CHAPTER XXV.
"Is the lion at bay? Woe, woe to the hunter that stands in his way." _Bluebeard._
Whatever were L'Estrange's faults he was no coward, and now that thehour was come, he determined to meet it like a man. He disdained thevery idea of flight, though his path to safety still was open; he hadonly to plunge behind the tapestry, descend the dark stairs, and in thelabyrinth of passages and dungeons they might as well have thought totrack the vermin that haunted the tower to their nests as to find himagain. He stood in still, brave despair! The last high thought was in awell-fought encounter to end a life of disgrace by a desperate death,and at least let the parting scene be more worthy his name than his lifehad proved. It is true his face blanched slightly when he saw thenumbers of his foes; it was not fear, but partly the feeling that by hispresent position, as a heartless tyrant preparing to do a weak andinnocent woman wrong, he had justly merited all good men's hate; partlythe sense that in a few moments he would either be slain or captive,that made his blood run back to his heart. Shame and infamy if he lived,eternal misery if he died; but it was not fear! His early days came backon his memory,--his strange life,--his love,--his rejection; hisdamnable, but now disconcerted plot,--Ellen's abhorrence,--his presentcritical position; all came back in one burning moment, and now thelast act was to be played he would show them what a desperate man hemmedin by foes was. His first thought was to shoot the Earl, who leapedforemost over the ruins. He presented the pistol at his head, andnothing but the devotion of faithful Wilton saved the Earl's life. Hepulled the trigger--the flash--the report! and not the Earl, but thebrave Wilton fell, pierced by the winged ball through his chest! A yellof fury rent the air at this outrage. Again he cocked, again hepresented; but by this time numbers had filled the room, Scroop dashedforward and threw up his arm. The ball entered the ceiling--anothermurder was stopped, but the stayer of his hand paid dearly! With ahorrid oath of rage, L'Estrange struck Scroop a murderous blow on thetemple with the empty pistol, and felled him to the ground as if he hadbeen stricken by a thunderbolt. The blood welled forth from the wound,and the scene grew terrific. Undaunted still, glutted with gore, like atiger at bay, stood the desperado. In the cold moonlight and the redglare of lanterns everything took a more horrid aspect. The white figureof Ellen in petrifaction of terror, the Satanic expression of themurderer, the vengeful glances of the assailants, made an awful picture;the worst part was the two forms, one lifeless, and one apparently so,stretched on the ground in a pool of their own blood. For an instant allwas deathly still, save the deep-drawn breaths of vengeance. The roomwas filled with smoke, which gave a misty, awful air to the whole. For amoment assaulters and assaulted stood still. It was not fear that stayedthem, but the dreadful vengeance that could not breathe out into actionsin the one party, and the rapid thoughts of what must follow next in theother. It was a pause, but for a moment, like the hush in the hurricane,and then it was broken by L'Estrange, who suddenly hit on his plan.With a bound he escaped the Earl, who rushed to meet him, nimbly avoidedthe Captain and Sir Richard, who, without showing their double conduct,easily manoeuvred so as to let him pass, and doubtless he would havealtogether escaped had it not been for the Marquis, who stood at thedoor, and when he saw him escaping interposed his giant form. Still thedesperate man kept on, but it was vain! The fawn might as well havethought to escape the lion, as L'Estrange to free himself from thefurious grip with which the young peer seized him! He struck wildly forhis face, but the Marquis threw his whole weight and strength on hisantagonist, and bent him to the ground. As falls the oak on the sapling,so fell the Marquis on L'Estrange, and in an instant weighed him down.Seizing the prostrate man by his throat, he placed his knee on hischest, and nigh pressed the breath out of his body. Still the vanquishedmade the most desperate struggles to rise and free himself from the irongrip; as well might the fabled Titans have striven to upheave the AEtneanmass that buried them beneath its rocks! He howled, he swore, his veryface grew black with passion and futile efforts to rise! Vain was thestruggle; the Marquis had too firm a hold, and as he still knelt on himsaid--
"It is vain--yield, sirrah! you bearded me once--I have you now by thethroat. Be still or I will squeeze the life from your body."
