by Anonymous
CHAPTER IV.
Adversity is the only true touchstone of human worth andintegrity. It may require some limited degree of excellence, oncertain occasions, to deport ourselves becomingly in a time ofprosperity, and the smiles of the highest good fortune sometimesdistract and intoxicate. But adversity, with a relentless hand,and a determination that nothing can subdue, probes the heart tothe quick, and develops every individual quality of which it iscomposed.
The apprehension of her father on a charge of murder fell likea thunderbolt on Evaline de Neville. She was, it was true,aware that he was innocent, and that malice only prompted theproceedings that had been taken against him; but, despiteof this, she could not conceal from herself, on reflection,that he was in a situation of great peril, and that the verycircumstances which would establish his innocence with animpartial person, uncorrupted by the party excitements of thetime, would weigh most heavily against him with a jealous andprejudiced government.
Sir Edgar was a Roman Catholic; and that fact alone, though hewere ever so orderly, was sufficient to render him an objectof suspicion. But his matrimonial connexion with Spain, thegreat bulwark of the Roman Church, and a power with whichQueen Elizabeth was constantly embroiled, made suspicion moreactive, and afforded a reasonable ground for regarding him withdistrust. At a time when the members of the Roman Church weretaught, by an authority their religion declared to be infallible,that the Queen of England was no more than an usurper, and thatit would be no sin to remove her by assassination, and when theconspiracy which led to the execution of the Queen of Scots wasstill fresh in remembrance,--at this time, a Roman Catholicaccused, however unjustly, of murdering an emissary of the LordTreasurer, might well apprehend that the scales of justice wouldnot be held very evenly, or his judge be entirely free fromenmity or prejudice.
Evaline knew little of the world. Brought up in the seclusion ofNeville Grange, the spirit of the time was known to her, in mostof its bearings, only by report, and it was only from historythat she was acquainted with the depravity of human nature. Sheknew that, because she was a Roman Catholic, her influence wascircumscribed, and the sphere of her action restricted; but,beyond this, she had little personal knowledge of the policy ofstatesmen, or the injustice of governments. Still she had anidea, if an imperfect one, of the looseness and insecurity ofher position, and it was this that now raised in her those fearsfor her father, which we have sought, in the foregoing remarks,clearly to explain.
But after the first shock of the unexpected calamity hadsubsided, the whole energies of the fair girl were braced up,in all outward appearance, to but one object--the comfort andsupport of her father. Within, the struggle continued; the heavyload of grief, with its thrilling apprehensions, which timeamplified rather than reduced, still pressed upon her heart; butits rare qualities rallied under the weight, and inspired herwith strength and fortitude commensurate with the occasion.
Only in her countenance, among all the inmates of the mansion,could there be seen anything that soothed fear, or excited hope;and though its aspect was but assumed, it soon began to have aneffect on the demeanour of others. Her father, whose despondencywas chiefly occasioned by his concern for her, seemed to acquirenew vigour as he looked on her placid features, and saw that shedid not bow before the emergency in despair, but nerved herselfto meet, by his side, whatever evil was to befall. He now felthis child was a solace, instead of a source of anxiety; and foundrelief from sharing with her the burthen of adversity. In a word,he aroused himself from the moody fit which the decision of thetwo justices had brought upon him, and prepared to meet theissue, whatever it might be, with dignity and fortitude.
The example of their master and youthful mistress was not lostupon the servants, and the faces of the afflicted household,from the steward downwards, shortly wore a lighter appearance,though still a mournful one. Only the Spaniard, Don Felix diCorva, whether from the insensibility of his nature, or thestubbornness of his dejection, was unmoved by the carriage of thechief sufferers; and he became more sullen and reserved everymoment. But in the bustle attending the preparations for SirEdgar’s departure, in company with Evaline and himself, which nowengaged the general attention, his demeanour was overlooked, and,consequently, had no influence on the temper or deportment ofothers.
Evaline herself superintended the arrangements for their journey.These were, through the example of her activity, speedilycompleted, and the moment of their departure at length arrived.
