CHAPTER VII.
THE WOODEN CROSS.
Released in a manner so much beyond his hopes, Jack lost no time inbetaking himself to the house, where he found all quiet and himselfalone in possession. He had every reason to congratulate himself onthe success of his scheme; yet he knew he was not out of the wood.Child as he was, he saw that the woman, finding herself robbed in thatplace, must lay the blame on him; and in his dread of what wouldhappen when the pair returned, he found it impossible to remain stilla moment, but wandered from front to back, and kitchen to stairs,expecting yet dreading the first sound of their approach. When it camehe crouched in the chimney corner and held his breath, waiting for thestorm to break.
And there the woman found him when she entered. She had not expectedto see him, and she started violently, for nothing her companion hadurged had availed in the least to shake her belief in the child's darkpowers. His pale face and huddled form and his odd and elfishposition, as she came upon him, in the shadowy corner only served toconfirm and support it. She shrank away without a word, and busiedherself at the back of the house, until the boy finding himself freefrom attack took heart of grace, and little by little emerged from hisretreat.
He could not understand how he had escaped suspicion and punishment,but the fact was enough, and his spirits soon rose. He wanted noreasons. Assured of his brother's safety, and delighted to think thathe had contributed to it, he could scarcely restrain the impulse thatwould have had him hunt Frank out and share his joy with him.Fortunately, he did restrain it, however; for during the rest of theday he was the unconscious object of the strictest watchfulness.Wherever he went and whatever he did, his steps were dogged and hisactions noted, though he did not perceive it himself. The woman, by animmense effort, hid her fears, while Gridley, balanced between terrorsand fits of rage which became at times ungovernable, had the prudenceto shun the object of his hatred, and leave the task of surveillanceto her.
Accordingly, the child remained in perfect ignorance. He wentabout his small and--to the adult mind--incomprehensible employmentsin his own small fashion; playing here and there, and presentlyrendering the woman's task more easy by the completeness with which hegave himself up to rehearsing the morrow's plan. Mistress Gridleyfound him continually slipping away, and as often stalked him intocorners, where she soon learned that he had something hidden abouthim--something which he took out when he was alone, and put awaystealthily on her approach.
The woman's covetous spirit took fire afresh at this discovery, andfor the moment overcame her fears. Her eyes began to burn, her cheekgrew hot. When he sauntered away again, she watched him secretly, andby-and-by marked him down in a corner of the fold where the wall washighest. There she saw him sit down with his back to the house and hisface to the wall, and, taking something, which she could not see, fromhis clothes, begin to toy with it, stooping over it, and caressing itwith the utmost devotion.
She did not doubt that the thing he fondled in this strange fashionwas the treasure of which he had robbed her by his arts; and in atransport of anger she slipped out of the house by the back door, and,making a circuit, stole up to the corner, keeping on the farther sideof the wall. When she reached the place she paused and listened,crouching low that he might not see her. The child was mutteringsoftly to himself--muttering some monotonous unintelligible jargon,which in her ears could be nothing but a charm. The woman shuddered atthe thought, but still she persisted. Cautiously raising her eyesabove the level of the wall, she got a sight of the object he wascrooning over. It was neither gold nor cup nor treasure, but astrange-looking cross of wood!
Mistress Gridley shrank away, trembling in every limb. The sightconfirmed all her apprehensions. She hurried back to the house. But inthe excitement of the pursuit she had not noticed the change in thesky, which had grown in the last few moments dark and overcast. Thefirst peal of the tempest, therefore, surprised her as she retreated.Startled and affrighted, she looked up and saw the black canopyimpending over her head; with a cry, she crouched still lower, as ifshe might in that way escape the wrath she had invoked. Her nerveswere so shaken that she never doubted the child had brought thissudden storm upon her, and even when it did her no harm, when itresolved itself into the most ordinary phenomenon and descended insheets of rain, while the mountains clothed themselves in mist, andthe moor streamed at a hundred pores--even then, though she had seensuch a storm a hundred times and knew its every aspect, she stillquailed. A terror of great darkness was upon her. She dared no longermeet the child's eyes, but sat in the farthest corner of the room,furtively watching him; while the eaves dripped outside, and the coldlight of a wet summer evening stole across the moor.
When he was gone to bed and his eye withdrawn from her, she felt moreat ease. But her discomposure was still so great that Simon and Lukemust have remarked it when they returned, if they had not beenthemselves full of an anxiety which occupied their minds to theexclusion of everything else.
"This rain!" Simon cried, as he shook out his dripping cloak on thefloor and turned to take a last look through the open door. "Who wouldhave foreseen it? Who would have foreseen it, I say, this morning?Never did sky look better. Yet if it goes on through the night theywill scarcely get the guns over the hills by this road. The Generalwill be late."
