CHAPTER VI.
"Now, Roger Hartup," said the young lord, as soon as the deputies weregone, "tell me more of this news. You were with the party, it seems."
"Why, yes, my lord," replied a tall, long-boned Wiltshire man, dressedin the full colours of the house of Walton, with broadsword by hisside and pistols in his belt; "Langan took me with him without sayinga word of where he was going. He told me afterwards that he wasobliged to come back for fear your lordship should need him, and thatI was to stay with the major and his troop, because I knew all thelanes and byways, and, moreover, loved playing with hand and arm."
"It was well bethought," said his master; "they might need a guide."
"I don't know, my lord," replied the servant; "but the captain of thetroop seemed to know all the hedgerows as if he had been born amongthem. But as soon as Major Randal had heard Langan's message, he gavethe order to muster and be ready in an hour. That was about half-pastone, my lord, for we had scattered the pebbles about as we went, Iwarrant, and before half-past two the troop were in their saddles, andmoving down at a brisk trot by Lumley Lane, and then at a canter overthe common. That brought us to Hill Down, where all the folks wereasleep, and then we had three miles of high-road to Rushford. As wewere crossing the brook, or rather letting the horses drink, for themajor had a care to the beasts' mouths, it being a hot night, we hearda trumpet sound Bishop's Merton way; so then he gave the order totrot, and taking the cart-road we came upon the edge of the meadows,where we could see the road up to the house and yet have shelter ofthe alders; and there we sat quite still till we saw the Roundheadrascals coming up at a walk, with a sort of animal at their head morelike a chandler than a soldier, and beside him, Dry, of Longsoaken, onhis grey mare When they got out clear upon the meadow, old Dry pointedalong towards the bottom and said something--we could not hear what hesaid, but it was like as if he told them, 'If you keep down that way,you'll get up to the house without being seen from the windows.' Themajor spoke never a word. Indeed, he spoke very little all the time,but let them go on till----"
"Was Dry still with them?" asked his master, interrupting hisdiscourse.
"Lord bless your lordship! no," answered the servant; "he left them assoon as he had pointed out the way, and trotted back. But when theywere half-across the meadows, about half a gun-shot from the alders, atrumpeter's horse of ours smelt them out, and like an undrilled beast,thinking his master was somewhat long in sounding the charge, he beganand neighed as loud as he could. Thereupon they halted, and began tolook about, as if a horse neighing was somewhat wonderful; then themajor gave the word, and we were out from the alders in a minute, anddown upon them. Your lordship has seen a plump of teal rise up from apond and whirl away all in a sweep. Well, four-fifths of them wereround in a minute, and longest legs won the day. About twenty oldfellows, with copper noses and steel caps, stood their ground,however, and fired their pistols at us, keeping all together, andshowing broadsword. But we took to steel too, and they could not bideit, but broke; and though they fought better than I ever thought tosee such crop-eared hounds fight, they were forced to follow theirfellows, though not before some seven had tasted green turf, and hadas much of it as will serve them till the world's end. Then we wheeledand followed the rest, cutting them off from the town; and, thoughthey rode hard, yet more than nine or ten had cause to wish theirspurs were better, till at length, after having chased them back toRushford, the major sent our captain, Barecolt, with thirty men, tokeep them going while he halted, and gave me ten to bring here, sayingyour lordship might need them."
"Then, did Dry, of Longsoaken, fly with them?" demanded his lord; "ordid he run back to the town?"
"I doubt that he knew of the affair at all, my lord," replied the man;"he was far down the lane before we charged. No trumpet was blown forfear of bringing the militia men from Bishop's Merton upon us, and thebanks would prevent him from seeing or hearing either."
"Then we will strike a blow at him," said Lord Walton.
The servant rubbed his hands and laughed. "That will rejoice thecockles of many a poor man's heart in Bishop's Merton," he cried. "Theold sanctified sinner is hated as much as he is feared. Why he was thecause of poor old Sergeant Neil being dragged away, and killed withbad usage; and I do believe the boys would stone him on the green ifthey knew it, for he--the old man--used to gather the lads about himon the green and tell them stories of the old wars, when Tyrone wasa rebel in Ireland and he fought under Blount, Earl of Devon, tilltheir little eyes almost came out of their heads."
