“Agreed,” cried Nowell. “Here is mine.”
“And here is mine,” said Mistress Nutter. “I will abide by the investigation.”
“And Master Potts and I will verify the statements,” said Nicholas.
“We will, sir,” replied the attorney, putting his memorandum book in his pocket. “We will.”
The plans were then delivered to the custody of Sir Ralph, who promised to hand them over to Potts and Nicholas on the morrow.
The party then separated; Mistress Nutter shaping her course towards the window where Alizon and the two other young people were seated, while Potts, plucking the squire’s sleeve, said, with a very mysterious look, that he desired a word with him in private. Wondering what could be the nature of the communication the attorney desired to make, Nicholas withdrew with him into a corner, and Nowell, who saw them retire, and could not help watching them with some curiosity, remarked that the squire’s hilarious countenance fell as he listened to the attorney, while, on the contrary, the features of the latter gleamed with malicious satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Mistress Nutter approached Alizon, and beckoning her towards her, they quitted the room together. As the young girl went forth, she cast a wistful look at Dorothy and her brother.
“You think with me, that that lovely girl is well born?” said Dorothy, as Alizon disappeared.
“It were heresy to doubt it,” answered Richard.
“Shall I tell you another secret?” she continued, regarding him fixedly— “if, indeed, it be a secret, for you must be sadly wanting in discernment if you have not found it out ere this. She loves you.”
“Dorothy!” exclaimed Richard.
“I am sure of it,” she rejoined. “But I would not tell you this, if I were not quite equally sure that you love her in return.”
“On my faith, Dorothy, you give yourself credit for wonderful penetration,” cried Richard.
“Not a whit more than I am entitled to,” she answered. “Nay, it will not do to attempt concealment with me. If I had not been certain of the matter before, your manner now would convince me. I am very glad of it. She will make a charming sister, and I shall he very fond of her.”
“How you do run on, madcap!” cried her brother, trying to look displeased, but totally failing in assuming the expression.
“Stranger things have come to pass,” said Dorothy; “and one reads in story-hooks of young nobles marrying village maidens in spite of parental opposition. I dare say you will get nobody’s consent to the marriage but mine, Richard.”
“I dare say not,” he replied, rather blankly.
“That is, if she should not turn out to be somebody’s daughter,” pursued Dorothy; “somebody, I mean, quite as great as the heir of Middleton, which I make no doubt she will.”
“I hope she may,” replied Richard.
“Why, you don’t mean to say you wouldn’t marry her if she didn’t!” cried Dorothy. “I’m ashamed of you, Richard.”
“It would remove all opposition, at all events,” said her brother.
“So it would,” said Dorothy; “and now I’ll tell you another notion of mine, Richard. Somehow or other, it has come into my head that Alizon is the daughter of — whom do you think?”
“Whom!” he cried.
“Guess,” she rejoined.
“I can’t,” he exclaimed, impatiently.
“Well, then, I’ll tell you without more ado,” she answered. “Mind, it’s only my notion, and I’ve no precise grounds for it. But, in my opinion, she’s the daughter of the lady who has just left the room.”
“Of Mistress Nutter!” ejaculated Richard, starting. “What makes you think so?”
“The extraordinary and otherwise unaccountable interest she takes in her,” replied Dorothy. “And, if you recollect, Mistress Nutter had an infant daughter who was lost in a strange manner.”
“I thought the child died,” replied Richard; “but it may be as you say. I hope it is so.”
“Time will show,” said Dorothy; “but I have made up my mind about the matter.”
At this moment Nicholas Assheton came up to them, looking grave and uneasy.
“What has happened?” asked Richard, anxiously.
“I have just received some very unpleasant intelligence,” replied Nicholas. “I told you of a menace uttered by that confounded Potts, on quitting me after his ducking. He has now spoken out plainly, and declares he overheard part of a conversation between Mistress Nutter and Elizabeth Device, which took place in the ruins of the convent church this morning, and he is satisfied that—”
“Well!” cried Richard, breathlessly.
