CHAPTER IX.
THE NIGHT OF THE 23RD: IN THE GARDEN.
As we descended the terrace-steps, the horror of this task on which wewere set broke in upon me in its full significance. Above our heads,it is true, the moon sailed through a clear sky; upon the trees in theWilderness the rain-drops glistened with a sprightly brilliancy likethe silver lamps of fairies; but beneath us, on the floor of thegarden, a white mist smoked and writhed, and somewhere--somewhereunder that mist lay the dead body slain by me.
We met the mist at the line where the parterre borders on theWilderness, and walked through it knee-deep until the trees grewdense. At that point, however, we separated and moved forwardsthenceforth with an interval between us that we might the sooner endour search, and so doing we quickly lost sight of one another. I madedirectly so far as I could guess for the bushes above which I had seenthe smoke of the pistol float, but, being come near to the spot, whatwith the delusive light and the many shrubs crowding thereabouts, Icould by no means determine which was the particular one I sought.
Moreover, since I walked, as I say, knee-deep in mist, it was a veryeasy and possible thing for me to pass within an inch of the body andbe never a jot the wiser unless my foot chanced to knock on it. Iwalked, therefore, very slowly and in a great agony and desolation ofremorse. It seemed to me that his wraith was a presence in the garden,and the garden its most fitting habitation. For now that I had leftthe open, and was circled about with the boskage, I moved through aworld shadowy and fantastic. The shadows of the branches laced thefloor of mist in a grotesque pattern, and amongst them my shadow movedand moved alone, swelling and dwindling as I turned this way and thatin the moonlight; and now and again invisible beneath the mist acreeping plant would twine of a sudden about my ankle, and I wouldstop with a cry half-checked upon my lips, fancying for a moment thatit was the dead man's fingers clutching me.
Moreover, as I brushed against the boughs, the raindrops would patterfrom the leaves with the most melancholy sound that ever a man heard.To me I know they sounded like the pattering feet of little children.I remember that when the thought first struck me I groaned aloud inthe anguish of my spirit. The pattering of little children's feet, andhere was the young husband dead through me as surely as though my handhad pulled the trigger and the young wife as surely widowed! And whenI rose and continued my search, that sound pursued me. It was asthough the children ran after me, with many steps to my one stride. Iwas like the Dutch piper they tell of in story-books, who led thelittle children in a long train from Hamlin town; only those childrenlaughed and sang and played as they went, merriment in their voices,rosy expectation in their looks; but those who followed me that night,followed in the saddest silence. The only noise they made was thepattering of their feet, unborn children mutely accusing me for thatthey would never see the day. Indeed, I drank my fill of punishmentthat night.
How long it was that I wandered thus I do not know, but all at once acry rang out through the quiet. It came from some distance upon myright and was the cry of a woman. I hurried in that direction asquickly as the long wet grass allowed, and in a little I came to anopen space. Mrs. Herbert was kneeling in the centre with her arms infront of her, buried in the mist. I ran towards her, but she did notperceive me until I was within a few yards of her.
"No!" she cried suddenly, and she lifted up her arms and held themtowards me to keep me off. "Not you! Not you!" and with that shedipped her arms again into the mist and began to croon over to herselfa little tender lullaby such as mothers will sing about a cradle. Inoticed that she moved her hands, and I fancied that I understood thesignificance of the movements. For now they seemed to caress a face,now to repose upon a breast.
"Madam," I said gently, "I know that my help must be the mostunwelcome thing to you in all the world. Yet I must offer it and youmust accept it. There is no other way;" and I bent down towards theground.
"No," she cried, and with all her strength she thrust my arms aside,repulsing me. The moonlight shone in her eyes, and they glared at mewild with hatred.