When the oppressor was thus oppressed, the first impulse of the Earl wasto rush to Ellen, who had borne up so manfully, and so bravely sustainedher character till the very last; then the reaction was too much forher; she would have fallen in a dead swoon on the floor had the Earl notinstantly caught her in his arms. He lifted her as if she had been achild, her head sinking back over his arms, and her long hair, escapedfrom its net, flowing in all the wildness of dishevelled charms, almostsweeping the ground as he carried her to the nearest sofa.
"Ellen, my own sweetest Ellen, speak, dearest--you are safe--you are inmy care--speak, darling." And he pressed his lips on her pale cheek."Quick, hasten for water--John--Musgrave--be quick, she is dying. Oh, mydarling Ellen, live, live to bless me once more."
Meanwhile the Marquis was beginning to grow weary of holding down hisfoe, who seemed momentarily gaining fresh strength. Every one wasflocking round Ellen, still in a most alarming swoon. Over her the Earlbent with indescribable fondness, chafing her temples with his hand, andcalling for water, while the Marquis as loudly called for aid.
"Here, you lazy, idle sluggards, here; help! for God's sake; I am weary;faith, I'll let him go if no one comes. Do you hear? Bedad, to be lefthere pressing down such a viper."
"Hold, I'll come; just wait a bit. There, Wentworth, is your jug ofwater; freshen her up well, she is more frightened than hurt. Patience,by G--, I'm coming; what the devil are you kicking up such a devilishrow about? Can't you keep a dog like that still with your big body?"
It was the Captain who spoke, as our readers have guessed, no doubt. Hethen went to assist the Marquis.
"Ha, that's right, keep a good grip on the hound's throat, or the dog'llbite, by G--. I've a rope, and a stout one too. Samson could never breakit, and I warrant it muzzles him. Now I'll tie up his legs; he kickslike a mule, but it is no go. Well I'm d--d, Ned; who would have thoughtyou would ever have come to this?"
During all this well feigned abuse, the Captain was busy binding thefallen man's limbs, which he did with a roughness that made him groan.
"Now, Arranmore, turn him over, stuff something in his mouth if hebites--here's a plaid to muzzle him; turn him on his back, and I'll bindthe rascal's arms. I'faith they have done damage enough already. Ceaseyour whining, you villain; I have you now, I'll tie your arms up foryou; there, is that jolly, you devil?"
So saying, he put his knees on the crossed wrists, and strained the ropeso tight it wrung a yell of agony from the hapless prisoner.
"Not so hard; remember he is a Christian, De Vere."
"A Christian, a pretty Christian, by Jove! to murder poor old Wilton,fell Scroop, and play such a trick on Ellen Ravensworth. The villain!leave him to me, I'll mend the rascal's manners."
Lord Arranmore having done his duty as he thought, rose, and strodeacross to where Ellen was, who had just come to from the swoon, and washalf-smiling, half-crying, when she found herself safe in her lover'sprotection once more.
"Do not leave me, my dear Lord Wentworth, do not leave me again."
"Never, darling: you shall never more stray from my eyes till you are myown. I will take you to the Towers. We shall see who dares, from theKing to the lowest miscreant, to take you from thence. How are you,sweet one--better--able to drive? The carriage is waiting."
"I shall be better soon; I am getting quite well. Oh, how shall I everthank you enough! But poor Mr. Scroop, and your poor Wilton, are theyreally dead?"
"I fear Wilton has seen his last of us; he died for me, and on yourbehalf, Ellen--we shall not soon forget him. His poor wife and children,it will be a sad tale for them. For Scroop, I hope that by care we mayyet cure him; he is still insensible. I must go and see what is to
bedone with unhappy L'Estrange; it was surely the devil tempted him tosuch a course."
"Unhappy young man! Deal gently with him: remember, however deeply stainedby crime, he is still our brother--still our fellow-creature,--child ofthe same God. Oh! while we hate the crime, let us pity the criminal.Remember it is only a restraining Providence keeps us from being as bad."
