The Light of Scarthey: A Romance

by Egerton Castle

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE DISTANT LIGHT

  In spite of their first petulant or dolorous anticipation, and of thecontrast between the even tenor of country life and the constantstream of amusement which young people of fashion can find in a placelike Bath, the two girls discovered that time glided pleasantly enoughover them at Pulwick.

  Instead of the gloomy northern stronghold their novel-fed imaginationhad pictured (the more dismally as their sudden removal from towngaieties savoured distantly of punishment at the hand of their irateaunt), they found themselves delivered over into a bright,admirably-ordered house, replete with things of beauty, comfortable tothe extremity of luxury; and allowed in this place of safety to enjoyalmost unrestricted liberty.

  The latter privilege was especially precious, as the sisters at thattime had engrossing thoughts of their own they wished to pursue, andfound more interest in solitary roamings through the wide estate thanin the company of the hosts.

  On the fifth day Miss O'Donoghue took her departure. Her owntravelling coach had rumbled down the avenue, bearing her and herwoman away, in its polished yellow embrace, her flat trunk strappedbehind, and the good-natured old face nodding out of the window, tillMolly and Madeleine, standing (a little disconsolate) upon the porchto watch her departure, could distinguish even the hooked nose nolonger. Mr. Landale, upon his mettled grey, a gallant figure, as Mollyherself was forced to admit, in his boots and buckskins, had canteredin the dust alongside, intent upon escorting his aged relative to thesecond stage of her journey.

  That night, almost for the first time since their arrival, there wasno company at dinner, and the young guests understood that thehousehold would now fall back into its ordinary routine.

  But without the small flutter of seeing strangers, or Tanty's livelyconversation, the social intercourse soon waned into exceedingdulness, and at an early hour Miss Molly rose and withdrew to herroom, pretexting a headache, for which Mr. Landale, with his usualhigh courtesy, affected deep concern.

  As she was slowly ascending the great oaken staircase, she crossedMoggie, the gatekeeper's daughter, who in her character offoster-sister to one of the guests had been specially allotted to themas attendant, during the remainder of their visit to Pulwick.

  Molly thought that the girl eyed her hesitatingly, as if she wished tospeak:

  "Well, Moggie?" she asked, stopping on her way.

  "Oh, please, miss," said the buxom lass, blushing and dropping acurtsey, "Renny Potter, please, miss, is up at our lodge to-night, hedon't care to come to the 'ouse so much, miss. But when he heard aboutyou, miss, you could have knocked him down with a feather he was sosurprised and that excited, miss, we have never seen him so. And he'sso set on being allowed to see ye both!"

  Molly as yet failed to connect any memories of interest with thepossessor of the patronymic mentioned, but the next phrase mentionedaroused her attention.

  "He is Sir Adrian's servant, now, miss, and goes back yonder to theisland, that is where the master lives, to-morrow morning. But hewould be so happy to see the young ladies before he goes, if theliberty were forgiven, he says. He was servant to the Madam yourmother, miss.

  "Well, Moggie," answered Miss Molly, smiling, "if that is all that isrequired to make Renny Potter happy, it is very easily done. TellRenny Potter: to-morrow morning." And she proceeded on her waypondering, while the successful emissary pattered down to the lodge inhigh glee to gather her reward in her sweetheart's company.

  * * * * *

  When later on Madeleine joined her sister, she found her standing bythe deep recessed window, the curtains of which were drawn back,resting her head on her hand against the wainscot, and gazing abroadinto the night.

  She approached, and passing her hand round Molly's waist looked outalso.

  "Again at your window?"

  "It is a beautiful night, and the view very lovely," said Molly. Andindeed the moon was riding high in a deep blue starry heaven, andshimmered on the strip of distant sea visible from the windows.

  "Yes, but yesterday the night was not fine, and nothing was to be seenbut blackness; and it was the same the day before, and yet you staredout of this window, as you have every night since our coming. It isstrange to see _you_ so. What is it, why don't you tell me?"

  "Madeleine," said Molly, suddenly, after a lengthy pause, "I am simply_haunted_ by that light over yonder, the Light of Scarthey. There is amystery about those ruins, on which I keep meditating all day long. Iwant to know more. It draws me. I would give anything to be able, now,to set sail and land there all unknown to any one, and see what mannerof life is led where that light is burning."

  But Madeleine merely gave a pout of little interest. "What do youthink you would find? A half-witted middle-aged man, mooning among alitter of books, with an old woman, and a little Frenchman to lookafter him. Why, Mr. Landale himself takes no trouble to conceal thathis poor brother is an almost hopeless lunatic."

  "Mr. Landale--" Molly began, with much contempt; but she interruptedherself, and went on simply, "Mr. Landale is a very fine gentleman,with very superior manners. He speaks like a printed book--but for allthat I _would_ like to know."