The vehicle mentioned in the first chapter of this history, inthe account of the adventure with the robbers, was drawn upbefore the steps of the hall-door, and announced to be readyfor their reception. Around it was collected a group of SirEdgar’s tenants, most of whom, besides being bound to him by manyobligations, professed the same religion as he did, and, with thejealousy which persecution never fails to excite, considered thathe was now suffering for that religion, and, therefore, regardedhim with peculiar sympathy. Many of them, too, especially of thepoorer sort, had experienced the good offices of Evaline; and theremembrance of distresses that her bounty had mitigated, or ofhours of sickness that, either by her personal interposition, orby means less direct, but equally effective, her active sympathyhad relieved, gave an additional and deeper interest to the scenethat they had come to witness.
Every head was uncovered, and many a blessing, “not loud,but deep,” ejaculated in their behalf, as Sir Edgar and hisdaughter appeared at the hall-door. Neither of them spoke a wordin acknowledgment--their hearts were too full to speak;--butthey both looked round kindly on the crowd, and this, in theirestimation, was acknowledgment sufficient. They passed hastilyto the carriage, followed by Martha Follett; and, stepping in,at once took their seats in that vehicle, and closed the door.Don Felix di Corva, pursuant to a previous arrangement, mounteda saddle-horse, as did the two constables also; and, all beingsettled, the mournful cavalcade set forward for Exeter.
This was a trying moment to the afflicted inmates of thecarriage. It was the moment of separation--the parting from theirnative home--the crossing of the bourne, as it were, that dividedthem from the strife and troubles of the wide world. All thecomforts and peace of that dear abode, which habit, no less thanaffection, associated with the blithest impulses of their nature,were now to be exchanged for a prison, and the tranquillity oftheir past lives for anxiety and sorrow. They were passing fromretirement into the world--from security to peril; and theirhome had never seemed so dear to them, under any former trial orvisitation, as at that moment.
Nevertheless, they had a strong support in their mutual sympathy,and a high consolation in religion. The pang was acute at first,but, in the end, it was not without a happy effect; for the sweetfeelings that it awakened, by the similarity and harmony of theirtone, rendered the parent and his child more one being, and madethe terrors of their position seem less hideous and repulsive.
It was not till they had gone some distance on the high-road thatEvaline became any way composed. Her mind then turned on a matterwhich, in the hurry and excitement of the few past hours, she hadhardly thought of, but which she now viewed with very seriousconcern. This was the singular disappearance of HildebrandClifford, which she felt, on reflection, had exercised a materialinfluence on the position of her father.
The disappearance of Hildebrand was so exceedingly mysterious,that she could not, by any stretch of conjecture, reasonablyaccount for it. One moment, she thought that he had absentedhimself but for a few hours, as his horse, which her father hadpronounced to be a valuable one, was still at the Grange, and histravelling-case had been found unlocked in his chamber. But wouldhe, under any possible inducement, so far outrage all decorum,as to leave her father’s residence without telling any one thatsuch was his purpose? She was sure, he would not! Either, then,his absence was but temporary, and he would shortly join themagain, or he had met with some accident, which, contrary tohis inclination, detained him at a distance. Evaline did notentertain this conjecture without a great degree of uneasiness.Indeed, in the
first instance, she strove to repel it; but as shefelt certain that Hildebrand was incapable of rewarding theirhospitality and courtesy with rudeness or contempt, and she couldnot think of any other excuse for his conduct, the convictiongrew upon her, in spite of her earnest wishes for his safety,that he had met with some untoward mishap.
After dwelling on the matter for some little time, she could notrefrain from mentioning to her father, in rather a tremuloustone, what was passing in her mind.
“The cavalier who did us such good service, father, has absentedhimself somewhat mysteriously,” she observed. “I much fear he hasencountered some accident.”
“We are hardly warranted, Evaline, in holding him in suspicion,”answered Sir Edgar; “but, I confess, I cannot make his singulardisappearance look honourable. But he may, for aught we know,be some paltry adventurer, who hath more knowledge of wars thancourtesies, and is better acquainted with the customs of asoldier, which we have seen him fulfil manfully, than the habitsof a gentleman.”
“Oh no, father!” cried Evaline, with some eagerness, “thou canstnot--I am sure thou wilt not--deliberately say this of him.Whatever he may turn out, he hath always shown a very gracefulbehaviour, no less as a gentleman than a soldier.”
“Well, I think he has,” rejoined Sir Edgar. “And yet--But whatcan we think, Evaline?”
“Indeed, I know not,” said Evaline, in an earnest tone.
As she spoke, she felt a trembling hand laid timidly on her arm,and, turning round, her eye fell on Martha Follett.