"Ask no mercy for him, Ellen. However your noble mind may gloss over hisattempted injuries to yourself, remember he stands amenable to the lawshe has broken. He is a murderer; he has shed man's blood, and by man hisblood must be shed too. Here, John, watch Ellen; see she has everythingto her fancy, while I go and see about Scroop, poor Wilton, and thiswretched young reprobate."
"Oh, leave me not with this bad man," cried Ellen.
"He is bound, darling, he cannot hurt you," answered the Earl, thinkingshe alluded to L'Estrange, as he walked away. "I will be back in a fewminutes, dearest."
When Arranmore had left the prisoner, the Captain whispered in his ear,"Never mind, Ned; don't I act well? It couldn't be helped; you shall notswing for it; trust me I will save you yet."
"Leave me to pay the penalty of my crimes, life is no more endurable; Iforgive you, John; I can die with my secret."
"Fool," said the Captain, "your trial would implicate me; do you think Iwill let you hang? no, no; you are too young yet to feed the gallows.Trust me for your rescue, though it will be d--d hard. What made youshoot Wilton, poor devil?"
"It was the Earl I aimed at; the rash fool saved his master, and did forhimself."
"I wish to G-- you had hit your man. But here comes Arranmore, I mustkeep up my character. Egad, how Dick Musgrave and I will laugh over ourtoddy. Ha, Arranmore, I have been trying to play the priest, and getconfession, but the villain plays the mute; the rope will find him histongue."
"He will be hung, then?"
"Not a doubt of it; as cold blooded a murder as I ever saw; poor JackWilton!"
"The Earl wants you, John."
"All right, I'll go--now for Ellen," he muttered, as he stepped across.
Ellen very nearly did for him, but his good star, as he called his luckin infamy, still shone on him, and the Earl misunderstood herexpression.
"Bad man, do you dare show your false face? more hypocritical than thewretched young man you have led astray!"
"List thee, Ellen, now you are safe; be wise and hold that tongue ofyours. Keep your thumb on this, or by G--, safe as you think yourselfyou will come to grief. Breathe not a syllable of this, and as you valueyour life betray not me. I will be reasonable. If you are silent, I giveyou my word--my plighted word--my vow, if you like--that you shall bethe Earl's wife; if you are mad enough to venture to betray me, thoughyou were kept in the Earl's sight--though you sheltered beneath hiswing--thence would I drag you: and no power shall ever stay me, nor makeyou the countess you wish to be!"
"These are not terms, you compel me; but what security have I? yourword--your oath, I do mistrust."
"Then I swear by my sword--the most sacred oath--I swear not by God,whom I believe not in; nor by the Devil, a phantom existing only in themind of priests, and priest-ridden fools; but my sword I see and feel,and by it I swear. Do you trust me?"
"I have no alternative; you shall at least see Ellen will keep herfaith. If you keep your part I will never divulge this awful secret aslong as I live, not even to my husband; and oh! may God change yourheart, unhappy infidel, and may remorse of conscience never sting youlike an adder."
"No fears of that; you are a better girl than I thought. Ah, here comesyour lord, be silent or dread me."
"Now, Ellen, dearest, take my arm, the carriage waits; I have sent a manwith the news to your father, he will be at the Towers as soon as weare. John, see the prisoner in the carriage, and he will be sent off tothe prison: I have sent a messenger to the Sheriff. Musgrave, will yousee about Wilton's remains? and Arranmore, attend to Scroop. I fear theworst in his case."
The Earl then assisted Ellen to a carriage, which was ready at the door.
"God bless you, miss, and I am right glad to see you," said old Andrew,with tears of joy standing in his eye.
Ellen thanked him warmly, and the Earl wrung the old servant's hand.They then drove off together, and if after rain the sun looks brighter,if after snow the grass greener, so after her long suspense the Earl'spresence at her side seemed sweeter, and after the long darkness ofdoubt and fear Ellen's smile seemed brighter than it had ever beenbefore.
One of the first questions she asked was after Juana, the noble girl whohad sacrificed so much for her sake.