  Madeleine laughed. "The demon of curiosity has a hold of you, Molly;remember the fable they made us repeat: _De loin c'est quelque chose,et de pres ce n'est rien._ Now you shall go straight into your bed,and not take cold."

  And Miss Madeleine, after authoritatively closing the curtains, kissedher sister, and was about to commence immediate disrobing, when shecaught sight of the shagreen-covered book, lying open on the table.

  "So your headache was your diary--how I should like to have a peep."

  "I daresay!" said Molly, sarcastically, and then sat down and, pen inhand, began to re-read her night's entry, now and then casting atantalising glance over her shoulder at her sister. The lines, in theflowing convent hand, ran thus:

  "Aunt O'Donoghue left us this morning, and so here we are, planted inPulwick; and she has achieved her plan, fully. But what is odd is thatneither Madeleine nor I seem to mind it, now. What has come overMadeleine is her secret, and she keeps it close; but that _I_ shouldlike being here is strange indeed.

  "And yet, every day something happens to make me feel connected withPulwick--something more, I mean, than the mere fact that we were bornhere. So many of the older people greet me, at first, as if they knewme--they all say I am so like 'the Madam;' they don't see the samelikeness in Madeleine for all her _grand air_. There was Mrs. Mearson,the gatekeeper, was struck in amazement. And the old housekeeper,whenever she has an opportunity tries to entertain me about thebeautiful foreign lady and the grand times they had at Pulwick whenshe was here, and 'Sir Tummas' was still alive.

  "But, though we are made to feel that we are more than ordinaryguests, it is not on account of Mr. Landale, but _on account of SirAdrian_--the Master, as they call him, whom we never see, and whom hisbrother would make out to be mad. Why is he so anxious that Sir Adrianshould not know that Aunt Rose has brought us here? He seemed willingenough to please her, and yet nothing that she could say of her wishcould induce him even to send a messenger over to the rock. And now wemay be here all these two months and never even have caught a sight ofthe _Master_. I wonder if he is still like that portrait--whether hebears that face still as he now sits, all alone, brooding as hisbrother says, up in those ruined chambers, while the light burns calmand bright in the tower! What can this man of his have to say to me?"

  Molly dotted her last forgotten "i," blotted it, closed and carefullylocked the book. Then, rising, she danced over to her sister, andforced her into a pirouette.

  "And now," she cried gaily, "our dear old Tanty is pulling on hernightcap and weeping over her posset in the stuffy room at Lancasterregretting _me_; and I should be detesting her with all my energiesfor leaving me behind her, were it not that, just at present, Iactually find Pulwick more interesting than Bath."

  Madeleine lifted her heavy-lidded eyes a little wond
eringly to hersister's face, as she paused in her gyration.

  "What fly stings thee now?" she inquired in French.

  "You do not tell me about _your_ wounds, my dear, those wounds whichlittle Dan Cupid has made upon your tender heart, with his naughtylittle arrow, and which give you such sweet pain, apparently, that yourevel in the throes all day long. And yet, I am a good child; youshall guess. If you guess aright, I shall tell you. So now begin."

  They stood before the fire, and the leaping tongues of light playedupon their white garments, Madeleine's nightgear scarcely moretreacherously tell-tale of her slender woman's loveliness than theevening robe that clung so closely to the vigorous grace of Molly'slithe young figure.

  The elder, whose face bore a blush distinct from the reflected glow ofthe embers, fell to guessing, as commanded, a little wildly:

  "You begin to find the _beau cousin_ Rupert a little more interestingthan you anticipated."

  "Bah," cried Molly, with a stamp of her sandalled foot, "it is notpossible to guess worse! He is more insufferable to me, hour by hour."

  "I think him kind and pleasant," returned Madeleine simply.

  "Ah, because he makes sweet eyes at you, I suppose--yet no--I expressmyself badly--he could not make anything sweet out of those hard, hardeyes of his, but he is very--what they call here in England--attentiveto you. And he looks at you and ponders you over when you little thinkit--you poor innocent--lost in your dream of ... _Smith_! There, Iwill not tease you. Guess again."

  "You are pleased to remain here because you are a trueweather-cock--because you like one thing one day another thenext--because the country peace and quiet is soothing to you after thefolly and noise of the great world of Bath and Dublin, and reminds yourefreshingly, as it does me, of our happy convent days." The glimmerof a dainty malice lurked in the apparent candour of Madeleine'sgrave blue eyes, and from thence spread into her pretty smile at thesight of Molly's disdainful lip, "Well then, I give it up. You havesome mischief on foot, of that at least I am sure."

  "No mischief--a work of righteousness rather. Sister Madeleine, youheard all that that gallant gentleman you think so highly of--yourcousin Rupert, my dear" (it was a little way of Molly's to throw theresponsibility of anything she did not like, even to an obnoxiousrelationship, upon another person's shoulders), "narrated of hisbrother Sir Adrian, and how he persuaded Tanty that he was, as yousaid just now, a hopeless madman--"

  "But yes--he does mad things," said the elder twin, a littlewonderingly.