“If thou art speaking of the stranger-cavalier, my lady,” saidMartha, in an under tone, “I think Don Felix knows where he is.”
“What says the girl?” inquired Sir Edgar.
“’Tis nothing, Sir,” answered Evaline. “She thought my goodcousin, Don Felix, might know where our missing guest had gone;but he hath no more knowledge of the matter than ourselves.”
“Yet the girl may speak on some grounds,” observed Sir Edgar.“What meanest thou, Martha?” he added.
“Indeed, Sir, the matter ought to be made known to thee,”answered Martha; “and though I am loth to be thought atale-bearer, I will even tell it thee myself. And ’tis onlymyself, I believe, that can tell thee all, though most of theservants know something hath happened.”
“What dost thou mean?” demanded Sir Edgar, with some impatience.
Evaline spoke not; but her eyes, which previously had beenturned the other way, were bent anxiously on Martha’s face, andmanifested the deepest interest.
“Yesterday, Sir,” said Martha, “in the afternoon, as I waspassing down the private walk of the park, I suddenly encountereda somewhat gay-looking cavalier, whom I had never, as far asI remember, seen any time before. I was passing on, when heseized my hand--I must own, not uncivilly--and begged me to takea letter which he gave me, and which was inscribed to CaptainHildebrand, to the cavalier who had rescued my master from therobbers. Before I could well give him any answer, he turnedquickly away from me, and was out of sight in a moment.”
“Well,” said Evaline, anxiously.
“When I had recovered myself, my lady,” continued Martha, “Imade all the haste I could home, and betook me to the cavalier’schamber. He was not there, but I had hardly time to lay theletter on the table, and hide me in a neighbouring closet, whenhis step was on the threshold. He espied the letter straight,and, snatching it up, he tore it open, and seemed to read itover, and over again. This done, he buckled on his sword, andpassed out to the park.”
“What hath this to do with Don Felix?” said Sir Edgar.
“Old Adam Green, Sir,” replied Martha, “who fought with theeagainst the robbers, met the cavalier in the park, and, it seems,observing something strange in his portance, had the curiosityto follow him a while. Presently, as he reports, he saw him cometo a stand, when he was joined by a man that Adam took to be therobber who escaped.”
“’Tis impossible!” exclaimed Sir Edgar.
“So I said, Sir,” resumed Martha, “and Adam, now he is sober,says himself he thinks he was mistaken. But at that time, beingamazed, he made all the haste he could towards the house, whenwho should he meet, at the end of the private walk, but DonFelix. He told his lordship what he had seen, or supposed hehad seen; and they then turned back together, under Don Felix’sdirection, to the spot where the cavaliers had met. There theysaw them in deep converse, and, parting presently, they tookleave of each other in a most friendly sort, shaking handscordially. Captain Hildebrand kept his eyes on his friend,according to Adam’s report, till he had passed out of sight, whenhe turned round, and beheld Don Felix.”
“What then?” inquired Sir Edgar.
“Don Felix, Sir,” continued Martha, “acting on the testimony ofAdam, called the captain a spy. Some further words passed, and inthe end they fought.”
“Did Felix kill him?” cried Evaline, clasping her handsconvulsively together.
“No, lady,” answered Martha; “but the captain had nearly killedDon Felix. He disarmed him; and, giving him back his sword, toldhim he spared his life, and turned away. He has not been seensince.”
There was a moment’s pause, when Evaline, in an under tone, askedher father if it would not be advisable to stop the carriage, andsee if Don Felix really knew what had become of their missingguest. Sir Edgar, however, thought such a step would be extremelyunwise, as he felt certain that Don Felix knew no more of thecavalier than was known to themselves, and, by stopping thecarriage to confer with him, they would awaken suspicion in theminds of the two constables, who doubtless had directions towatch them closely, without serving or answering any reasonablepurpose. But he expressed his determination, with some warmth,to investigate the matter thoroughly on their arrival at Exeter,and to make Don Felix account for his conduct in every individualparticular.
This was but poor satisfaction to Evaline, whose generous nature,ever ready to sympathise with the oppressed or the unhappy,was in this case more than usually alive to tender emotions,the suffering party being, in her estimation, the preserver ofher life and honour, and a person whom she knew to be possessedof many estimable qualities. Nevertheless, she did not pressher proposal on her father, but contented herself, as well asshe could, with what he had promised, being assured that he wasbetter qualified to clear up the mystery than she was, and was,moreover, as warmly interested for Hildebrand as herself.