"I have made every inquiry, darling, but she has not been seen. Herdisappearance is not the least remarkable part of this extraordinaryplot, so darkly, deeply, cleverly laid. I hope we may yet meet her, totry and express our gratitude. Oh, what a wondrous week this has been!"
"Talk not of it--let us forget past misery in present bliss, and notforget to thank Him who protected me when naught else availed. Oh! whatI thought my worst trial proved my safety. I had almost put an end to mylife. I struck, and he stopped the blade, and I thought all was over.Had he not I should have been now cold and dead. Man's extremity issurely God's opportunity."
"We should indeed be thankful. What should I have done if I had found myEllen dead?"
"And what should I have been had that fatal pistol shot not beenintercepted by faithful Wilton?"
"But let us not talk more of it, but rather of the welcome of ourfriends at home."
Whilst the Earl and Ellen drove to the Towers, the Captain lifted thebound man, and, carrying him down stairs, tossed him on the ground as ifhe had been a bundle of hay and not a human being, making him groanagain with the pain. But the Captain was aware any tenderness to the manwhom everyone was reviling would excite suspicion.
"Lay hands on the villain, and pitch him into the carriage. Wilson, youwill guard him to prison--he can't move."
"I will, right gladly: let the ruffian only attempt an escape, or any ofhis foul companions try a rescue! I am armed, by G--! and they willcatch it."
"That's like a sea-king!--mind he is put in a strong cell."
"Trust me; good-bye. I'll see you to-morrow; I shan't come out again asit is so late now."
The second carriage then drove off for Edinburgh, where the prisonerwas safely lodged in the Calton gaol. Another carriage, with theMarquis, left soon after, bearing Scroop, still insensible--indeed itwas feared his skull was fractured. Last, a sad procession left thePeel, bearing the mortal remains of Wilton for the Towers. The corpsewas laid across young Nimrod, who seemed by instinct to know his burden,and paced solemnly along. On either side rode huntsmen, or walkedforesters; and there was many a manly eye wet with tears as the_cortege_ wound over hill and dale, and at length stopped at the widow'sdoor.
Already his fate had been broken to his poor wife and young family; soit was with a wail of lamentation that they received the cold remains ofthe jolly huntsman into his neat little cottage, now no more his home,but young Wilton's, to whom the Earl had at once given his father'ssituation.
Whilst this sad spectacle drew tears from the mourners' eyes, a verydifferent scene was being enacted at the Towers, where a perfect ovationhailed Ellen's safe rescue and return. It would be impossible to relatethe joy with which the Marchioness received her back, or the welcome ofLady Florence; and when at length a carriage drove up with Mr.Ravensworth, Johnny, and Maude, the joy was indescribable, and one astranger intermeddleth not with. Ellen hung on her father's neck, andwith tears of joy he kissed his long-lost child. Johnny was wild withdelight; and Maude wept with very joy. Scroop was not overlooked; thedoctor had great hopes. By-and-by he opened his eyes; and Ellen was thefirst to press his hand and thank him--he was then left to repose.
Next day the news spread far and near, and persons of all ranks hastenedto the Towers to inquire after the lost and re-found Ellen, and youngScroop. Every exertion was made to trace Juana, but without afavourable result; and during the next week lawyers w
ere busy aboutL'Estrange's defence. His trial was soon to come on for the wilfulmurder of Wilton, and attempted murder of the Earl. All Edinburgh was onthe _qui vive_; and it was said there would not be standing-room in thecourt. If he even escaped the doom of murder, there was the abduction ofEllen, and things looked ugly for him.
At last the morning fixed for the trial came. Scroop was quite wellagain, and Ellen was nervous enough at the thought of having to appearas a witness. The whole party were at breakfast at the Towers, talkingover the approaching trial, when a special messenger arrived with thenews--The prisoner had escaped!
"Well I'm shot!" cried the Captain--"that beats all! He is a morethorough-paced villain than I thought!"
CHAPTER XXVI.
"And doubly loud, Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder cloud; And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar." _Corsair._
There is nothing like solitary confinement to bring the transgressor tohis right senses. He is shut out from all external communication, andforced to look in upon himself; his eye turns and looks inwards; he hasfree time and full scope for thought; nothing to distract, nothing towean away from self-examination; all resources are taken away butone--thought; and the solitary one has time to think both on his pastand future fate.
