was not altogether
unwarranted by the circumstances of the two trying interviews, the
particulars of which I have just detailed. The unpleasant impression
which these conferences were calculated to leave upon my mind was fast
wearing away, when there occurred a circumstance, slight indeed
in itself, but calculated irrepressibly to awaken all my worst
suspicions, and to overwhelm me again with anxiety and terror.
I had one day left the house with my cousin Emily, in order to take
a ramble of considerable length, for the purpose of sketching some
favourite views, and we had walked about half a mile when I perceived
that we had forgotten our drawing materials, the absence of which
would have defeated the object of our walk. Laughing at our own
thoughtlessness, we returned to the house, and leaving Emily outside,
I ran upstairs to procure the drawing-books and pencils which lay
in my bed-room. As I ran up the stairs, I was met by the tall,
ill-looking Frenchwoman, evidently a good deal flurried; "Que veut
Madame?" said she, with a more decided effort to be polite, than I
had ever known her make before. "No, no--no matter," said I, hastily
running by her in the direction of my room. "Madame," cried she, in a
high key, "restez ici s'il vous plaît, votre chambre n'est pas faite."
I continued to move on without heeding her. She was some way behind
me, and feeling that she could not otherwise prevent my entrance, for
I was now upon the very lobby, she made a desperate attempt to seize
hold of my person; she succeeded in grasping the end of my shawl,
which she drew from my shoulders, but slipping at the same time upon
the polished oak floor, she fell at full length upon the boards. A
little frightened as well as angry at the rudeness of this strange
woman, I hastily pushed open the door of my room, at which I now
stood, in order to escape from her; but great was my amazement on
entering to find the apartment preoccupied. The window was open, and
beside it stood two male figures; they appeared to be examining the
fastenings of the casement, and their backs were turned towards the
door. One of them was my uncle; they both had turned on my entrance,
as if startled; the stranger was booted and cloaked, and wore a heavy,
broad-leafed hat over his brows; he turned but for a moment, and
averted his face; but I had seen enough to convince me that he was no
other than my cousin Edward. My uncle had some iron instrument in his
hand, which he hastily concealed behind his back; and coming towards
me, said something as if in an explanatory tone; but I was too
much shocked and confounded to understand what it might be. He said
something about "_repairs_--window-frames--cold, and safety." I did
not wait, however, to ask or to receive explanations, but hastily left
the room. As I went down stairs I thought I heard the voice of
the Frenchwoman in all the shrill volubility of excuse, and others
uttering suppressed but vehement imprecations, or what seemed to me to
be such.
I joined my cousin Emily quite out of breath. I need not say that my
head was too full of other things to think much of drawing for that
day. I imparted to her frankly the cause of my alarms, but, at
the same time, as gently as I could; and with tears she promised
vigilance, devotion, and love. I never had reason for a moment to
repent the unreserved confidence which I then reposed in her. She was
no less surprised than I at the unexpected appearance of Edward, whose
departure for France neither of us had for a moment doubted, but
which was now proved by his actual presence to be nothing more than an
imposture practised, I feared, for no good end. The situation in which
I had found my uncle had very nearly removed all my doubts as to his
designs; I magnified suspicions into certainties, and dreaded night
after night that I should be murdered in my bed. The nervousness
produced by sleepless nights and days of anxious fears increased the
horrors of my situation to such a degree, that I at length wrote a
letter to a Mr. Jefferies, an old and faithful friend of my father's,
and perfectly acquainted with all his affairs, praying him, for
God's sake, to relieve me from my present terrible situation, and
communicating without reserve the nature and grounds of my suspicions.
This letter I kept sealed and directed for two or three days always
about my person, for discovery would have been ruinous, in expectation
of an opportunity, which might be safely trusted, of having it placed
in the post-office; as neither Emily nor I were permitted to pass
beyond the precincts of the demesne itself, which was surrounded by
high walls formed of dry stone, the difficulty of procuring such an
opportunity was greatly enhanced.
At this time Emily had a short conversation with her father, which she
reported to me instantly. After some indifferent matter, he had
asked her whether she and I were upon good terms, and whether I was
unreserved in my disposition. She answered in the affirmative; and
he then inquired whether I had been much surprised to find him in my
chamber on the other day. She answered that I had been both surprised
and amused. "And what did she think of George Wilson's appearance?"
"Who?" inquired she. "Oh! the architect," he answered, "who is to
contract for the repairs of the house; he is accounted a handsome
fellow." "She could not see his face," said Emily, "and she was in
such a hurry to escape that she scarcely observed him." Sir Arthur
appeared satisfied, and the conversation ended.