It was dark by the time they arrived at Exeter. This made theprison, at all times a gloomy edifice, look more terrible andforbidding than it was; and hope seemed to pause before the grimand relentless frown of its portal.
A loud knock, inflicted by one of the constables, brought forththe gaoler, and caused him to open the well-secured gate.Sir Edgar and Evaline, leaving Martha in the carriage, thenalighted, and, accompanied by Don Felix, and Adam Green, hisvalet, and attended by the two constables, passed to the interiorof the prison.
An apartment was quickly prepared for Sir Edgar’s reception.Evaline could not repress a tear as she surveyed it, yet thegaoler, no less from a respect which he had for Sir Edgar’s rank,than from a conviction that he would be liberally remunerated forany kindness he might show him, had really taken some pains toset it in order, and had made it as comfortable as circumstanceswould permit.
The air struck coldly on the delicate frame of Sir Edgar, but hewould not suffer Evaline, who saw its effect upon him, and soughtto pass the night with him in the prison, to remain with him morethan a few moments, but entreated her to leave him to himselftill the morning, and endeavour to obtain some repose. A mountedservant had been despatched, immediately on their arrival inExeter, to engage for her a suitable lodging, and this had beensecured, and was now, by his report, ready for her reception.Evaline would fain have stayed with her father a short timefurther, but he so urged her to retire, that she was obliged,however reluctantly, to accede to his wishes. Before she retired,however, she reminded Sir Edgar of the promise he had made her,during their progress to Exeter, that he would strictly questionDon Feli
x concerning the disappearance of Hildebrand Clifford;and begged that he would do so without delay.
“Fear not but I will, dear,” whispered her father in reply;“though I have no hope, from all we have heard, that he knowsmore of the cavalier than we do. But good night! and God, in hisgoodness, bless and protect you, my darling!”
Evaline would not trust herself to speak; but she pressed herpale lips, cold and trembling as they were, on her father’scheek, and broke hastily away.
She had never parted from him this way before; and in the cold,dark night, to pass out of that gloomy prison, and leave himwithin, was a severe and terrible trial. As she took her seat inthe carriage, it rose before her in its blackest colours, and,unable any longer to restrain her feelings, she buried her facein her hands, and burst into tears.
She continued to weep till the carriage drew up at the doorof her hostel; for Martha, though sympathising with her mostcordially, was too deeply moved herself to offer consolationto another, and could only show her sympathy by her tears.Nevertheless, she did not suffer her distress, deep as it was, torender her forgetful of her duty, or to make her neglect thoselittle attentions which were called for by the occasion, no lessthan the custom of her office. As the carriage-door was opened,she assisted her mistress to alight, and, following her into thehouse, attended her to her chamber. Having helped her to undress,she bade her a sincere good-night, and retired.
Hope has a powerful influence over young hearts, and, in thedevelopment of this influence, often manifests a more sterlingexcellence than we are apt to suppose. It is hope--often, indeed,founded on the dictates of piety, or the whispers of reason, butstill hope--hope that we may yet, with all our afflictions, relyfor aid on the presiding hand of Providence, or that we may findcircumstances more supportable than we had thought--it is stillhope, in whatever form, that lends the soothing balm to everysorrow, and the first breath of buoyancy to every sinking heart.
When her attendant had retired, and Evaline was left wholly toherself, she opened her heart to Him who could appreciate itsexcellence: and she rose from her knees with a humble reliance onHis mercy, and submission to His will, that took from the blastof misfortune more than half its edge. As she pressed her faircheek to her pillow, she thought of the many great blessingswhich, notwithstanding the sorrow of her present situation, shestill owed to the bountiful hand of the Almighty; she rememberedthat she was yet possessed of health, station, perfectness ofbody and mind, and a liberal fortune; and out of the piousremembrance of the benefits she had received from Heaven,and which, though they might appear slight to some, reallycomprehended the chief objects of human desire, arose a hope ofbrighter days, and a promise of renewed enjoyment. The emotionawakened by her grateful sense of the favours of Providence,though of the very gentlest kind, called into action the best andnoblest feelings of her heart, and these supported her under theaffliction of the day, and nerved her with fortitude to meet themorrow.