When Edward L'Estrange was first confined in prison, his mind was notyet settled from its passions; the whole of the first night he paced hiscell up and down, and black thoughts filled his mind. He had theCaptain's word he would be rescued,--he would yet have free scope forrevenge. He felt doubly angry; first at the total miscarriage of histime-wrought plot, secondly at the absurd delay and loss of preciousmoments he had made in his useless attempts to convince a woman againsther will. If he had only been quicker!--if he had used more despatch inthe business! Then he was vexed at being caught at so dastard anendeavour; he was vexed to think what the Captain would say,--he was nowperhaps laughing over his grog at the failure! Yet he would berescued;--he would have a sweet revenge! He would enter the Towersdisguised, and challenge the Earl to mortal combat--nay, he wouldassassinate him; he would break the proud heart of Ellen; she would notlove _him_,--he would be avenged on him she did love. Oh! how he abusedhimself for his lack of courage. If she was only once more in his power!These, and a hundred other such thoughts, coursed his mind as he marchedround his prison; and he fancied every minute he should hear the dooropen, and his liberty would be gained.
The hours of darkness fled by, and the sanguine thoughts he hadcherished during the night began to cool with the first gray dawn; hisspirits fell, a reaction took place, and his mind became less and lesssanguine, till he felt low--very low.
The excitement of the night passed away with its shades; with themorning a very different train of thoughts arose. He began to see thingsin their true light; he saw himself first an angry lover--angry becausethe girl he loved did not love him; then he had become a companion ofmen worse than himself, he had touched pitch and not escaped itsdefilement; then he had been a false friend to the Earl, a guest forwhom his noble host had sought with sorrow, and one who had been guiltyof a breach of all the laws of hospitality, and who had basely turnedhis heel against him whose bread he ate. He had sunk lower still, he hadbeen the accuser of innocence, he had filled a happy home with tears, hehad abducted a high-souled pure maiden, and had he not been stayed inhis villany he would have perhaps driven her to death; he had beencaught in his wickedness, had attempted the life of one, been themurderer of another, and a third was placed at the doors of the grave byhis hand.
What had he done all this for? a dream, a baseless vision. How could heever fancy a being so pure, so loveable, would love a thing of guiltlike him? He had lost his name, his honour, his fame; he was theoccupant of a gaol, and a felon's death and unhallowed grave were beforehim,--the fitting meed for such a crime, or rather a succession ofcrimes like his. There was one thought that still gave him some relief,and this was the thought of his rescue; he would then live to retrievehis character; he felt he could never be worthy the love, but perhaps hemight yet gain the friendship, of Ellen. He would leave for a foreignshore, change his name, achieve high renown, and come back meriting atleast the _friendship_ of one, of whose love he had now lost all hope ofbeing worthy. This was a better tone of mind, and he began not torepent, but to feel remorse for his crimes. It was the remorse of one ofthose fallen angels, who yet know no wish even of repentance.Conflicting hopes and fears too, often sinking to despair, tookpossession of his mind. His morning meal was brought,--he could notpartake of it. The day wore through, he became hungry and tired, and heate some of his prison fare; alas, to what had he brought himself! Theknowledge that others were now happy, especially one, and that his namewould only be mentioned to be reviled, was maddening; he began to hateall mankind, because he had made them justly hate him; he began to beangry at any one being happy, because he had made himself miserable. Oh!how slowly the hours passed, how he longed for night and darkness. Allwas sunshine and happiness without, all gloom and misery in his prison;and because he was wretched he felt angry because the sun shone. Wouldit were night, more congenial to his dark temperament of mind. He lookedat the barred window of his room, it was high beyond his reach and thewall was smooth. Oh! if he could only climb and look at the worldwithout, anything was better than the accursed walls of his gaol. Alittle bird settled on the bars, but it was outside; it warbled a fewnotes, and then flew away. He hated that bird, because it was happy andhe was wretched. The turnkey brought his evening meal; he