"Dry was the cause, did you say?" asked the young nobleman. "I thoughtthe only cause was found in the words he spoke--that the king, if hewere well counselled, would call William of Orange to his aid, wouldraise his standard at once, march to London, proclaim martial law, andhang the two ringleaders of the parliament before the door of thehouse."
"Ay, my lord, that was the pretence," replied the servant, "though henever said all that; and they pretended, too, he knew more of what wasgoing on in the north, if he chose to speak. But the real reason was,that the old man, one day last year, when he was stronger than he wasafterwards, heard the sneaking villain saying things to poor littleArrah that were not comely, and broke his head with his staff. Drystomached the affront till the time came for his revenge, and thenbrought the men over from Devizes to take old Neil away; so I am rightglad your lordship is going to punish him on that account."
"'Tis not on that account, Roger Hartup," replied his master, gravely,"for of that I know nothing; but first, the man is a rank traitor, asthere is proof enough; and secondly, I am convinced that this firelast night was not kindled without help. There were men seen about theplace just after dark. Dry was up here upon a false pretence in themorning; and no one was near the west tower with a light. Bring me thepaper and ink, and call the lance prisade of the troop who came withthe men."
He wrote a few hasty lines while the servant was gone; and on hisreturn with a stout, broad-set soldier, the young nobleman said: "Now,sir, do you think that Major Randal will object to your executing awarrant, under my hand, for the arrest of a rank traitor in theneighbourhood?"
"I was ordered to receive your commands, my lord, and obey them,"replied the soldier. "But the major told me to beg your lordship tolet him know early what you intended to do, for that he did not holdit safe to remain here much after noon, for fear of being cut off."
"I will send to him directly," replied Lord Walton; "but you, in themean time, take this warrant, and go round by the back of the town toa place called Longsoaken, where you will apprehend one Ezekiel Dry.Bring him hither without giving him time to speak with any one inprivate."
"But if he resists?" asked the man.
"Use force," answered Lord Walton, and then added, "but there will beno resistance. Take all your men with you but those who are guardingthe committee-men, and five of my people besides. You, Roger, go withhim, with Hugh, and three others. Leave Langan, for I shall want him;and now," he continued, as soon as they had retired, "to examine intothe business of this fire."
Thus saying, he rose, took his hat, which lay beside him, and passingthrough the neighbouring hall, went out upon the terrace. Thencircling round the ruins of the tower which had fallen he made his wayto the end, where, black and still reeking, stood the part of thebuilding in which the fire had commenced.
No one was near, and Lord Walton stood and gazed at the ruin forseveral minutes with sad and solemn feelings. It looked to him likethe corpse of one untimely slain; all was grey and desolate wherelately had been life and cheerfulness. The room in which he used tosit was gone, and all that marked the spot where he had passed many anhour of calm and pleasant contemplation were the charred ends of therafters, and one stout beam, which, not quite destroyed, hung blackand crumbling from side to side, bending down half broken in themidst. Part of the wall had fallen in, and part still stood, ruggedand ruined, while in the chamber below some tattered fragments of richdamask furniture and old
tapestry hung fluttering in the wind. Thesmoke still rose up from the pile of rubbish beneath; but on one ofthe chimneys a bird had already ventured to perch, as if claiming itthenceforth for the inheritance of the wild things of the earth.
After a few minutes' sad contemplation the young lord turned andlooked around over the fair scene he was about to leave perhaps forever, as it lay calm and smiling in the sunshine of the early morning,notwithstanding all the destruction of the preceding night, and thegloomy prospects of the future, with the same peaceful indifferencewherewith some have supposed the disembodied spirit to look upon thewild passions and contentions of the world.
As he gazed, however, he saw the figure of a girl seated upon thetrunk of a felled beech-tree, which lay close beneath the terrace, andinstantly perceiving that it was that of Arrah Neil, he beckoned toher to come up to him. The girl did so without hesitation: and as sheclimbed the stone steps which led from the park he watched hercountenance, to see if the moody and abstracted fit to which she wasfrequently subject was still upon her, or had passed away.