"It grows more heavy," Luke answered moodily, looking out over theother's shoulder.
"Ay, and the clouds are low," Simon assented. "I never knew rain moresudden in my life, nor, surely, more untimely. There is many a manwill be damp tonight and march the slower to-morrow. Heaven grant ithinders the malignants also!"
"The wind is westerly," Luke answered shrewdly. "I doubt it."
Simon shrugged his shoulders as sharing the doubt, and would haveclosed the door. But at that moment his wife, who had already risenfrom her seat, laid her hand on his arm. The hand trembled. Thewoman's eyes were glittering, her cheeks white. "Simon!" she said,peering into his face, and speaking in a tone of suppressedexcitement, "what is it--this storm? Whom does it hinder? What does itmatter? What was it you were saying about it?"
"What does it matter, and whom does it hinder?" the man answeredfiercely. "It hinders the Lord's work, woman! It matters to allChristian men! It hinders guns and horses, men and wagons, that shouldbe at Preston to-morrow to cut off the malignant Hamilton and hisbrood. In twelve hours, if this rain continues, the road to Prestonwill be a quagmire, and the Philistines will laugh at us. But we mustrest content. It is the Lord's doing!"
"It is _not_ the Lord's doing!" she answered in a tone of surprisingemotion. "It is not his doing! It is Satan's!"
"Tush!" said her husband, harshly; but he started nevertheless at hertone. "You rave, woman!"
"It is not the Lord's doing!"--Page 138.]
"I do not rave!" she answered, throwing up her arms wildly. "I tellyou this tempest, that you talk of--I saw it raised! This hindrance--Isaw it begotten! I--I, Simon Gridley! There is one here who can brewthe storm and hush the whirlwind! There is one here beside whom yourGeneral is powerless!"
"Then he must have the devil's aid indeed!" Simon answered, with agrim chuckle. "But softly, wife, what is this?"
In rapid, hurried words, rendered weighty by the terror and beliefwhich were in her, the woman detailed what she had seen the boy do,and how the storm, of which the heavens had given so little warning,had followed immediately thereon. She could not tell them all thebases of her belief; she dared not mention the gold vessels, or thestrange scene under the yew-tree. But belief in such things isinfectious. The mystery of the locked door was still a mysteryunsolved and inexplicable. That they all knew; and nothing in thesolitary life these people had led among the fells, nothing in theharsh, narrow creed they professed, or in their custom of literallyapplying the Scriptures to everyday events, was at odds with theconclusion that the child was possessed by an evil spirit. No one inthat day was so bold as to doubt the existence of the black art. Andif at the first glance th
is helpless child seemed the most unlikely ofprofessors, the discovery that his powers were being used against thecause which they believed to be the cause of heaven, furnished aprobability which enabled them to dispense with the other. The menlooked in each other's faces uneasily. The light was waning, thecorners of the room were full of shadows. Those who felt no terrorfelt wrath, which was near akin to it. For the woman, her eyesflickered with hatred; which was only more intense because it was heldin check by abject fear.
At length Simon, whose bold and hardy spirit alone accepted the ideawith any real reluctance, rose; they had long ago formed themselvesinto a council round the table.
"Hush!" he said, raising his hand. "The rain has stopped. What do yousay to that?"
They listened and found that it was so. The eaves no longer dripped.
"If he is a wizard, he is a poor one," Simon continued, with a littlecontempt in his tone. "But if you will have it so, see here, we willwatch him. There is a power greater than his, and in the strength ofthat I do not fear him."
The woman shuddered, while Luke, who was for immediate action, repliedin a wild rhapsody, quoting the priests of Baal and the witch ofEndor, the order of the law respecting magicians, and the fate ofMagus. But Simon was firm; he was not to be moved, and in the end hisproposal was accepted. The matter was thought so momentous, however,that it was decided to consult the Edgingtons next day, and bring theminto the affair.
When all was settled Simon rose, and went to the door and threw itopen. He knew that, within a circuit of a few miles from where hestood, thousands upon thousands of soldiers were at that moment lyingunder the bare heavens, without so much as a tree to cover them; andhe had a soldier's feeling for their distresses. He saw withsatisfaction, therefore, that though the clouds still hung low, in onequarter there was a rift in them, through which the full moon wasshining out of the blue black of heaven. "It looks better," he said,as he came in again. "It will be fine to-morrow. And there is no greatharm done yet."