was a harsh,bad-looking man, and as incommunicative as a stock; he asked him somequestions, but surly answers only he got in return. A second night came,and still no rescue. That night he slept, but his sleep was full ofhorrid dreams. Another day passed through, and still no help. He beganto despair, and thought the Captain had promised too much; he could notperform his promise, he would leave him to his fate, _he_ would be hung.Oh, horror! and yet he couldn't do so. But why not? he would not betrayhim, he had sworn that on the book of God. The Captain knew he would notperjure himself, and would leave him to be executed. What did he care?would God he had never known him. These are your worldly friends, theyleave you in the hour of necessity. Ellen would not have left him, andeven now, if he were condemned, he felt sure she would visit him in hiscondemned cell. Even that thought had bliss in it, he would see heragain. But to die like a felon, oh! it was horrible; to be a felon wasnothing, but to die one was horrible; he never would,--he would put anend to his life first, dash out his brains against the wall. Another daypassed; he became moody, and lower in spirits. The dull routine,--thesame prison fare twice a day, brought by the same ill-looking man; thesame dreadful thoughts; the same dream-scared sleep;--it was a livingdeath. He began to look forward to death as a release. Sunday came, thatevening he would have been a week in his cell. It was Sunday a fortnightago Ellen had been taken away; on Sunday a week ago he had perpetratedhis deeds of darkness, after keeping the innocent girl a week in a stillcrueller prison--for she was innocent, he deserved it; and now on Sundayhe was in solitary confinement: there was something of a retributiveprovidence in it. It did not escape him. He heard the church bells ringtheir call to the house of God; there was a time he had loved thatsound, the time when he had loved Ellen, and they went to churchtogether; now the sound was maddening to his ear, the bells rang theknell of departed bliss; they would soon ring his knell, and in afelon's grave he would rest. To-morrow his trial came on; he wouldconfess his guilt and soon all would be over.
The day was very hot,--hot to oppressiveness, and as the evening came onhe now and then heard distant peals of thunder. Criminal experiencetells us that the night before the trial is far more awful to thecriminal than the night before execution. This was the night beforeL'Estrange's trial, and he did not prove an exception to the rule. Hehad all the week determined to plead guilty, but now the trial was nearhe would not; he might be pardoned by some clever defence, and hedetermined to use it. He could no
t go to sleep that night, he paced hiscell in an agony of mind. It was then certain the Captain had desertedhim. Oh, how he hated the man! Darkness increased: now and then a fitfulglare of faint lightning glimmered through his cell; by-and-by it gotbrighter, and the thunder crashes grew louder and more distinct; it wasevident a heavy storm was wearing up. He heard the rain descend intorrents, and the vividity of the double-forked lightning, and thedetonating peals of thunder which shook the prison, shook also hisguilty mind. It seemed as if heaven spoke in wrath for the last time,and gave her final warning. It wakened something between conviction,and a desire to become better; but, alas! it was only like the breath ofa dying lamp, which wakens a ray, too soon to expire again. Somethingmuttered in his heart it was too late; it was so voice-like it made himstart, it was as if some one spoke. He sat down on his comfortless bed,and looked the picture of guilty, hopeless woe. Suddenly he heard afootstep outside his door; it was like the step of a soldier; he heardthe clanking sound of the spur. A key grated in the door, and it wasopened by the turnkey; behind him strode in a tall dark figure: thelatter person took the lamp from the turnkey, and ordering him in a lowvoice to come back in half an hour, bade him quit the cell. The door wasagain locked, the key turned, and the two alone in the prison.L'Estrange knew who it was, he felt an instinct that told him it was--itcould be--no other than the Captain. He could not see him, though he wasaware he was seen by the dark lantern. Just then a tremendous flash litup the prison, and distinctly showed him he was right in his surmise; itwas the Captain. He waited till the crackling peal ceased, and then saidin a light voice:
"Hallo, Ned, how are you, old fellow? why damme, prison fare doesn'tseem to agree with you, you are as white as a ghost; cheer up, oldfellow, I am come to rescue you!"
