Читать книгу Ovingdean Grange - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 10

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IT was now peep of day. The summit of the eastern downs glistened in the early sunbeams, though the nearer slopes still remained grey and sombre. Thinking that the fresh morning air would revive him, Colonel Maunsel drew aside the window curtains, and throwing open the casement, looked forth upon the garden. Animate nature was just beginning to feel the quickening influence of the God of Day. The garrulous occupants of the higher trees made the welkin ring with their cawing as they flew past in quest of their morning meal; lesser birds twittered amongst the boughs; the mavis burst from the holm-tree to dispute the first worm upon the grass-plot with the intrusive starling; pigeons were circling around the house, or alighting on the roof; lowings of oxen and other noises resounded from the farm-yard; and the tinkling of the sheep-bell was heard on the adjacent down, where might be seen the fleecy company, just released from the fold, in charge of the shepherd, and looking as grey as the turf on which they browsed.

At such an hour, and on a spot which ought to have been sacred from intrusion, the presence of an enemy was as unexpected as unwelcome. Yet as the colonel’s eye wandered over the garden, now resting upon one object, now on another, he fancied he saw a dark figure pass quickly by an arched opening in an avenue of clipped yew-trees. The noise of stealthy footsteps at the same moment reached his ear, convincing him that he was not deceived. Hastily withdrawing from the window, he took up a position enabling him to command this portion of the garden, while it did not expose him to observation. As he thus watched, a head was protruded from the end of the alley nearest the house, but it was so suddenly withdrawn that he could not tell to whom it belonged.

After waiting for several minutes without perceiving anything further of the owner of the head, the colonel turned to mention the circumstance to his son, and then found that Clavering, overcome by weariness, had thrown himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed, and was once more wrapped in slumber. Not caring to wake him, the brave old gentleman took up his sword and was on the point of descending to the garden, when a tap was heard at the door, and John Habergeon entered the room.

On learning what had occurred, John tarried not a second, but, flying down stairs, made the best of his way to the yew-tree avenue; the colonel looking on all the while from the window. John, however, started no spy from the covert, and only disturbed a pair of blackbirds in his search. Nevertheless, he extended his investigations, as far as he judged prudent, in the direction of the parsonage house, but with an equally fruitless result, and he was obliged to return to his master without any intelligence respecting the intruder. The old Cavalier was much troubled. That some one had been lurking within the garden he felt sure, for he could not doubt the evidence of his senses; and that this person came with no friendly intent was equally manifest. Danger, therefore, was to be apprehended, and must be the more carefully guarded against, inasmuch as its designs were secret.

John then related what he had done. According to his own belief, his stratagem had been perfectly successful. Old Martin Geere having been disguised in the manner arranged, the pair rode slowly up the hill-side by the rectory, and when close to the house, John halted for a moment to vociferate an adieu to the Independent minister, and was well pleased to hear a window suddenly opened, and to perceive the reverend gentleman with a nightcap on his head, look out at them. Rating them for a couple of drunken malignants, and declaring that Satan was at their heels, and would assuredly trip them up ere they had proceeded far on their journey, Increase might have favoured them with a still longer harangue, but that John interrupted him with a roar of derisive laughter, and pushed on after his companion. John and old Martin then crossed the hill, and, shaping their course in a northerly direction up the valley as if bound for Falmer, got round to the Rottingdean road, and so over the down to the little thicket at the back of the Grange, where Martin dismounted, and John, taking both horses to the stables, called up the groom and his helpmate, leading them to suppose that their young master was gone. Not having encountered any one during the ride, John had persuaded himself that his return to the stables was unnoticed, until the incident in the garden made him fear that his supposition might not be altogether correct. He now naturally enough concluded, that Increase Micklegift, suspecting an attempt to dupe him, had stolen down to the Grange to satisfy himself of the truth. If so, he could have learnt little. The wary measures taken were sufficient to mislead him. Such was the conclusion arrived at both by the colonel and John. But they agreed, that the utmost caution must be observed while they were watched by an enemy so wily as the preacher.

“It vexes me much to think that I cannot send for a surgeon to attend upon my son,” the colonel said. “There is Master Ingram of Lewes, a man well skilled in his profession, or Ralph Hoathleigh of Brightelmstone, or even old Isaac Woodruff of Rottingdean—any one of them would do; but I dare not trust them. Besides, it would excite suspicion if a surgeon were sent for.”