“That Mistress Nutter is a witch, and in league with witches,” continued Nicholas.
“Ha!” exclaimed Richard, turning deathly pale.
“I suspect the rascal has invented the charge,” said Nicholas; “but he is quite unscrupulous enough to make it; and, if made, it will be fatal to our relative’s reputation, if not to her life.”
“It is false, I am sure of it,” cried Richard, torn by conflicting emotions.
“Would I could think so!” cried Dorothy, suddenly recollecting Mistress Nutter’s strange demeanour in the little chapel, and the unaccountable influence she seemed to exercise over the old crone. “But something has occurred to-day that leads me to a contrary conviction.”
“What is it? Speak!” cried Richard.
“Not now — not now,” replied Dorothy.
“Whatever suspicions you may entertain, keep silence, or you will destroy Mistress Nutter,” said Nicholas.
“Fear me not,” rejoined Dorothy. “Oh, Alizon!” she murmured, “that this unhappy question should arise at such a moment.”
“Do you indeed believe the charge, Dorothy?” asked Richard, in a low voice.
“I do,” she answered in the same tone. “If Alizon be her daughter, she can never be your wife.”
“How?” cried Richard.
“Never — never!” repeated Dorothy, emphatically. “The daughter of a witch, be that witch named Elizabeth Device or Alice Nutter, is no mate for you.”
“You prejudge Mistress Nutter, Dorothy,” he cried.
“Alas! Richard. I have too good reason for what I say,” she answered, sadly.
Richard uttered an exclamation of despair. And on the instant the lively sounds of tabor and pipe, mixed with the jingling of bells, arose from the court-yard, and presently afterwards an attendant entered to announce that the May-day revellers were without, and directions were given by Sir Ralph that they should be shown into the great banqueting-hall below the gallery, which had been prepared for their reception.
* * *
CHAPTER VIII. — THE REVELATION.
On quitting the long gallery, Mistress Nutter and Alizon ascended a wide staircase, and, traversing a corridor, came to an antique, tapestried chamber, richly but cumbrously furnished, having a carved oak bedstead with sombre hangings, a few high-backed chairs of the same material, and a massive wardrobe, with shrine-work atop, and two finely sculptured figures, of the size of life, in the habits of Cistertian monks, placed as supporters at either extremity. At one side of the bed the tapestry was drawn aside, showing the entrance to a closet or inner room, and opposite it there was a great yawning fireplace, with a lofty mantelpiece and chimney projecting beyond the walls. The windows were narrow, and darkened by heavy transom bars and small diamond panes while the view without, looking upon Whalley Nab, was obstructed by the contiguity of a tall cypress, whose funereal branches added to the general gloom. The room was one of those formerly allotted to their guests by the hospitable abbots, and had undergone little change since their time, except in regard to furniture; and even that appeared old and faded now. What with the gloomy arras, the shrouded bedstead, and the Gothic wardrobe with its mysterious figures, the chamber had a grim, ghostly air, and so the young girl thought on entering it.
“I have brought you hither, Alizon,” said Mistress Nutter, motioning her to a
seat, “that we may converse without chance of interruption, for I have much to say. On first seeing you to-day, your appearance, so superior to the rest of the May-day mummers, struck me forcibly, and I resolved to question Elizabeth Device about you. Accordingly I bade her join me in the Abbey gardens. She did so, and had not long left me when I accidentally met you and the others in the Lacy Chapel. When questioned, Elizabeth affected great surprise, and denied positively that there was any foundation for the idea that you were other than her child; but, notwithstanding her asseverations, I could see from her confused manner that there was more in the notion than she chose to admit, and I determined to have recourse to other means of arriving at the truth, little expecting my suspicions would be so soon confirmed by Mother Chattox. To my interrogation of that old woman, you were yourself a party, and I am now rejoiced that you interfered to prevent me from prosecuting my inquiries to the utmost. There was one present from whom the secret of your birth must be strictly kept — at least, for awhile — and my impatience carried me too far.”
