Deep Moat Grange

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XXIX

  THE CALLING OF ELSIE

  Now, upon this very night of Saturday, the tenth of February, the sameupon which Mr. Ablethorpe had come to see me, Elsie had lighted hercandle early. Jeremy had been generous in the matter of lighting,though more than once he had proved himself forgetful of food. As theeasiest manner of providing in quantity, he had brought up from MissOrrin's store-room a complete box of candles, which he had opened forher in a summary manner with the back of his knife and the toe of hisboot.

  Elsie was therefore able to follow the somnolent progress of theadventures of the late Nicholas, M.D., a gentleman whose travels hadled him to the Island of Trinidad. In the interests of the "HuttonianTheory" he had visited its famous pitch lake, on which he had foundcattle grazing peacefully, as on an English meadow. She had justreached the following passage, and was nodding over it, the linesrunning together in the most curious manner, and her head sinkingforward occasionally, only to be caught up with a sharp jerk, and thepassage begun again with renewed determination.

  "No scene can be more magnificent than that presented on a nearapproach to the north-western coast of Trinidad. The sea is not onlychanged from a light green to a deep brown colour, but has in anextraordinary degree that rippling, confused, and whirling motion whicharises from the violence of contending currents, and which prevail herein so remarkable a manner, particularly at those seasons when theOrinoco is swollen with periodical rains, and vessels are frequentlysome days or weeks in stemming them, or perhaps are irresistibly bornebefore them far out of their destined track."

  This was not clear to Elsie, but she had read the passage so often thatthe very whirling of these Orinocan currents, confused and rippling asthey were, reacted subtly on her brain. She was just dropping overwhen a second and yet more soothing paragraph caught her eyes. (Thereis nothing like a volume of old travels for putting one to sleep--noextra charge for the prescription.)

  "The dark verdure of lofty mountains, covered with impenetrable woodsto the very summits, whence in the most humid of climates torrentsimpetuously rush through deep ravines to the sea"--this, carefullyfollowed, beats sheep jumping over a stile all to fits--"between ruggedmountains of brown micaceous schist"--sch--isssst--final recovery--"onwhose cavernous sides the eddying surf dashes with fury. From thewonderful discoloration and turbidity of the water, Columbussagaciously concluded that a very large river was near, andconsequently--consequent-ly--a great continent!"

  But to this continent Elsie never attained. She had succumbed to thesagacity of Columbus, and in a moment more her forehead restedpeacefully upon the work of Mr. Nicholas, M.D., that renowned traveller.

  Let a man or a woman learn this passage by heart, so that asleep orawake he can recall it even when he forgets his own name, and it willnot be labour lost. He will live long in the land. His sleep shall besweet, swift, and easy. Like Elsie he will never reach the haven ofColumbus--

  "Not poppy nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsie syrrups of the world Shall ever medicine him to that sweete sleepe"

  like to the prose which Mr. Nicholas, M.D., wrote as he approached theisland of Trinidad.

  Elsie slept. Time passed. My father filed and sawed in his recess,muttering to himself, his head nearly through into the dark cupboard;but one ear cast ever backward for the first grate of Mad Jeremy's keyin the lock of his door.

  Before him he could see the thin line of light which was the crack ofthe cupboard door. Beyond that sat Elsie with her head on her book,her mind a thousand leagues away.

  But between my father and the sleeping girl there was that bar of iron,the upper part of which, by reason of some twist, was giving far moredifficulty than the under.

  So it came about that, without daring to make himself heard, my fatherwas a witness of the final scene in the oven chamber behind the monks'bakehouse. He had a bar of iron against his shoulder and a file knifein his right hand, but for all that he was helpless to render anyassistance till he should have cut through the thick diagonal of metal,and so made a way for himself into the dark cupboard.

  All at once, my father, lying prone on his breast and sawing at theobstruction as best he could, with his arms in a most uncomfortableposition for working--being higher than his head--became aware of anadditional light in the room which he could before see only dimlyilluminated by Elsie's candle.

