Читать книгу The Leaguer Of Lathom - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 6

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PASSING through Prescot, and crossing the old bridge over the Mersey at Warrington, built by the first Earl of Derby, Lord Strange and his attendants rode on at a rapid pace through Daresbury to Frodsham, where they roused the host of the Bear's Paw, and halted for a few minutes to refresh their steeds.

This done, they galloped off again, and skirting the wide marshes between them and the Mersey, kept as near as they could to a range of lofty hills; then tracking the boundaries of Delamere Forest, they speeded on through Plemston and Mickle Trafford.

Day was just breaking as they approached Chester, and the castle and cathedral, with some of the loftier buildings, could be seen overtopping the walls of the ancient and picturesque city.

Shut and guarded during the night, the gates were not opened at that early hour, but it was not Lord Strange's intention to enter the city.

Turning off on the right, he crossed the Roodee, where for upwards of a century races had been run, and jousts and other chivalrous sports held, and rode on till he came to a large mansion, situated on the banks of the river Dee.

"Is the earl, my father, still alive, Hyde?" cried Lord Strange to the porter, who came forth to meet him, as he rode up to the gateway.

"He is, my lord," replied Hyde; "but I fear he is rapidly sinking."

"Heaven be thanked I am in time," exclaimed his lordship.

And, springing from his horse, he entered the house.

Few of the household had retired to rest on that night, and Lord Strange found Warburton, the butler, and three or four other servants, collected in the hall, expecting his arrival.

Warburton gave the same report of the earl's condition that Hyde, the porter, had done, stating that he had just been in his lordship's room with some chicken broth, but he would not touch it.

"Doctor Gerard, the physician, and Mr. Hargrave, the chaplain, are now with him, my lord," said the butler; "and I could tell what they thought by their looks."

"Take me at once to the chamber, Warburton," said Lord Strange.

In a large carved oak bedstead, with heavy hangings, propped up by pillows, lay the dying earl.

His countenance still retained its noble outline, but the features were thin and sharpened and of a deathly hue.

His hands were clasped upon his breast, his eyes turned upwards, and he was evidently repeating a prayer, which Mr. Hargrave, the chaplain, an elderly man, seated near the bedside, was reading to him.

The tapers that had been burning throughout the night had only just been extinguished, and the window curtains drawn back, so as to admit the light of day, but the early sunbeams that fell upon the arras and oak panels gave no cheerfulness to the room. On the contrary, they made the picture even more painful by force of contrast.

In a large easy-chair sat Doctor Gerard, apparently dozing, but ever and anon he opened his eyes to look towards the bed.

The entrance of Lord Strange was so quiet that it did not attract the earl's notice, and he remained for some moments gazing at his father.

During this interval, Doctor Gerard, receiving a sign to that effect, did not quit his seat, and Mr. Hargrave went on with the prayer.

At length Lord Strange advanced towards the bed, and taking the earl's hand said:

"Father, I am here."

Something like a smile lighted up the dying nobleman's pallid countenance.

"I knew you would come, my son," he murmured.

"Shall we leave the room, my lord?" inquired the chaplain, addressing Lord Strange. "The earl has something to say to you in private."

"I pray you do so, good Master Hargrave," said, Lord Strange. "But remain without with Doctor Gerard," he added in a lower tone.

The chaplain bowed and went out with the physician.

"We are alone, father," said Lord Strange.

"Come as near to me as you can, or you will not hear my words," said the earl, placing his arm over his son's neck, and regarding him with a loving and pitying look. "I am much troubled in mind concerning you. It seems to me that I can look into the future, and I have a sad foreboding that all your possessions will be taken from you, and that a tragical death awaits you."

"Let not that trouble you, father," said Lord Strange. "If such is my destiny, it cannot be avoided. I trust I shall be able to meet death firmly in whatever shape it may come. Be sure I shall never die dishonoured."

"But why pursue a course that appears certain to lead to this end, my son? Why sacrifice yourself for a king who rewards you with ingratitude? Retire to the Isle of Man, where you can dwell securely till this struggle is over. By taking a prominent part in it, you will gain nothing, and may lose all."

"I cannot follow your counsel, father," replied Lord Strange. "Be the consequences what they may, I will not desert the king. I should tarnish my name were I to withdraw from him now."

"Not so, my son," rejoined the earl. "The course I point out is the only one left you. The king trusts you not, but listens to your enemies, and will never believe in your professions of loyalty. 'Tis in vain, therefore, that you attempt to serve him. You have nothing but mortification and disappointment to expect. Why throw away life for one who treats you thus? Fight not against him, but fight not for him."

"I can make no promise, my lord. His majesty has just sent for me, and what he commands I shall do."

"Make any excuses rather than go to him," said the earl. "You will not disobey my dying injunctions!"

"I ought to be with his majesty now, my lord—but I am here," replied Lord Strange, somewhat evasively.

"Remain here, I charge you, my son—at least for some days after my death," said the earl, solemnly and authoritatively.

"Ask me not more than I am able to perform, father," rejoined Lord Strange, evidently a prey to conflicting emotions. "Enjoin aught I can do, and your wishes shall be fulfilled."

"My wishes have been expressed," said the earl, somewhat reproachfully; "and since you refuse to comply with them, there is no need of further speech. Oh! that you could see into the future as plainly as I can!"

"If I have offended you, father, I humbly crave your pardon," said Lord Strange.

"Nay, I have nothing to pardon, my dear son," said the dying nobleman. "My sole desire is to preserve you from danger. Take my blessing. Say farewell for me to your wife and children. Fain would I have seen them once more—but it may not be! We shall all meet in heaven."

While he uttered these words, a change came over the earl's countenance that could not be mistaken. He sank back upon the pillow and immediately expired.

Half an hour had elapsed, when the door was opened, and those outside were invited to enter the chamber of death. With the chaplain and physician were Frank Standish and Warburton, the butler. None were surprised to find that all was over.

"Let me be first to salute your lordship as Earl of Derby," said Standish, bowing deeply as he came in.

"I do not desire the title in this presence," rejoined the new earl. "Approach the bed, I pray you, good Master Hargrave, and you will see how calm my father looks. He might be in a placid slumber."

"He has died the death of the righteous," said the chaplain. "His life has been a long preparation for the final hour, and it has found him prepared."

Bending down he took the hand of the departed, and pressed his lips to it. His example was followed by the others, but no one seemed so profoundly affected as Warburton.

The new earl witnessed this touching scene in silence, and then giving some needful orders to the butler, and directing that the household should be admitted to view the body of their deceased lord, he withdrew to an adjoining chamber, where he penned a despatch to the king, acquainting him with the sad event, and adding that he hoped to join his majesty at Nottingham on the morrow.

He then wrote a few lines to his wife, and having sent off messengers with the letters, threw himself upon a couch, quite worn out with anxiety and fatigue.

After a few hours' slumber, the new Earl of Derby arose, and had an immediate conference with Mr. Hargrave.

"I am compelled to attend the king at Nottingham," he said, "and must therefore commit the management of my father's funeral to you. The body will lie in state for four days, and should I not return in that interval, you will cause it to be conveyed, without pomp or ceremony, according to the wishes of the departed, to the church of Ormskirk, there to be deposited in our family vault beneath the Derby chapel by the side of my angelic mother."

"Your lordship may rely on me," replied the chaplain. "On the fifth day, the interment shall take place at Ormskirk, as you have directed."