The Old English Baron: a Gothic Story

by Clara Reeve

heshould be proud to do any service to so noble a gentleman. Lord Cliffordenforced his request, saying, it was better upon all accounts to keeptheir prisoner on this side the borders till they saw what turn hishealth would take, and to keep him safely till he had settled hisworldly affairs.

  This resolution being taken, Lord Graham invited the wounded man andhis friends to his castle, as being the nearest place where he couldbe lodged and taken proper care of, it being dangerous to carry himfurther. They accepted the proposal with many acknowledgements; and,having made a kind of litter of boughs, they all proceeded to LordGraham's castle, where they put Lord Lovel to bed, and the surgeondressed his wounds, and desired he might be kept quiet, not knowing atpresent whether they were dangerous or not.

  About an hour after, the wounded man complained of thirst; he askedfor the surgeon, and enquired if his life was in danger? The surgeonanswered him doubtfully. He asked--

  "Where is Sir Philip Harclay?"

  "In the castle."

  "Where is that young man whom he calls the heir of Lovel?"

  "He is here, too."

  "Then I am surrounded with my enemies. I want to speak to one of my ownservants, without witnesses; let one be sent to me."

  The surgeon withdrew, and acquainted the gentlemen below. "He shall notspeak to any man," said Sir Philip, "but in my presence." He went withhim into the sick man's room. Upon the sight of Sir Philip, he seemed ingreat agitation.

  "Am I not allowed to speak with my own servant?" said he.

  "Yes, sir, you may; but not without witnesses."

  "Then I am a prisoner, it seems?"

  "No, not so, sir; but some caution is necessary at present. But composeyourself, I do not wish for your death."

  "Then why did you seek it? I never injured you."

  "Yes, you have, in the person of my friend, and I am only the instrumentof justice in the hand of Heaven; endeavour to make atonement whilelife is spared to you. Shall I send the priest to you? perhaps hemay convince you of the necessity of restitution, in order to obtainforgiveness of your sins."

  Sir Philip sent for the priest and the surgeon, and obliged the servantto retire with him. "I leave you, sir, to the care of these gentlemen;and whenever a third person is admitted, I will be his attendant; I willvisit you again within an hour."

  He then retired, and consulted his friends below; they were of opinionthat no time should be lost. "You will then," said he, "accompany meinto the sick man's apartment in an hour's time."

  Within the hour, Sir Philip, attended by Lord Clifford and Lord Graham,entered the chamber. Lord Lovel was in great emotion; the priest stoodon one side of the bed, the surgeon on the other; the former exhortedhim to confess his sins, the other desired he might be left to hisrepose. Lord Lovel seemed in great anguish of mind; he trembled, and wasin the utmost confusion. Sir Philip intreated him, with the piety ofa confessor, to consider his soul's health before that of his body. Hethen asked Sir Philip, by what means he knew that he was concerned inthe death of his kinsman?

  "Sir," replied he, "it was not merely by human means this fact wasdiscovered. There is a certain apartment in the Castle of Lovel, thathas been shut up these one and twenty years, but has lately been openedand examined into."

  "O Heaven!" exclaimed he, "then Geoffry must have betrayed me!"

  "No, sir, he has not; it was revealed in a very extraordinary manner tothat youth whom it most concerns."

  "How can he be the heir of Lovel?"

  "By being the son of that unfortunate woman, whom you cruelly obliged toleave her own house, to avoid being compelled to wed the murderer of herhusband: we are not ignorant, moreover, of the fictitious funeral youmade for her. All is discovered, and you will not tell us any more thanwe know already; but we desire to have it confirmed by your confession."

  "The judgments of Heaven are fallen upon me!" said Lord Lovel. "I amchildless, and one is arisen from the grave to claim my inheritance."

  "Nothing, then, hinders you to do justice and make restitution; it isfor the ease of your conscience; and you have no other way of makingatonement for all the mischief you have done."

  "You know too much," said the criminal, "and I will relate what you donot know."