"No!"--she leaned forwards over the spot protecting it--"your touchwould stain;" and with a sudden movement she caught hold of a hand, ofmine, and peered at it as though she thought to see blood there. "No,you must not----"
"But I must," I interrupted her, for her wits seemed all distraught,and I could endure this evidence of her suffering no longer. "I must,"I repeated, and in my turn I dipped my hands into the curling mist.She gave a shrill scream, as though I had laid violent hands on her,sprang to her feet, and made in a stumbling run beneath the treestowards the house. I kneeled down where she had kneeled and plunged myhands in the mist as she had done.
What they touched was a fallen tree-trunk.
I started to my feet and ran back to the house. There was no one inthe parlour. I hurried into the hall. There was no one there. I randown the road. At the gates I saw ahead of me in the darkness theflutter of a dress. I raced after it; I heard a cry, which the soundof my running provoked, and Mrs. Herbert began to run from me.
I called to her, but she only quickened her pace, and accordingly Irelaxed mine. In a little her run became a walk, and so keeping behindher I followed her to the outskirts of Keswick and then returned toBlackladies.
The house, however, was now lighted up, and the door closed. Iknocked, and one of the servants opened it to me. I did not speak tohim, but ran through the hall to the garden and resumed the search, Icontinued it until the sky in the east grew white, and after that whenthe sun had risen and the birds were singing. The mist cleared fromthe ground, and at last in the clear daylight I came again to theshrubs whither I had marched at the outset, and I saw something whichmade the hope spring again in my breast The grass for some yards wastrampled and crushed as though from a struggle. I picked up a shred oflace; it might have been torn in a struggle from a ruffle or cravat. Idropped upon my knees and searched in the grass; in a little I cameupon a pistol--it was the pistol which I had noticed in Mr. Herbert'slodging, and, moreover, it was discharged. It was he, then, who hadfired, but--but it was plain he had not fired it at himself. In afeverish haste I crawled on my knees within this trampled circle. Ifhe had been attacked, who attacked him? I needed a clue to answer methat question, and I found the clue. After a long while, it is true,but nevertheless I found it. It was no more than a metal button, but Ihad seen the like upon the uniforms of King George's officers.
I held it in my hands, turning it over and over. For, to my thinking,the mines of Golconda held no jewel half so precious. It was a sign tome that Anthony Herbert was not dead. The one pistol which had beendischarged was his own. He had been captured, and capture seemed to meso small a thing in the revulsion of my feelings. Of the reason forhis capture I did not conjecture at all; I stood with an intensefeeling of gratefulness softening at my heart and dimming my eyes.Then I remembered that there was one whose right to share my knowledgeand my gratitude I had already too long deferred. I started with allspeed for the house; the garden laughed in the sunshine as I ran, andthe flowers took on a richer beauty and sprinkled the air with asweeter perfume.
But as I neared the open space, I saw through an opening of the treesAron run from the parlour and down the steps in a great haste. Ishouted to him, and he lifted his head and seemed to look for the spotwhence the shout came. But he did not in any measure slacken his pace.I shouted again, and he caught sight of me and waved his hands. I ranon, and again he waved his hands, but with a more violent gesture. Imet him half-way across the open space of meadow.
"Quick, sir," said he, panting in a great disorder, "back--back to thetrees;" and he caught me by the flap of the coat.
I tugged the coat away.
"For God's sake, Master Lawrence, stop!"
But I was already running past him; the which he saw, and putting outa foot tripped me up without ceremony. I sprawled full length on thegrass.
"How dare you?" I spluttered out in a rage.
; "I would do as much again, sir, and more, were there the same need.Quick, sir, to the trees;" and he stooped to help me to my feet. Then,"It's too late," he whispered, and pressing me down by the shoulderdropped at my side.
"Look, Master Lawrence. Look!" and he nodded towards the house.
I saw the flash of a red-coat in the little parlour, then another andanother. The room filled with soldiers.
"Keep your head low, sir! God send they do not look this way. If onlywe had reached the trees!" And he stretched himself flat in the grassand began to wriggle and crawl towards the shelter.
"They come for me?" I whispered, imitating his example.
"Yes!" he returned. "I must needs think so."
"Why?"
"I saw them marching up the drive, and Mr."--he paused over thename--"Mr. Ashlock was with them."