She rose early in the morning, after a sound and refreshingsleep; and having, with the aid of Martha, fulfilled a brieftoilet, hastened to join her father. She found him alone, and,like herself, more cheerful than on the previous night. Therewas even a smile on his lip as he pressed her in his arms; andthey sat down to their morning meal, which showed no lack ofprovision, with some savour of contentment.
But Evaline had something at heart that prevented her fromeating. She forbore speaking for a time, hoping that her fatherwould mention the subject: but at last, unable to restrain herimpatience, or, to speak more correctly, her anxiety, she brokethe silence.
“Didst thou put Felix to the question, father?” she inquired.
“I did,” answered Sir Edgar, “but gleaned no more from him,in answer to my inquiries, than we knew before. He cannot evenconjecture how the cavalier hath disappeared.”
“I do fear me, Sir, he is a revengeful man,” said Evaline,hesitatingly.
“No, no, thou wrongest him,” replied Sir Edgar. “’Tis true, hehath taken a dislike to the cavalier; but ’tis because he thinks,all things regarded together, that he is one of the Governmentspies. And thou knowest, Evaline, the country is overrun withthese folk.”
“I’ll be sworn he is no spy, Sir,” said Evaline, earnestly. “Butwhere is Felix now?”
“At my desire, he has ridden over to the Grange,” answered SirEdgar, “with the view of making every possible inquiry for thecavalier, wherever there is any chance, from the little we knowof him, of obtaining the least information. Old Adam was to havegone with him; but I have, on reflection, sent him on to London,to bear the tidings of my arrest to Master Gilbert, the attorney.”
“The cavalier may have returned to the Grange, when Felix arrivesthere,” remarked Evaline. “He cannot--I am sure, he cannot be aspy.”
“Indeed, I think with thee, Evaline,” said Sir Edgar. “I begin tofear he hath met with some mischance.”
Though Evaline had feared the same thing over and over again, herfather’s utterance of these words, whether because they took herby surprise, or because of the confirmation which they affordedto her worst and least welcome expectations, shot a thrill ofthe keenest anguish through her anxious bosom. That one who,at the imminent risk of his own life, had preserved the livesof herself and her father, and afterwards so nobly spared thatof her cousin--who was so courageous, so high-minded, and soengaging--so admirably endowed both in person and heart--should,as it were, under their roof, incur the least possible hurt, wascertainly sufficient to stir and agitate the deepest springs ofher nature. If it had been herself, or even her father, who wasfar dearer to her than herself, that had received some severepersonal injury, she could not have been more concerned thanshe was for him. The longer she thought of it, and the more sheperplexed herself with conjectures on his fate, the more deeplyand painfully interesting did the subject become; and, for thefirst time in her life, she felt time a burthen, and wished toanticipate the morrow.
The day passed heavily on, and the evening, like the darknessit foretokened, “drew its slow length along.” Yet there were notidings of Don Felix. The hour at which the parent and his childmust separate, and which had all day appeared so remote andtardy, now seemed to approach too quickly: Martha and two maleservants had already come to escort Evaline to her hostel; andstill--still there was no intelligence from the Spaniard. Evalinefelt her heart beat more anxiously, when the clatter of horses’feet, which the stillness of the night reverberated from the hardroad without, struck distinctly on her ear. Before she couldmake any remark on the circumstance, the horses were drawn upbeneath the chamber-window, and a loud knock was inflicted on thegaol-door.
“’Tis Felix!” cried Evaline, starting up.
“Be patient, dear,” said Sir Edgar, twining his arm round herslender waist. “Thou art too anxious. Thou tremblest like anaspen.”
Evaline made no reply: she did not seek even to release herwaist, by which her emotion had been betrayed, from her father’sclasp; but, in this position, waited whatever intelligence mightbe about to be communicated.
She was not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes, thechamber-door was opened; and the gaoler, with a show of greatdeference, introduced two cavaliers. One of these, who wasrather the taller of the two, Evaline recognised as the personwho had been associated, in his capacity of magistrate, with thevindictive Shedlock, in the inquiry which had terminated in thecommittal of her father to prison; but the other was so closelymuffled in a capacious riding-cloak, that she could not evenconjecture, from any point in his appearance, who he could be. Asthe gaoler retired, however, and left them by their four selves,he threw back his cloak, and revealed the features of HildebrandClifford.