  "You may remember," proceeded he, "that I saw you once at my uncle'shouse?"

  "I well remember it."

  "At that time my mind was disturbed by the baleful passion of envy; itwas from that root all my bad actions sprung."

  "Praise be to God!" said the good priest; "he hath touched your heartwith true contrition, and you shew the effect of his mercies; you willdo justice, and you will be rewarded by the gift of repentance untosalvation."

  Sir Philip desired the penitent to proceed.

  "My kinsman excelled me in every kind of merit, in the graces of personand mind, in all his exercises, and in every accomplishment. I wastotally eclipsed by him, and I hated to be in his company; but whatfinished my aversion, was his addressing the lady upon whom I hadfixed my affections. I strove to rival him there, but she gave him thepreference that, indeed, was only his due; but I could not bear to see,or acknowledge, it.

  "The most bitter hatred took possession of my breast, and I vowed torevenge the supposed injury as soon as opportunity should offer. Iburied my resentment deep in my heart, and outwardly appeared to rejoiceat his success. I made a merit of resigning my pretensions to him, butI could not bear to be present at his nuptials; I retired to my father'sseat, and brooded over my revenge in secret. My father died this year,and soon after my uncle followed him; within another year my kinsman wassummoned to attend the king on his Welch expedition.

  "As soon as I heard he was gone from home, I resolved to prevent hisreturn, exulting in the prospect of possessing his title, fortune, andhis lady. I hired messengers, who were constantly going and coming togive me intelligence of all that passed at the castle; I went there soonafter, under pretence of visiting my kinsman. My spies brought mean account of all that happened; one informed me of the event of thebattle, but could not tell whether my rival was living or dead; I hopedthe latter, that I might avoid the crime I meditated. I reported hisdeath to his Lady, who took it very heavily.

  "Soon after a messenger arrived with tidings that he was alive and well,and had obtained leave to return home immediately.

  "I instantly dispatched my two emissaries to intercept him on the way.He made so much haste to return, that he was met within a mile of hisown castle; he had out-rode his servants, and was alone. They killedhim, and drew him aside out of the highway. They then came to me withall speed, and desired my orders; it was then about sunset. I sentthem back to fetch the dead body, which they brought privately into thecastle: they tied it neck and heels, and put it into a trunk, which theyburied under the floor in the closet you mentioned. The sight of thebody stung me to the heart; I then felt the pangs of remorse, but it wastoo late; I took every precaution that prudence suggested to prevent thediscovery; but nothing can be concealed from the eye of Heaven.

  "From that fatal hour I have never known peace, always in fear ofsomething impending to discover my guilt, and to bring me to shame; atlength I am overtaken by justice. I am brought to a severe reckoninghere, and I dread to meet one more severe hereafter."

  "Enough," said the priest; "you have done a good work, my son! trust inthe Lord; and, now this burden is off your mind, the rest will be madeeasy to you."

  Lord Lovel took a minute's repose, and then went on.

  "I hope by the hint you gave, Sir Philip, the poor lady is yet alive?"

  "No, sir, she is not; but she died not till after she brought forth ason, whom Heaven made its instrument to discover and avenge the death ofboth his parents."

  "They are well avenged!" said he. "I have no children to lament forme; all mine have been taken from me in the bloom of youth; only onedaughter lived to be twelve years old; I intended her for a wife for oneof my nephews, but within three months I have buried her." He sighed,wept, and was silent.

  The gentleme
n present lifted up their hands and eyes to Heaven insilence.

  "The will of Heaven be obeyed!" said the priest. "My penitent hathconfessed all; what more would you require?"

  "That he make atonement," said Sir Philip; "that he surrender the titleand estate to the right heir, and dispose of his own proper fortune tohis nearest relations, and resign himself to penitence and preparationfor a future state. For this time I leave him with you, father, and willjoin my prayers with yours for his repentance."

  So saying, he left the room, and was followed by the Barons and thesurgeon; the priest alone remaining with him. As soon as they were outof hearing, Sir Philip questioned the surgeon concerning