"Ashlock?" I exclaimed with a start, for in the press of trouble whichthese last twelve hours had brought, I had clean forgotten the man.
"Hush!" replied Aron.
"Oh, why keep up the lie?" I answered savagely. "Call him JervasRookley and have done with it. He came with King George's soldiers,did he? Aron, or Ashlock, I take it, I should call you, when next Mr.Jervas Rookley makes up his accounts for me, he shall make them upwith his own hand, I promise you that."
The old man shook his head very sadly.
"I fear me," he agreed, "that Mr. Jervas is for something in allthis."
"For more than you know," I replied, "and indeed for more than I knowtoo as yet."
Of a sudden I remembered that evening when I had seen Jervas Rookleyenter through the parlour window.
"There is a secret way into the garden," I said, and then a newthought flashed in upon me. "It was doubtless by that way the soldierscame."
"No, sir," said Ashlock, "they came by the highroad. Else I should nothave seen them."
"True," said I, "those soldiers did, but they are not all the soldiersin Cumberland. And this secret way--you know it?"
"I know it," he answered. "But we must reach the thicket first."
I looked backwards across my shoulder. The soldiers were spreadingover the terrace. I turned my face and strained every muscle to helpme forward. Each moment I expected to hear the clink of a sabreagainst a spur, and a voice cry "Halt," or to see a shadow fall frombehind my shoulder across the grass in front. "I must not be taken," Isaid to myself, yet knew full well that I might, "I must not betaken." It was not so much the thought of my own peril that plaguedme, but rather the desire to inform Mrs. Herbert that her husband wasnot dead. It pressed upon me like a sheer necessity. I must escape.
Ashlock at my side uttered a groan.
"I can go no further, Master Lawrence," he said, and lay prone in anextremity of exhaustion, his face purple, and the veins pulsing uponit "Were I ten years younger--but I cannot."
For answer I twined my arm about his body and dragged him forward.Every muscle in his body was a-quiver, the sweat poured from hisforehead, and his chest heaved upon my arm as though it would crack;and all the while the screen of grass was close about our eyes and thesun burning upon our backs and heads. At last a shadow fell betweenthe sun and us. I stopped with a groan and let my forehead fallforward on the ground. In a trice I saw myself captured, tried,executed, and meanwhile Mrs. Herbert would sit a-weeping in Keswickfor a husband who was not dead.
"Thank God!" said Ashlock. "It is the shadow of the first tree."
I raised my head, just checking the cry of joy which sprang to mylips. A little to the left of us a great leafy branch stretched outtowards us. We crawled forward again, past a tree-trunk, then another,then another, and in a minute I was standing up behind a shrub, andAshlock was lying at my feet, his breath coming in hoarse gasps frombetween his parched lips, his eyes closed, and his whole body limp andbroken.
I peered round the shrub. The soldiers were scattered over theparterre, and then of a sudden I saw something which doubled my fears.For right across the meadow a furrow was drawn in a wavering line asthough by the clumsiest scytheman. And it led straight to this bush.In a very short while the soldiers must see it. I sprang to Ashlock.It was no less than a necessity that Ashlock should escape from thatgarden without incurring a suspicion. I needed a friend in the housefor one thing. For another I needed a messenger who could safely showhimself in Keswick.
Accordingly I raised Ashlock to his feet and supported him through thethicket until we came to the labyrinth. The secret entrance to thegarden lay in the last square of the labyrinth at the corner againstthe hillside, and had been constructed by Jervas Rookley during thelifetime of his father. It consisted of no more than a number of ironpegs driven into the interstices of the stone wall and hidden beneatha drapery of ivy. I descended first, and Ashlock followed me closely,so that if by any chance he slipped I might be able to lend him ahand. As soon as we were safely at the bottom, I said--
"Now, Ashlock, your way lies down the valley, mine up the hillside.You will get back into the house unnoticed, make sure of that! Andto-day you will ride into Keswick and take this message from me toMrs. Herbert."