But, to all appearance, more rain fell during the night, for when thehousehold rose at daybreak, the hills were running with water, andevery little streamlet was musical. A fine drizzle filled the air, andobscured even the nearer surface of the moor, while fog veiled themountains and hung like a curtain before the distant prospects. Theboy eating his porridge with the others, unconscious of the strangeglances and suspicious shrinkings of which he was the object, lookedthrough the window and wondered how he was to manage his counting, andwhether it would be possible to tell horse from foot. From this histhoughts strayed to Frank. Frank must be suffering horribly in thisweather, with no roof over him, and no cloak, and no sufficient food.At the thought Jack felt his eyes fill with tears, tears which hewould fain have hidden; but he found Simon's harsh glance upon him,and whichever way he looked he could not escape it. He grew hot; hechanged color and trembled in his seat, and presently, feeling hisposition insufferable--for he longed to think, and could not do sounder eyes which seemed to read his secrets--he rose suddenly, andsidled from the room. He went, as he supposed, unnoticed, and withouta thought of evil seized his cap and left the house.
Never had the moor looked more desolate; more sad and dreary andgrey-colored. Here and there a stone stood upright, peering boldlythrough the rain; and here and there, where the fell rose, a whirl ofmist floated above the surface as the fog thickened and broke before apuff of wind. The child shivered as he looked about him; and an olderheart might have quailed. But shiver or quail, he held on. He had apurpose, and he clung to it. He knew the way to the high road, whichpassed over the moor half a league from the house, and he pressed onbravely towards it, thinking of his brother and the King, and theservice he was about to perform, until, despite the rain, his punyframe glowed all over. The thoughts in his mind were childish enough,the ideas he entertained of men and things as shadowy and unreal asthe fog about him. But the spirit and self-denial which supported himwere as real as any which animated the greatest man who that daymarched or fought for his cause.
Even the passage of an army with horse and foot and great guns couldnot in such a district draw together any large number of spectators;and the boy, saved from immediate pursuit by the fog, found himselffree to choose his position. Avoiding a group of countryfolk who hadtaken possession of a hillock which would otherwise have suited himwell, he made for a second mound that rose a hundred paces farther on,and seemed also to overlook the road. Climbing to the top of this, hesat down in the damp bracken to wait for the troops.
A sutler or two passed presently below him, some straggling horsemen,a few knots of yokels bent on satisfying their curiosity. But the daywas four hours old before the measured tramp of hoofs and the murmurof many voices, the clang of steel, and hoarse cries of commandthrilled the child with the consciousness that the time was come.Trembling with excitement, he peered over the edge of the mound. Therain had ceased for a while. There was some show of clearing in theair. The sun which had broken through the clouds struck full on thehead of the column, as it came on slowly and majestically, in a frameof steaming mist; cuirass and helmet, spur and scabbard, flashing andsparkling in the white glare.
These were the horsemen who had stemmed the pride of Rupert andshattered the Cavaliers. The boy looked and looked at them, lookeduntil the last man--a grave sergeant with a book at his belt--hadridden by him. Then he remembered himself with a sigh, and quicklydrawing out his cross, cut six nicks upon it, for the six troops ofhorse which had formed the column.
After these, three regiments of foot passed; stern, war-worn men,muddy and travel-stained, in buff coats, and with long pikes trailingbehind them. Then more troops of horse, whom he duly nicked, and thensome tumbrils, which at first the boy took for guns, but afterwardsperceived to be laden with ammunition. On all these the sun shone, notcheerfully but with a stern glare, which seemed confined to that partof the moor, so that they passed before the boy in a vision as itwere, and he notched them off in a dream. It was strange to stand sonear these thousands of marching men, to hear the murmur of theirmultitudinous voices, and the tramp of their feet, and yet to be apartfrom them and unheeded by them. For they passed in perfect order, noman stepping out of the ranks; so that at last the boy took courageand rose to his feet under their eyes.
When the tumbrils had passed the sun went in, and three regiments ofmusketeers came up, marching on one another's heels, with the rain andstorm gathering about them, and the men grumbling at the weather. Theboy notched them off, and watching for the great guns (of which nonehad passed), walked from end to end of his little platform, scanningthe road. More than one of the men who plashed along beneath himnoticed the strange figure of the boy moving against the sky.
For the fog, through which he loomed larger than life, distorted hisgestures. He seemed at times to be cursing the men below him, and attimes to be raising his hands to heaven in their behalf. The trooperswho remarked his strange figure perched above them, looked onindifferently, neither heeding nor understanding. Not so all who hadtheir eyes at that moment upon him. The watcher was also the watched;and presently, when the rain had set in steadily once more, and themist had grown so thick that he despaired of finishing his count wherehe was, and thought of descending into the road, a sudden end was putto his calculations. Something rose up behind him and dashed himviolently to the ground. Stunned and terrified, the child clung, evenin his fall, to the precious cross; in a moment it was wrenched fromhim. He cried out wildly for help, but instantly a cloak was flungover his head, and blind, and breathless, he felt himself raised fromthe ground. Some one tied his hands at the wrists and his feet at theankles; then he felt himself carried hastily off. He could scarcelybreathe, he could not struggle, he could not see. He could not evenguess what had happened to him.
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