This slight conversation, repeated accurately to me by Emily, had the
effect of confirming, if indeed any thing was required to do so,
all that I had before believed as to Edward's actual presence; and I
naturally became, if possible, more anxious than ever to despatch the
letter to Mr. Jefferies. An opportunity at length occurred. As Emily
and I were walking one day near the gate of the demesne, a lad from
the village happened to be passing down the avenue from the house;
the spot was secluded, and as this person was not connected by service
with those whose observation I dreaded, I committed the letter to his
keeping, with strict injunctions that he should put it, without delay,
into the receiver of the town post-office; at the same time I added
a suitable gratuity, and the man having made many protestations of
punctuality, was soon out of sight. He was hardly gone when I began
to doubt my discretion in having trusted him; but I had no better
or safer means of despatching the letter, and I was not warranted in
suspecting him of such wanton dishonesty as a disposition to tamper
with it; but I could not be quite satisfied of its safety until I had
received an answer, which could not arrive for a few days. Before I
did, however, an event occurred which a little surprised me. I was
sitting in my bed-room early in the day, reading by myself, when I
heard a knock at the door. "Come in," said I, and my uncle entered the
room. "Will you excuse me," said he, "I sought you in the parlour, and
thence I have come here. I desired to say a word to you. I trust that
you have hitherto found my conduct to you such as that of a guardian
towards his ward should be." I dared not withhold my assent. "And,"
he continued, "I trust that you have not found me harsh or unjust,
and that you have perceived, my dear niece, that I have sought to make
this poor place as agreeable to you as may be?" I assented again;
and he put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew a folded paper, and
dashing it upon the table with startling emphasis he said, "Did you
write that letter?" The sudden and fearful alteration of his voice,
manner, and face, but more than all, the unexpected production of my
letter to Mr. Jefferies, which I at once recognised, so confounded and
terrified me, that I felt almost choking. I could not utter a word.
"Did you write that letter?" he repeated, with slow and intense
emphasis. "You did, liar and hypocrite. You dared to write that foul
and infamous libel; but it shall be your last. Men will universally
believe you mad, if I choose to call for an inquiry. I can make
you appear so. The suspicions expressed in this letter are the
hallucinations and alarms of a moping lunatic. I have defeated your
first attempt, madam; and by the holy God, if ever you make another,
chains, darkness, and the keeper's whip shall be your portion." With
these astounding words he left the room, leaving me almost fainting.
I was now almost reduced to despair; my last cast had failed; I had no
course left but that of escaping secretly from the castle, and placing
myself under the protection of the nearest magistrate. I felt if this
were not done, and speedily, that I should be _murdered_. No one, from
mere description, can have an idea of the unmitigated horror of my
situation; a helpless, weak, inexperienced girl, placed under the
power, and wholly at the mercy of evil men, and feeling that I had it
not in my power to escape for one moment from the malignant influences
under which I was probably doomed to fall; with a consciousness, too,
that if violence, if murder were designed, no human being would be
near to aid me; my dying shriek would be lost in void space.
I had seen Edward but once during his visit, and as I did not meet
him again, I began to think that he must have taken his departure; a
conviction which was to a certain degree satisfactory, as I regarded
his absence as indicating the removal of immediate danger. Emily also
arrived circuitously at the same conclusion, and not without good
grounds, for she managed indirectly to learn that Edward's black horse
had actually been for a day and part of a night in the castle stables,
just at the time of her brother's supposed visit. The horse had gone,
and as she argued, the rider must have departed with it.
This point being so far settled, I felt a little less uncomfortable;
when being one day alone in my bed-room, I happened to look out from
the window, and to my unutterable horror, I beheld peering through an
opposite casement, my cousin Edward's face. Had I seen the evil one
himself in bodily shape, I could not have experienced a more sickening
revulsion. I was too much appalled to move at once from the window,
but I did so soon enough to avoid his eye. He was looking fixedly down
into the narrow quadrangle upon which the window opened. I shrunk back
unperceived, to pass the rest of the day in terror and despair. I went
to my room early that night, but I was too miserable to sleep.
At about twelve o'clock, feeling very nervous, I determined to call
my cousin Emily, who slept, you will remember, in the next room, which
communicated with mine by a second door. By this private entrance I
found my way into her chamber, and without difficulty persuaded her to
return to my room and sleep with me. We accordingly lay down together,
she undressed, and I with my clothes on, for I was every moment
walking up and down the room, and felt too nervous and miserable to
think of rest or comfort. Emily was soon fast asleep, and I lay awake,
fervently longing for the first pale gleam of morning, and reckoning
every stroke of the old clock with an impatience which made every hour
appear like six.