I tore a page from the note-book which I carried in my pocket, andhurriedly scribbled on it, "He is not dead," and added thereto myinitials. "Now good-bye. Be instant with the message! I doubt me butit is the last order you will ever take from me," and so I turned fromhim and began running up the hillside.
Ashlock called out to me--
"Sir," he cried, "I know not where I can have news of you. It will bewell that I should know."
"You can have news of me," I replied, "at my Lord Derwentwater's, butbe careful how you come there lest you imperil him;" and of a suddenhe snatched up my hand and kissed it.
"Master Lawrence," he said in a broken voice of apology, "my fatherserved Sir John Rookley's father."
"Therefore," I interrupted, "you must serve Sir John Rookley's son. Itis very right," and I patted him gently on the shoulder. "It is justfor that reason a man serves his King. It is the house one serves, notthe man who heads it."
"But I would you were Sir John Rookley's son."
The tenderness with which he spoke cut me like a knife.
"Nay," said I, "if there were a choice to be made, you would not beright in choosing me."
I had barely ended the sentence before a cry rang out from the garden.It came, however, faintly to our ears.
"Quick!" I said. "They have come upon our tracks in the grass. Quick!That note must reach Keswick to-day, and your hand must deliver it."
With that we parted. I mounted the hillside until I came to a largeboulder, and threw myself on the ground beneath its shelter. In afever of impatience I watched Ashlock descend along the wall, and yetthe moment he had turned the corner and was clean out of my sight, Iwished him back again. I was, in truth, sunk to such a depth of shameand self-contempt as made this old servant's goodwill an extraordinaryconsolation. For now that I had had time to grow used to the knowledgethat Anthony Herbert was not dead, I began to see more clearly thewickedness of my preceding conduct.
It was, then, with a very lonely feeling that I climbed to the ridgeof Green Comb. Beneath me I could see Blackladies and its garden muchas on that morning when I first rode thither over Cold-barrow Fell.But I saw it with very different eyes. Then, proud of my entrustedmission, I had looked upon it as an instrument of loyalty, a prop,however fragile, of the cause I served and my father had served beforeme. Now it was to me a monument of failure. Here I had failed throughand through. I had proved false to Mr. Herbert; I had been juggledlike the merest fool in my service to the King. I had but to turn, andover against me I could see the very spot where I had forced JervasRookley to make his vow of concealment upon his knees, and a littlelower down the winding path, where I had come to my knees and JervasRookley had sat his horse over me. Well, I had kept faith with him, atall events, and how had he kept faith with me? The red-coats sprinkledin the garden below gave me the answer. Yes, I had kept faith withhim. It seemed to me a wonderful and astonishing thing, so deep
was myhumiliation, but it was true. I had kept faith with him, and I huggedthe thought to my very breast. In the wreck of my hopes and pride, itstood erect as you may see a single column standing amidst a pile ofruins; and perhaps, I thought, since that one column stands, if hecould but bring perseverance to the work, a man might in time rebuildthe whole.
To effect anything of this sort, however, I must needs first of allescape, and to that end I kept all the day along the hilltops, and atthe fall of the dark came down Bleaberry Fell, to the great wood thatfringes Derwentwater over against Rampsholme Island. About a mile tothe east of the wood was a fisherman's cottage with which I wassufficiently familiar, since the fisherman had ferried me over oftenenough to Lord's Island, and many another visitor to my LordDerwentwater besides, who came in a great hurry when the night wasfallen dark. To this cottage I crept, and tapping at the window-panepresently the man came out and joined me.
He asked no questions, being well practised in the habit of secrecy,but put me across to the steps and so pushed off again without a word.I thought it best not to openly knock at the door, but crept round toa room wherein I knew Lord Derwentwater was used to sit of an evening.To my inexpressible relief I saw that the windows were lighted. Iknocked on the pane; the sash was thrown up.
"Who is it?" asked Lord Derwentwater.
I set my band on the sill and climbed into the room.
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