Both Evaline and Sir Edgar gave a slight start; but theirsurprise, though greater than can well be imagined, was quicklylost in the excess of their joy. Evaline, who was the first torecover herself, could hardly place a check on her feelings, andwas almost impelled to spring to Hildebrand’s side, and revealher pleasure in the warmth of her welcome. But she re
frained fromthis procedure, though she could not repress a sweet and modestblush, bright as the feelings it expressed, which the excitementhad called from her heart, and which secretly reproached her forher eagerness and impetuosity.
But Hildebrand needed not words to assure him he was welcome.He saw at a glance, not only that he was welcome, but that hispresence afforded his two friends the very highest pleasure. Hepaused but a moment, and then, with a smile on his lips, steppedgracefully forward, and presented his left hand to Sir Edgar, andhis right to Evaline.
“We meet in a gloomy place,” was all he said.
“God’s will be done!” said Sir Edgar, bowing his head.
“Hadst thou but told this gentleman, my good and honoured friend,that the hand that brought thee to such a pass was HildebrandClifford’s,” resumed Hildebrand, “thou hadst been safe in NevilleGrange, Sir Edgar. But, never care, Sir: all will go well now.”
“I knew neither his name, nor thine, my friend,” answered SirEdgar, pressing his hand.
“Mine I have told thee,” said Hildebrand. “This worthy cavalieris Sir Walter Raleigh.”
At these words, both Sir Edgar and Evaline, in spite of theconflicting feelings by which they were agitated, turned a glanceof earnest curiosity on the face of Hildebrand’s companion;and, by the respect manifested in their looks, showed that famehad truly reported to them, in common with the world at large,the honourable reputation of that distinguished name. And theman whom suspicion had regarded as a paltry adventurer, orinsinuated to be a spy, with whom no person of character couldsafely associate, was the friend and companion of Sir WalterRaleigh--one of the chief luminaries of the age. A glow of pridesuffused itself over Evaline’s cheek, as if she had received apersonal honour, apart from the share in the passing scene, insuch a vindication of Hildebrand; and when Sir Walter advanced toaccost her, she made a step forward to meet him, and presentedhim her hand unasked.
“Things cannot but go well,” said Sir Walter, pressing her handin his, “with so noble a lady, and so honourable a knight.”
“Will there be much delay, Sir?” asked Evaline, anxiously.
“Will there be any?” said Sir Edgar.
“It may be all arranged to-morrow,” answered Sir Walter. “Ourfriend here has, in the presence of two credible witnesses,made oath to a statement in my hands, which quite clears up thewhole affair. But should there be any impediment in respect toMaster Shedlock, who, I fear me, bears thee no good will, I willundertake to overrule it, and set thee at large on mine ownresponsibility. Furthermore, I will lay a true report of thematter before the Lord-Treasurer, and put a stop to all fartherproceedings.”
“Oh, thank you! thank you!” murmured Evaline.
Sir Edgar, in more courtly terms, but with the same deep feeling,also expressed his grateful sense of Sir Walter’s kindness, andhis concurrence in his arrangements. But both his and Evaline’sjoy, in its full extent, was but short-lived; for they nowfound that their intercourse with Hildebrand had no sooner beenre-established, than it was, by an unhappy necessity, to beagain interrupted. They learned that he was to set out on thefollowing morning for Carolina, with an expedition which, as wasshown in the preceding chapter, had been fitted out by Sir WalterRaleigh, and only waited the presence of Hildebrand, who was itscommander, to make sail. Evaline, in particular, was deeplyaffected by this intelligence, but she manifested her concernonly in her looks; for her voice was too much agitated, and herheart too full, under the pressure of so great a trial, to giveher feelings utterance.
Nor was Sir Edgar unmoved by the information. To a man in hissituation, the taking away of any support, however slender,left a vacuity, which could not but have a material and decidedinfluence on his fortune. Still, as neither Hildebrand nor SirWalter thought that there would be any difficulty in procuringhis immediate enlargement, and it was stated that the expeditionhad, from a variety of causes, already been delayed so long,that only its immediate despatch could prevent its being utterlyfrustrated, he refrained from uttering all he really felt, andrestricted his expressions of regret to the ordinary limits.