There was no trace of it left. Her beautiful eyes were clear andbright, and full of intelligence, though her brow was grave and evensad, and her look was raised towards him with a gentle, imploring,deprecating expression, as it she had in some way offended and soughtforgiveness.
"Well, my poor Arrah," said the young nobleman, in a kind tone, "Ifear you were much frightened last night."
"I was frightened, my lord," she answered, bending down her eyes, "butnot much; I knew it was for the best, and hoped that it would soon beextinguished."
"All things are for the best," replied Lord Walton. "God forbid that Ishould doubt it, Arrah. Yet this has been a severe loss and a greatgrief to me; for I cannot see the house of my fathers so injuredwithout regret. It is not that many invaluable and rare things havebeen destroyed, but that mementos of the past are gone withthem--things the sight of which recalled the days of boyhood--placesstored with a thousand memories, ay, and a thousand associations withtimes before my own. I can no longer sit in that room, Arrah, andthink of those who tenanted it in former years, or of all the manyscenes that have there taken place."
"I am very sorry for it indeed," replied Arrah Neil; "but yet----" andshe paused, leaving her sentence unconcluded.
"Tell me, Arrah," continued Lord Walton, not heeding her broken reply,"when you had retired to rest last night, which they tell me was aboutnine, did you hear any noise in the tower, or any one going up thestairs which pass close behind the room where you slept?"
She gazed at him for a moment in silence, with her large bright eyesfixed somewhat sadly upon his countenance, then shook her head andanswered, "No one."
The young lord remarked the peculiarity of her look, and added, "I amsure you would answer truly, Arrah, for your poor grandfather, whogave you an education so much above that which persons far higher inrank bestow upon their children, taught you I know always to adhere totruth. Yet hear me, Arrah; I have always tried to be kind to you andyours; I have been fond of you from your childhood. Now I suspect thatthis fire was not the work of accident, I cannot find that the door atthe foot of the tower was closed last night. That enemies were abroadI have too good reason to know; and you, too, warned me yourself thatdanger was at hand----"
"Oh, but it was not that!--it was not that!" cried Arrah Neil; "thedanger I feared for you was not of fire, Charles Walton. Ask me not totell you, for they made me swear I would not before they would let mego."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the young nobleman, gazing at her thoughtfully."Well, I will not ask you then."
"Do not! do not!" she cried, "for I could not refuse you anything; andthat would be wrong after I have sworn: I would lay down my life foryou, indeed I would; but you would not wish me to break my word."
"No, no!" replied Lord Walton; "but to return. I suspect, as I havesaid, that this destruction has not been committed by accident."
"Not entirely," said Arrah Neil, looking down.
"Not entirely!" exclaimed the peer. "Then you know how ithappened--you know who did it--Arrah, speak, who was it? That, atleast, I may ask."
The poor girl trembled terribly, but then, in a low sad voice sheanswered, "It was I."
"You?--you?" cried Lord Walton, gazing at her sternly, while his lipquivered in the attempt to suppress the emotions within him. The girlanswered nothing, and after a struggle with himself he waved his hand,saying, "I forgive you, my poor girl, you did it when you were notyourself. Tell no one else, Arrah--the secret is safe with me;" and heturned away, lest one harsh word should mingle with the kinder ones hehad spoken.
When he had gone some ten or twelve paces, however, Arrah Neil dartedafter him, caught his hand, and pressed her beautiful lips upon it.
"Do not abandon me, Charles Walton," she said. "Do not cast me off andhate me. Tell me, would you rather see all those ruins, and lose allyou have lost, or be tomorrow a prisoner in the dark Tower of London,perhaps never to ride the green fields again while you live?"
Lord Walton paused with a look of bewildered inquiry; but thensuddenly a light rose up in his eyes, and laying his hand upon ArrahNeil's shoulder, he said, "Thank you, Arrah! thank you. 'Tis a wildway of deliverance. Yet thank you, dear child. You meant it well, andit has succeeded. But here are people coming. Go back to Annie; wemust not leave you behind us."
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