“No need to send for one, your honour,” the old trooper replied. “The captain’s wounds are in a fair way of healing, and his broken bones have already begun to knit together. He only wants rest and good nursing to set him up again, and he is sure of the latter, with me and gentle Mistress Dulcia to attend upon him.”

“Dulcia!” the colonel exclaimed, looking at him fixedly. “Why should she come nigh him? Saidst thou not, erewhile, that it would be safest not to let the women-folk into the secret, lest they should blab?”

“Ay, marry did I,” John rejoined; “but I did not include Mistress Dulcia amongst the tattlers. Heaven forbid! She is discretion itself, and would never breathe a word to jeopardize the captain.”

“Humph!” the colonel ejaculated. “At all events, she shall not nurse my son.”

“Then I won’t answer for his cure,” John answered, gruffly.

“Not so loud, I prithee, John. Thou wilt awake him. By Heaven, he opes his eyes!”

“Then acquaint him with your resolve.”

“What is’t, my father?” Clavering cried, from the couch.

“His honour the colonel deems it expedient that during your confinement to this chamber, you should be solely under my care, captain; as if you had not had enough of an old trooper’s rough nursing, and stood not in need of gentler care.”

“If I am to be deprived of Dulcia’s society, I will not remain here,” Clavering exclaimed, springing from the couch.

“I told your honour how it would be,” John cried, chuckling.

“Thou art in league against me, rascal,” the colonel ejaculated, shaking his hand at him. “And as to thee, Clavering, thou art a wilful and undutiful boy. A soldier should have a soldier’s attendance merely. But since thou art so weak and womanish that none save Dulcia will serve thy turn to watch over thee and tend thee, even be it as thou wilt.”

“My father!—”

“Get well as quickly as thou canst, that is all I ask.”

“Your honour hath ta’en the best way to ensure that object,” John observed.

“Hold thy peace!” the colonel cried. “Within yon closet thou wilt find all thou needest to perfect his cure: unguents of great virtue, sovran balsams, cordials, and an elixir prepared for me by my worthy friend Sir Kenelm Digby, which ought to call back the vital spark if it were on the eve of departure. Use what thou wilt; but mark me! if thy patient gets not well speedily, I’ll send for Master Ingram.”

“Nay, I shall be myself again in less than a week,” Clavering cried. “I am stronger already, and with the prospect of such attendance—”

“Peace, I say!” his father cried. “I have heard reasons enow, and have yielded against my better judgment. Aid me to attire myself,” he added to John, “and then I will leave my son master of the room. Thou wilt have to be groom of the chamber, as well as head-nurse, John, for none of the household will come nigh ye, except old Martin Geere. And now, give me my hose and doublet.”

At a somewhat later hour in the morning, though still comparatively early, Colonel Maunsel was joined in the library, whither he had repaired on going down stairs, by Mr. Beard and Dulcia, both of whom were under the impression that Clavering was gone; and one of them, at least, was much relieved by finding that such was not the case.

A bell having been rung for prayers, the greater part of the household assembled at the summons, and the clergyman read a portion of the Holy Scriptures to them; after which he knelt down, and the rest following his example, he offered up an extempore prayer for the preservation from all danger of the lord of the mansion and his son. All joined fervently in this supplication, but none more so than Dulcia.

Their devotions ended, the old Cavalier and his guests proceeded to the hall and partook of breakfast. Martin Geere was in attendance at the meal, which was of a substantial character, according to the habits of the period, and the colonel, when he could do so without observation, privily despatched him upstairs with a supply of eatables for his son. No mystery was made about John Habergeon, since his return was known to the household, and the old trooper could take care of himself in the buttery.

Breakfast over, Dulcia and her father rose to depart, when the colonel, calling the latter to him, said, in a low tone, “Go upstairs, child, to Clavering. Your society will cheer him, and help to while away the tedious hours of his captivity. You will find him in my chamber with John Habergeon. Be cautious, and, above all, arouse not Patty Whinchat’s suspicions.”

Dulcia blushingly withdrew, and Colonel Maunsel soon afterwards got up and repaired to the library.

Meanwhile, Dulcia having retired to her own room, was awaiting a favourable opportunity to visit the captive, when she was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Patty.

“Oh! I’ve seen him—I’ve seen him!” gasped the handmaiden, who looked pale and terrified.

“Seen whom?” Dulcia exclaimed, thinking naturally of Clavering.