The cause of Hildebrand’s mysterious disappearance, whichhad afforded ground for so much suspicion and conjecture, wasexplained to the knight and his daughter by Sir Walter. Fromthat explanation, they learned that it was not his fault, as hadseemed but too apparent, that he had quitted the Grange withoutthe common ceremony of leave-taking, but rather his misfortune.A vindictive personal enemy, to whom he offered some legalobstruction, had hired two ruffians to kidnap him; and in theexecution of this project, he had been waylaid on the eveningof his disappearance, and carried off. The place in which hewas detained, however, had accidentally been discovered by SirWalter, and he had enabled him to effect his escape, and thus,for the time, to frustrate and overthrow the design of his enemy.
By the time the explanation was fully rendered, the night was,almost without the perception of the four mutual friends, prettyfar advanced, and it became necessary to resolve on parting.After taking leave of Sir Edgar, Sir Walter and Hildebrandproposed that they should not part with Evaline till they hadseen her to her hostel; and their proposal, as the hour was verylate, and she felt diffident of trusting herself abroad withonly her two servants, was gratefully embraced by Evaline, andconcurred in by Sir Edgar. All things being arranged, therefore,they set out, in company with Evaline’s attendants, in this order.
When the party reached the street, Sir Walter fell a pace or twoin the rear, and left Hildebrand and Evaline, who were foremost,to walk on by themselves. This he did, no doubt, with the bestpossible intentions, but it had not the effect he looked for onhis two young friends. It made Evaline uneasy, though she knewnot why; and Hildebrand, who had the moment before wished forsuch an occasion, was confused, and knew not how to turn it toaccount. Thus several minutes elapsed; and it was not till theyarrived in sight of the hostel, and Evaline had remarked thatthey must soon part, that he could any way collect himself.
“Dear lady,” he then said, taking up the hand that hung throughhis arm, “we part directly, and, it may be, for a long interval.May I think that thou wilt sometime bear me in remembrance?”
“I were ungrateful, Sir, ever to forget thee,” said Evaline, withsome emotion.
“No, no, but most generous to bear me in memory,” answeredHildebrand. “Howbeit, we are to part. Sir Edgar, methinks, hasnow no cause to fear, and will be set at liberty to-morrow. Butthe course of human affairs is uneven, and cannot be relied on.If, therefore, thou hast ever occasion for a ready friend, whocan do for thee more than thou wouldst be disposed to think, letthis billet--” here he drew a sealed packet from his vest--“beconveyed to the direction on its cover, and such a one will beenlisted in thy service.”
Evaline, with the hand which she had at liberty, accepted theproffered packet, but did not make any observation. Hildebrandcould not refrain from pressing her hand, which, led away by hisfeelings, he still held in his, and he fancied that the pressurewas returned. But if it were, it was done so slightly, and withsuch excessive gentleness, that it could hardly be felt, andcould not be regarded as any response.
At length they arrived at the hostel-door, and the light whichhung in the hall, falling on Evaline’s face, showed Hildebrandthat she was in tears. But, at this moment, they were joined bySir Walter, and, in a few words they both took leave of Evaline,and turned to retire.
They passed to the end of the street in silence. There, as theywere turning into the street beyond, they encountered a squadronof troopers, and they were obliged to press against the wall--forthere was no causeway to the street--in order that they mighthave room to pass. The troopers were not long in passing, and ourtwo friends, having the thoroughfare again open, then resumedtheir progress.
Meantime, the troop of horse, headed by a person in the garb ofa civilian, passed leisurely down the High-street, and proceededtowards the city-gaol. On arriving thither, they drew up in itsfront; and the civilian aforementioned, dismounting from hishorse, inflict
ed a loud and authoritative knock on the gate.
Sir Edgar de Neville was at this moment preparing to retire torest. Hearing a body of horse drawn up beneath his casement,however, and a knock that made the glass ring, as if it wouldleap out of its crazy leaden frame, inflicted on the gate, hecame to a pause. As he did so, a foreboding that the incidentwas some way connected with himself, in reference to the crime hewas charged with, insensibly stole over him, and he waited theissue with the most intense anxiety.
At last he heard some heavy steps on the adjacent stairs. Thenext moment, the door of his chamber was pushed open, and a tall,sharp-visaged man, habited in a suit of deep brown, and attendedby three soldiers, passed in. Advancing a few paces, he heldout a folded paper to Sir Edgar; and the latter, making a stepforward, took it from him, and drew it open. It was a warrantfrom Francis Walsingham, Secretary of State, ordering him to beremoved to the gaol of Newgate, in London.