“I only obeyed a natural impulse, madam,” said Alizon; “but I am at a loss to conceive what claim I can possibly have to the consideration you show me.”
“Listen to me, and you shall learn,” replied Mistress Nutter. “It is a sad tale, and its recital will tear open old wounds, but it must not be withheld on that account. I do not ask you to bury the secrets I am about to impart in the recesses of your bosom. You will do so when you learn them, without my telling you. When little more than your age I was wedded; but not to him I would have chosen if choice had been permitted me. The union I need scarcely say was unhappy — most unhappy — though my discomforts were scrupulously concealed, and I was looked upon as a devoted wife, and my husband as a model of conjugal affection. But this was merely the surface — internally all was strife and misery. Erelong my dislike of my husband increased to absolute hate, while on his part, though he still regarded me with as much passion as heretofore, he became frantically jealous — and above all of Edward Braddyll of Portfield, who, as his bosom friend, and my distant relative, was a frequent visiter at the house. To relate the numerous exhibitions of jealousy that occurred would answer little purpose, and it will be enough to say that not a word or look passed between Edward and myself but was misconstrued. I took care never to be alone with our guest — nor to give any just ground for suspicion — but my caution availed nothing. An easy remedy would have been to forbid Edward the house, but this my husband’s pride rejected. He preferred to endure the jealous torment occasioned by the presence of his wife’s fancied lover, and inflict needless anguish on her, rather than brook the jeers of a few indifferent acquaintances. The same feeling made him desire to keep up an apparent good understanding with me; and so far I seconded his views, for I shared in his pride, if in nothing else. Our quarrels were all in private, when no eye could see us — no ear listen.”
“Yours is a melancholy history, madam,” remarked Alizon, in a tone of profound interest.
“You will think so ere I have done,” returned the lady, sadly. “The only person in my confidence, and aware of my secret sorrows, was Elizabeth Device, who with her husband, John Device, then lived at Rough Lee. Serving me in the quality of tire-woman and personal attendant, she could not be kept in ignorance of what took place, and the poor soul offered me all the sympathy in her power. Much was it needed, for I had no other sympathy. After awhile, I know not from what cause, unless from some imprudence on the part of Edward Braddyll, who was wild and reckless, my husband conceived worse suspicions than ever of me, and began to treat me with such harshness and cruelty, that, unable longer to endure his violence, I appealed to my father. But he was of a stern and arbitrary nature, and, having forced me into the match, would not listen to my complaints, but bade me submit. ‘It was my duty to do so,’ he said, and he added some cutting expressions to the effect that I deserved the treatment I experienced, and dismissed me. Driven to desperation, I sought counsel and assistance from one I should most have avoided — from Edward Braddyll — and he proposed flight from my husband’s roof — flight with him.”
“But you were saved, madam?” cried Alizon, greatly shocked by the narration. “You were saved?”
“Hear me out,” rejoined Mistress Nutter. “Outraged as my feelings were, and loathsome as my husband was to me, I spurned the base proposal, and instantly quitted my false friend. Nor would I have seen him more, if permitted; but that secret interview with him was my first and last; — for it had been witnessed by my husband.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Alizon.
“Concealed behind the arras, Richard Nutter heard enough to confirm his worst suspicions,” pursued the lady; “but he did not hear my justification. He saw Edward Braddyll at my feet — he heard him urge me to fly — but he did not wait to learn if I consented, and, looking upon me as guilty, left his hiding-place to take measures for frustrating the plan, he supposed concerted between us. That night I was made prisoner in my room, and endured treatment the most inhuman. But a proposal was made by my husband, that promised some alleviation of my suffering. Henceforth we were to meet only in public, when a semblance of affection was to be maintained on both sides. This was done, he said, to save my character, and preserve his own name unspotted in the eyes of others, however tarnished it might be in his own. I willingly consented to the arrangement; and thus for a brief space I became tranquil, if not happy. But another and severer trial awaited me.”
“Alas, madam!” exclaimed Alizon, sympathisingly.