"Prison thoughts are worse than its fare. I am a different man since Ihave been here so long."
"Egad, you haven't turned blue, have you? Why, bless my soul, you spokejust like old Power, or some such snivelling Puritan. Come, get rid ofall this nonsense, and listen to me. I have come to get you clear ofthese quarters. Egad they don't agree with one; faugh! how close thiscell is; you must get out, and breathe the fresh air."
"I am resolved to abide the worst, Captain; thanks for all your trouble;I will be tried, condemned, and hung; the world will wag on just thesame when I am gone."
"Trash--who the devil has put this nonsense into your brains? Has theparson been here? You are right, by G--! a week in prison has changedyou a bit, I am d--d if I'd know you to be the same fellow! You sitmoping like a girl under sentence of death for murdering her child!Come, cheer up; I tell you this air is bad for any one. Egad, it ismaking me feel quite devout. Oh! d-- that accursed thunderstorm"--as abrilliant flash blazed through the cell--"hark at the rain, you and Iwill have a wet night of it."
"Is it not like the voice of God calling us to account for ourwickedness?"
"The voice of the devil! why I swear you must set up gaol chaplain. Whatin the name of Heaven has put such ideas into your brainpan? a commonbout of thunder the voice of God,--anything else?"
"Blaspheme not! leave me to my fate--hanging is too good for me; youbrought me to this--"
"And I'll bring you out of it again, one good turn deserves another! Doyou think I am as great a fool as yourself? What hangs you hangs mealso, and I am not so jolly tired of life as you are just now. Wait tillyou are out of this cursed hole, and you will get like yourself again;life is too sweet to be thrown away like a coat!"
"To you it may be sweet--all that would render it so to me is gone! Mylove is blighted--my hopes dead--the world would only be 'a widerprison;' let me end my misery with my life, and bury my shame with mybody."
"Preaching again! Look you, Ned, it is always the same accursed story,a lot of stuff talked--then you accept, and then retract, and after allgo. Now I have no time for this! you shall not be tried--norcondemned--nor hung! I have planned your escape, and by Heaven it was noeasy matter, and deuced expensive with bribes! A score of fellows areall ready to play their part, and I am d--d if you shall fail."
"How am I to escape?" said L'Estrange, beginning to feel freedom, afterall, was not to be despised; "the walls are high, the watchersvigilant."
"The walls may be as high as Heaven, and the ditches as deep as hell,and the sentinels as vigilant as Argus, but I will do them all! Pest, doyou take me for a nincompoop, or fool, or what? There, what do you thinkof that?" throwing down a coil of rope--"and of that?" flinging a fileon the ground. "Now, I know you are not a fool, and will find out theiruse and you will promise me to escape! You will find the rope longenough to reach pretty near the rocks below the prison--your windowlooks south to Arthur's Seat."
"And when I am out--where am I to go?"
"Patience, by G--! and I'll tell you. There are rocks beneath yourwindow; I took a reconnaissance of the whole yesterday; you must thenslip down the hill--go through the back slums of the Canongate, get outby Holyrood, and make for the Hunter's Bog; if you are attacked there isa pistol, and a knife for close quarters.--Egad, that was a brightflash! and here comes my man; good-night, it is now close on midnight,Bill will wait till three in the morning--it is a famous night though!raining buckets, and dark as pitch! Don't let one of those accursedflashes show you dangling by the rope, or some one might spy you. Waitfor a good blazer, and then drop like lightning, ha! ha! ha! good-nightI'll have a jolly wet ride home."
He then wrung L'Estrange's hand, telling him they would meet atPhilippi, or mayhap in Hades if there was such a place; he would findhim out if he was above ground anywhere. And, following the turnkey, heleft him to manage his escape as he best could.
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
ENDNOTES:
[A] See Note A. _Oliver Cromwell._
[B] See Note B. _Weird of the Wentworths._
[C] See Note C. _Queen's Drive._
[D] See Note D. _Switzerland._
[E] See Note E. _Devil's Bridge._
[F] See Note F. _The Towers._
[G] See Note G. _Justifiable Suicide._
[H] See Note H. _Rebecca._
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