  A man had opened the outer fastenings. His dark shadow crossed thecrack of light which was the edge of the cupboard door ajar. There wasalso a flash of a brighter light for a moment in my father's eyes,which was the swinging of the lantern the man carried. He laid hishand on the young girl's shoulder, and with a cry which went to JosephYarrow's heart, Elsie came back from the Orinoco, to find Mad Jeremylooking down upon her.

  "Sleepin'?" he chuckled, "and over her book, the bonnie bairn! She's ateacher, a lassie dominie--they tell me. But Jeremy will learn hersomething this nicht that is better than a' the wisdom written in thebuiks. Be never feared, lass.

  "Ye are the heiress. And I am the heir."

  "But come ye wi' me, lassie, and this nicht we will drink o' the whitewine and the red, till the bottom faa's oot o' the stoup. I promisedit to you that, when I gat the melodeon, I wad play ye the mony grandtunes--and ye wad dance--dance, Elsie, dance, my bonnie, like a starthrough the meadow-mist or a dewdrap on a bit rose-leaf when the westwinds swing the tree!"

  All this time Elsie, gazing amazed at the man, rested silent in anawful consternation. She had never seen Mad Jeremy like this. Hiscurly hair now hung straight and black. Perspiration stood in beads onhis brow. He breathed quick and heavy, with a curious rattle in thethroat. Slowly Elsie rose to her feet. She stood between my fatherand his view of the apartment, as it were, cutting it off. He bit hishand to keep him from doing or saying anything, knowing himself to beimpotent, and that the best he could do was just to wait. Otherwise,Mad Jeremy would simply have come round and despatched him first. Fornever (says my father) did murder so plainly look out of a man's eyesas that night in the oven chamber.

  Mad Jeremy took Elsie by the wrist.

  "Come, lassie," he cried, with a lightsome skip of the foot--for,indeed, the man could not keep still a moment--"come awa'! The graygoose is gone, and the fox--the fox, the auld bauld cunnin' fox--is offto his den-O--den-O--den-O!"

  And, with a turn of his lantern, he threw the candle Elsie had leftburning upon the floor, trampled it out fiercely, and then, with onehand still on Elsie's wrist and the lantern swinging in the other,strode out, shouting his version of the refrain: "And the fox--thefox--the auld, yauld, bauld fox, is off to his den-O!"

  But my father had been listening keenly for the click of the key in thelock. He had not heard it. The way to freedom, to help Elsie, layopen if only--ah, if only that bar would give way. And once more, in akind of fury, he precipitated himself upon the stubborn, twisted iron.

  Once outside, the freshness of the air fell upon Elsie like a blow inthe face. So long confined below in her cell built of the hardwhinstone of the country outcrops, she had forgotten the grip andsweetness of the wind which comes over the Cheviots--fresh and sweeteven though it bring with it the snell sting of snow-filled "hopes" andthe long dyke backs ridged with lingering white of last year's storms.

  But there a yet greater astonishment awaited her. Jeremy's grip didnot loosen upon her wrist. He led her toward the half-ruineddrawbridge. It was within a few steps of the sham, ivy-grown ruinwhere they had emerged.

  Before her eyes the house of Deep Moat Grange, all along its firstfloor, blazed with the light of a great feast. Beneath and above allwas dark. But the great drawing-room, the weaving-room, and Mr.Stennis' bedroom seemed all filled with light.

  Jeremy, who seemed to have eyes which saw in the dark, led her easilyacross the hall, up the staircase, in the completest darkness. Then atthe top he suddenly threw the folding doors open, and with a certainformal parade of manners, announced: "Miss Elsie Stennis, of Deep MoatGrange." />
  Then laughing heartily at his wit, he entered after her, locking thedoor and pocketing the key. The large room was still ornamented in theold style, for the furniture within it had been taken over by Mr.Stennis when he bought the property. Miss Orrin had arranged waxcandles in all the many-bracketed chandeliers. With some strange ideaof the fitness of things, she had ordered these to be made extra large,red, and fluted. Jeremy had lighted all these, and the wide saloon,with its central carpet and waxed borders, was as light as day.