“My cup of sorrow, I thought, was full,” pursued Mistress Nutter; “but the drop was wanting to make it overflow. It came soon enough. Amidst my griefs I expected to be a mother, and with that thought how many fond and cheering anticipations mingled! In my child I hoped to find a balm for my woes: in its smiles and innocent endearments a compensation for the harshness and injustice I had experienced. How little did I foresee that it was to be a new instrument of torture to me; and that I should be cruelly robbed of the only blessing ever vouchsafed me!”
“Did the child die, madam?” asked Alizon.
“You shall hear,” replied Mistress Nutter. “A daughter was born to me. I was made happy by its birth. A new existence, bright and unclouded, seemed dawning upon me; but it was like a sunburst on a stormy day. Some two months before this event Elizabeth Device had given birth to a daughter, and she now took my child under her fostering care; for weakness prevented me from affording it the support it is a mother’s blessed privilege to bestow. She seemed as fond of it as myself; and never was babe more calculated to win love than my little Millicent. Oh! how shall I go on? The retrospect I am compelled to take is frightful, but I cannot shun it. The foul and false suspicions entertained by my husband began to settle on the child. He would not believe it to be his own. With violent oaths and threats he first announced his odious suspicions to Elizabeth Device, and she, full of terror, communicated them to me. The tidings filled me with inexpressible alarm; for I knew, if the dread idea had once taken possession of him, it would never be removed, while what he threatened would be executed. I would have fled at once with my poor babe if I had known where to go; but I had no place of shelter. It would be in vain to seek refuge with my father; and I had no other relative or friend whom I could trust. Where then should I fly? At last I bethought me of a retreat, and arranged a plan of escape with Elizabeth Device. Vain were my precautions. On that very night, I was startled from slumber by a sudden cry from the nurse, who was seated by the fire, with the child on her knees. It was long past midnight, and all the household were at rest. Two persons had entered the room. One was my ruthless husband, Richard Nutter; the other was John Device, a powerful ruffianly fellow, who planted himself near the door.
“Marching quickly towards Elizabeth, who had arisen on seeing him, my husband snatched the child from her before I could seize it, and with a violent blow on the chest felled me to the ground, where I lay helpless, speechless. With reeling senses I heard E
lizabeth cry out that it was her own child, and call upon her husband to save it. Richard Nutter paused, but re-assured by a laugh of disbelief from his ruffianly follower, he told Elizabeth the pitiful excuse would not avail to save the brat. And then I saw a weapon gleam — there was a feeble piteous cry — a cry that might have moved a demon — but it did not move him. With wicked words and blood-imbrued hands he cast the body on the fire. The horrid sight was too much for me, and I became senseless.”
“A dreadful tale, indeed, madam!” cried Alizon, frozen with horror.
“The crime was hidden — hidden from the eyes of men, but mark the retribution that followed,” said Mistress Nutter; her eyes sparkling with vindictive joy. “Of the two murderers both perished miserably. John Device was drowned in a moss-pool. Richard Nutter’s end was terrible, sharpened by the pangs of remorse, and marked by frightful suffering. But another dark event preceded his death, which may have laid a crime the more on his already heavily-burdened soul. Edward Braddyll, the object of his jealousy and hate, suddenly sickened of a malady so strange and fearful, that all who saw him affirmed it the result of witchcraft. None thought of my husband’s agency in the dark affair except myself; but knowing he had held many secret conferences about the time with Mother Chattox, I more than suspected him. The sick man died; and from that hour Richard Nutter knew no rest. Ever on horseback, or fiercely carousing, he sought in vain to stifle remorse. Visions scared him by night, and vague fears pursued him by day. He would start at shadows, and talk wildly. To me his whole demeanour was altered; and he strove by every means in his power to win my love. But he could not give me back the treasure he had taken. He could not bring to life my murdered babe. Like his victim, he fell ill on a sudden, and of a strange and terrible sickness. I saw he could not recover, and therefore tended him carefully. He died; and I shed no tear.”
“Alas!” exclaimed Alizon, “though guilty, I cannot but compassionate him.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 387