  "Well, Madeleine, it is a vile lie. I am convinced of it."

  "But, my darling----"

  "Look here, Madeleine, there is something behind it all. I attackedthat creature, that rag, you cannot call her a woman, that femalecousin of yours, Sophia, and I pressed her hard too, but she could notgive me a single instance about Sir Adrian that is really the leastlike insanity; and last night, when the young fool who escorted me todinner, Coventry his name was, told me that every one says Sir Adrianis shut up on the island and that his French servant is really hiskeeper, and that it was a shame Rupert was not the eldest brother, Iquite saw the sort of story Master Rupert likes to spread--don'tinterrupt, please! When you were wool-gathering over the fire lastnight (in the lively and companionable way, permit me to remark inparenthesis, that you have adopted of late), and you thought I waswith Tanty, I had marched off with my flat candlestick to the picturegallery to have a good look at the so-called lunatic. I dragged over achair and lit the candles in the candelabra each side of thechimney-piece, and then standing on my perch still, I held up my owntorch and I saw the sailor really well. I think he has a beautifulface and that he is no more mad than I am. But he looks so sad, sosad! I longed to make those closed lips part and tell me their secret.And, as I was looking and dreaming, my dear, just as you might, Iheard a little noise, and there was Rupert, only a few yards off,surveying me with such an angry gaze--Ugh!" (with a shiver) "I hatesuch ways. He came in upon me with soft steps like some animal. Lookat his portrait there, Madeleine!--Stay! I shall hold up the light asI did last night to Sir Adrian--see, it flickers and glimmers andmakes him seem as if he were alive--oh, I wish he were not hanging infront of our beds, staring out at us with those eyes! You think themvery fine, I daresay, that is because his lashes are as thick and darkas a woman's--but the look in them, my dear--do you know what itreminds me of? Of the beautiful, cruel greyhound we saw at thecoursing at that place near Bunratty (you remember, just before theystarted the hare), when he stood for a moment motionless, looking outacross the plain. I can never forget the expression of thoseyellow-circled eyes. And, when I see Rupert look at you as if he werefixing something in the far distance, it gives me just the feeling ofhorror and sickness I had then. (You remember how dreadful it was?)Rupert makes me think of a greyhound, altogether he is so lithe and soclean-cut, and so full of eagerness, a sort of trembling eagernessunderneath his seeming quiet, and I think he could be cruel."

  Molly paused with an unusually grave and reflective look; Madeleineyawned a little, not at all impressed.

  "How you exaggerate!" she said. "Well what happened when he came inand caught you? The poor man! I suppose, he thought you were settingthe house on fire."

  "My dear, I turned as red as a poppy and began blowing out all myillumination, feeling dreadfully guilty, and then he helped me off mychair with such an air of politeness that I could have struck him withpleasure, but I soon gathered my wits again. And, vexed with myselffor being a ninny, I just dropped him a little curtsey and said, 'I'vebeen examining my mad cousin.' 'Well, and what do you think of him?'he asked me, smiling (his abominable smile!). But I can keep mythoughts to myself as well as other people. 'I think he is veryhandsome,' I answered, and then I wagged my head and added, 'Poorfellow,' just as if I thought he was really mad. 'Poor fellow!' saidcousin Rupert, still with his smile. Whereupon we interchangedgood-nights, and he ceremoniously reconducted me to my door. What washe spying after me for, like that? My dear, your cousin has a badconscience.--But I can spy too--I have been questioning the servantsto-day, and some of the people on the estate."

  "Oh, Molly!"

  "Come, don't be so shocked. It was diplomatically, of course, but I amdetermined to find out the truth. Well, so far from looking upon SirAdrian as a lunatic, they all adore him, it seems to me. He comes hereperiodically--once every three months or so--and it is like the King'sJustices, you know--St. Louis of France--he redresses all wrongs, andlistens to grievances and gives alms and counsel, and every one cancome with his story, down to the poorest wretch on the estate, andthey certainly gave me to understand that they would fare prettyhardly under Mr. Landale if it were not for that mild beneficentrestraining influence in his tower yonder. It is very romantic, do youknow (you like romance, Madeleine). I wonder if Sir Adrian will comeover while we are here. Oh, I hope, I hope he will. I shall never resttill I have seen him."

  "Silly child," said Madeleine, "and so that is the reason you are gladto remain here?"

  "Even so, my dear," answered the other, skipped into the big four-postbed, carefully ascertained and selected the softest pillow, and then,smiling sweetly at her sister from under a frame of dark curls, lether white lids drop over the lustre of her eyes and so intimated shedesired to sleep.