  On the table, just undone from its wrappings, lay a tinselled andsilver melodeon of the latest type. It was the same that Mr.Ablethorpe and I had seen Mad Jeremy buy that evening in our retailshop, and offer in payment the hundred-pound note.

  Jeremy leaped upon the instrument, in three light, silent strides, likesome graceful, dangerous animal. He swung it over his head withsomething like a cheer, and at once swept into a tide of melody. Elsielooked all about her. Nothing had been moved, save that on one of thesofas was the mark of muddy boots---Jeremy's for certain. For it wasto that place he betook himself now. All the rest of the chamber borethe mark of Miss Orrin's careful hand, and her worst enemy did not denythat she was an excellent housekeeper.

  "Where is my grandfather?" cried Elsie, in a pause of the stormy music.Jeremy answered her by a simple cock of the thumb over his shoulder inthe direction of the door of the weaving-room.

  "He went ben there a while syne to work a stent at your wedding quilt,my bonnie lamb!

  "Oh, I shall be the bridegroom. And ye shall be the bride!"

  With a sudden lift of hope, Elsie listened for the well-known "caa" ofher grandfather's shuttle. What if only he were there! What if allthe evil were quite untrue--the message that the hateful woman hadbrought on her way to school--was he not her own blood, the father ofher mother? Surely he would save her! She moved toward the door withthe instinct to call for help strong within her.

  But instantly Mad Jeremy, who had been reclining carelessly on thesofa, motioned her away.

  "Come nearer me," he commanded--"there, on the carpet by the fire,where Jeremy can see ye. Ah, it's a grand thing to bring hame a bonnielass to her ain hoose--her hoose and mine!--

  "I'se be the laird o't, And she'll be the leddy; She'll be the minnie o't, And I'se be the daddy!"

  Elsie made a dash for the windows, as if to leap out upon the lawn, butthe movements of the maniac were far faster. In the wink of an eyelidhe had laid aside his melodeon and caught her again by the wrist.

  "Na, na," he said, "the like o' that will never, never do! There's naesense in that ava'! See!"

  And leading her to the window he showed her the bars which hergrandfather had caused to be put up to guard his treasures. It was asdifficult to get out of Deep Moat Grange as to get in. That was whatit amounted to, and Elsie recognized it clearly and immediately.

  "My grandfather!" she moaned, half crying with pain and disappointment."Where is he--I want to speak to my grandfather!"

  Jeremy made a mysterious sign to command silence, pointed again overhis shoulder at the door of the weaving-room, and answered--

  "He ben there. But Hobby was in nae guid temper the last time I spak'wi' him. It is better to let him come to a while. He aye does that atthe weavin', when he is nettled at onything!"

  "But I do not hear the shuttle," objected Elsie. "How am I to know heis there--that you are speaking the truth?"

  "Oh, he will hae broken a thread--maybe the silver cord--ye ken he wasrinnin' ane through and through, to gar the 'Elsie Stennis' stand ootbonnie on the web! Ech, ay, the silver cord, the gowden bowl, thealmond blossom--Hobby could weave them a'--terrible grand at theweavin' is Hobby. But he's an auld man! Maybe he will hae rested awee. He has but yae candle. Plenty enough, says you, for an auld man.He'll hae fa'en asleep amang the bonnie napery, wi' his head on thebeam and his hand that tired it wadna caa the shuttle ony mair!"

  Then suddenly the madman took another thought.

  "But what am I thinkin' on?" he cried. "The world is not for dune aulddotards, but for young folk--young folk--braw folk--rich folk like youand me, Elsie! See to that!"