It must have been about one o'clock when I thought I heard a slight
noise at the partition door between Emily's room and mine, as if
caused by somebody's turning the key in the lock. I held my breath,
and the same sound was repeated at the second door of my room, that
which opened upon the lobby; the sound was here distinctly caused
by the revolution of the bolt in the lock, and it was followed by a
slight pressure upon the door itself, as if to ascertain the security
of the lock. The person, whoever it might be, was probably satisfied,
for I heard the old boards of the lobby creak and strain, as if
under the weight of somebody moving cautiously over them. My sense
of hearing became unnaturally, almost painfully acute. I suppose
the imagination added distinctness to sounds vague in themselves. I
thought that I could actually hear the breathing of the person who was
slowly returning along the lobby.
At the head of the stair-case there appeared to occur a pause; and I
could distinctly hear two or three sentences hastily whispered;
the steps then descended the stairs with apparently less caution. I
ventured to walk quickly and lightly to the lobby door, and attempted
to open it; it was indeed fast locked upon the outside, as was
also the other. I now felt that the dreadful hour was come; but one
desperate expedient remained--it was to awaken Emily, and by our
united strength, to attempt to force the partition door, which was
slighter than the other, and through this to pass to the lower part of
the house, whence it might be possible to escape to the grounds, and
so to the village. I returned to the bedside, and shook Emily, but in
vain; nothing that I could do availed to produce from her more than
a few incoherent words; it was a death-like sleep. She had certainly
drunk of some narcotic, as, probably, had I also, in spite of all the
caution with which I had examined every thing presented to us to eat
or drink. I now attempted, with as little noise as possible, to force
first one door, then the other; but all in vain. I believe no strength
could have affected my object, for both doors opened inwards. I
therefore collected whatever moveables I could carry thither, and
piled them against the doors, so as to assist me in whatever attempts
I should make to resist the entrance of those without. I then returned
to the bed and endeavoured again, but fruitlessly, to awaken my
cousin. It was not sleep, it was torpor, lethargy, death. I knelt down
and prayed with an agony of earnestness; and then seating myself upon
the bed, I awaited my fate with a kind of terrible tranquillity.
I heard a faint clanking sound from the narrow court which I
have already mentioned, as if caused by the scraping of some iron
instrument against stones or rubbish. I at first determined not to
disturb the calmness which I now experienced, by uselessly watching
the proceedings of those who sought my life; but as the sounds
continued, the horrible curiosity which I felt overcame every
other emotion, and I determined, at all hazards, to gratify it. I,
therefore, crawled upon my knees to the window, so as to let the
smallest possible portion of my head appear above the sill.
The moon was shining with an uncertain radiance upon the antique grey
buildings, and obliquely upon the narrow court beneath; one side of
it was therefore clearly illuminated, while the other was lost in
obscurity, the sharp outlines of the old gables, with their nodding
clusters of ivy, being at first alone visible. Whoever or whatever
occasioned the noise which had excited my curiosity, was concealed
under the shadow of the dark side of the quadrangle. I placed my hand
over my eyes to shade them from the moonlight, which was so bright as
to be almost dazzling, and, peering into the darkness, I first dimly,
but afterwards gradually, almost with full distinctness, beheld the
form of a man engaged in digging what appeared to be a rude hole close
under the wall. Some implements, probably a shovel and pickaxe, lay
beside him, and to these he every now and then applied himself as the
nature of the ground required. He pursued his task rapidly, and with
as little noise as possible. "So," thought I, as shovelful after
shovelful, the dislodged rubbish mounted into a heap, "they are
digging the grave in which, before two hours pass, I must lie, a
cold, mangled corpse. I am _theirs_--I cannot escape." I felt as if
my reason was leaving me. I started to my feet, and in mere despair I
applied myself again to each of the two doors alternately. I strained
every nerve and sinew, but I might as well have attempted, with my
single strength, to force the building itself from its foundations. I
threw myself madly upon the ground, and clasped my hands over my eyes
as if to shut out the horrible images which crowded upon me.
The paroxysm passed away. I prayed once more with the bitter, agonised
fervour of one who feels that the hour of death is present and
inevitable. When I arose, I went once more to the window and looked
out, just in time to see a shadowy figure glide stealthily along the
wall. The task was finished. The catastrophe of the tragedy must soon
be accomplished. I determined now to defend my life to the last; and
that I might be able to do so with some effect, I searched the room
for something which might serve as a weapon; but either through
accident, or else in anticipation of such a possibility, every thing
which might have been made available for such a purpose had been
removed.