“Why, Increase Micklegift, to be sure, madam. Who else could frighten me so much? I happened to be in the corridor just now, when he came up to me—how he got there I can’t tell!—and seizing me rudely by the arm, uttered these words in my ear: ‘Bid thy young mistress come to me without delay. I would speak to her on a matter which concerns her nearly. I will tarry for her during the space of one hour, within the churchyard. If she comes not within that time, she will ever hereafter rue her negligence. Convey my message to her at once.’ And with this he disappeared. I am sure, from his looks, he has some evil design. You won’t go, of course, madam?”

“Yes, I will, Patty,” Dulcia replied, after a moment’s reflection. “I have no fear of him. I will go at once, and you shall attend me. It may be important to others to ascertain his purpose. Give me my hood, child.”

Approving of her young mistress’s spirit, Patty made no further remonstrance, and Dulcia having quickly attired herself for the walk, the two young women left the room, crossed the entrance-hall without stoppage, passed out at the front porch, and proceeded towards the church.

As they advanced, they saw the dark figure of the Independent divine within the churchyard. Increase Micklegift had an austere and somewhat ill-favoured countenance, but his features, though large and harsh, were by no means devoid of intelligence. His eyes were dark and restless, and his singularly pale complexion contrasted forcibly with his coal-black hair, which was cropped close as the skin of a mole. He was attired in the garb of a Puritan preacher, and wore the tall sugar-loaf hat which Patty had remarked at the window on the previous night. In age Micklegift might be about thirty, and his person was tall and thin, but extremely muscular. On seeing the two damsels approach, he advanced slowly to meet them, and making a grave salutation to Dulcia, said to Patty, “Tarry by the gate, maiden, until thy mistress shall return to thee.”

He then signed to Dulcia to follow him, and walked on in silence until they turned the angle of the church, and drew near the entrance-porch, when he stood still. Patty’s inquisitive disposition might have led her to creep stealthily after them, if she had not observed a man suddenly spring over the wall on the north of the churchyard, and make his way cautiously round the tower of the sacred edifice. Patty suppressed the scream that rose to her lips on discovering that this individual was John Habergeon.

Having come to a halt, as related, Micklegift said, in a supplicatory tone, while a flush overspread his pale features, “Hearken unto me, maiden. Ever since I set eyes upon thee, my heart hath yearned towards thee. Thy charms have been a snare unto me, in which I have fallen. Yet though I have burnt with love for thee, I have not ventured to declare my passion, for I have perceived that I am an object of aversion in thy sight.”

“Forbear this discourse, sir,” Dulcia cried, “or you will drive me away from you instantly.”

“Despise me not, but pity me, maiden,” implored the preacher. “My love for thee is as a tormenting fire which consumes my very vitals. It disorders my brain, and drives me to the verge of madness. Have compassion upon me! I will be thy slave—anything thou wilt have me be—if thou wilt but love me.”

“I will hear no more,” Dulcia said, turning to depart.

“You shall hear me out,” Micklegift cried, changing his tone to one of menace, and seizing her arm. “Love, like mine, unrequited, makes a man desperate. Another has possession of your heart; but he shall not be an obstacle in my path. The malignant Clavering Maunsel is concealed in his father’s house. I know it. It is vain to attempt denial with me. The life of this traitor to the Commonwealth is in my power. I can denounce him at any moment, and I will denounce him, if you continue inflexible.” After a moment’s pause, during which he watched the impression he had made upon her, he went on: “Not only is Clavering Maunsel’s life in my power, but a word from me will consign your father to a prison, where he may rot unheeded.”

“And have you the heart to act thus against those who have never offended you, inhuman man? Have some pity for them.”

“You have no pity for me, damsel. You care not how much I suffer. Now hear my fixed determination. Either consent to become my wife, or I will use the means of vengeance placed in my hands.”

“Give me till to-morrow for consideration,” Dulcia replied.

“I will grant the time you require, on your solemn promise that you will neither give warning to Clavering, nor mention aught that has passed between us to your father, or to any other person.”

“I give the promise you exact,” she rejoined.

“Enough. To-morrow I shall expect your answer—here, at the same hour. Till then, farewell!”

Released from his gripe, the terrified damsel instantly made her escape.

“I am bound by no promise, villain,” muttered John Habergeon, who was ensconced behind the angle of the church tower, and had heard all that had passed, “and I will take means to defeat thy black design.”