  He drew out the same large pocket-book that had dazzled the eyes of ourshopmen at Yarrow's, and opening it, showed Elsie the rolls and rollsof notes, all of high denominations unseen before in Breckonside.

  "There's a fortune there, lassie," he said, "a' made by Jeremy--everypenny o't by Jeremy, for you and me, hinny! It bocht the melodeonhere, that Hobby wadna gie this puir lad a shilling for. And it willmak' you the bonniest and the brawest wife i' the parish! Hark ye tothat, Elsie! There's a fair offer for ye, the like o' that ye neverheard! But noo, the nicht is afore us. I will pipe to ye, and yeshall dance. Oh, but though I say it that shouldna--ye are fell bonniewhen ye dance!

  "Jeremy's heart gangs oot to ye then. If onybody was to look atye--that much--fegs, Jeremy wad put a knife into him--ay, ay, and thething wadna be to dae twice! Oh, there's a heap o' braw lads inBreckonside that wadna be the waur o' a bluid lettin'! There's thatupsettin' young Joe Yarrow for yin. I saw him the night standin'watchin' me as I was payin' for the melodeon, as if the siller wascounterfeit! Certes, if Jeremy likit he could buy up the Yarrows tentimes ower, faither and son!"

  Then as the madman went off toward the door he lifted his finger withthe half-playful air with which one admonishes a child.

  "Jeremy can trust ye?" he queried. "Ay, ay, forbye the windows arebarred, and the granddad has his door locked--that I ken weel. He ayesleeps best that gate! Bide here like a denty quean--wait for Jeremy.He will bring in the feast, the grand banquet in the cups o' silver an'gowd, the white wine and the reid--the best baker's bread, honey fraethe kame, and a' the denty devices o' the King's ain pastry-cook--thatwere bocht for coined siller in Breckonside! Then, after the feast yeshall dance--dance, Elsie, as danced that other bonnie quean they caaedthe dochter o' Herodias. Eh, but she maun hae made thae soldiers ofHerod and thae grand wise-like lords yerk and fidge juist to watch her.But, for your dance, Elsie lassie. Gin ye be a wise bairn and dance itbonnie, Jeremy will gie ye, no the half o' his kingdom, but the hale!Ay, Jeremy's kingdom a' complete!"

  And again he slapped his pocket into which he had slipped the fatpocket-book.

  He was gone. Elsie waited one palpitating minute after he had lockedthe door. She could hear the sound of his feet descending the stairs.They died away. She listened yet a while longer, lest, with maniaccunning, he should return for the purpose of catching her in the act ofdisobedience. But the heavy clanging of a door and the screech of thegreat key in the lock warned her that it must be now or never.

  Elsie flew to the door of the weaving-room. She would find Mr.Stennis. She would throw herself upon his mercy. She did notbelieve--she could not believe that he knew anything of the treatmentshe had undergone during the past months.

  "Grandfather, grandfather!" she whispered hoarsely, knocking on thepanel. "Open, it is I--Elsie Stennis! Save me, save me!"

  But there was no reply--only silence, and the scurry of a rat behindthe wainscot.

  She called again, louder than before.

  "Grandfather, grandfather! Quick; he will come back! Save me,grandfather!"

  But there was utter silence. Even the rat had found a shelter.

  Swiftly Elsie stooped. The doors of the old houses of the date of DeepMoat Grange have roomy keyholes. Elsie set her eye to the one whichshe found empty of a key.

  She saw the most part of a bare room--at least, the illuminated squareabout the room. She saw her grandfather, his head bowed upon hiswork--his frame still with the stillness of death, and the knife whichhad done its deadly work lying close by. At his elbow a candle wasflickering itself out. Something dripped, and on the floor a darkerdarkness spread itself slowly out. Even as she looked, the flamerushed upward, like the life of a man which returns not to hisnostrils, and all was blank about her.

  Elsie would have fainted, but she heard step
s on the stair--swift andlight--the footsteps of Jeremy returning, and she knew that she mustmeet him with the smile upon her lips.