lord?"
"Why, you have shewn your wit upon the subject, and I mean to show yourcourage;--you, and Jack Markham your confident, shall sleep here threenights, as Edmund has done before."
"Sir," said Sir Robert, "for what purpose? I should be glad tounderstand why."
"I have my reasons, sir, as well as your kinsmen there. No reply, Sirs!I insist upon being obeyed in this point. Joseph, let the beds be wellaired, and every thing made agreeable to the gentlemen; If there is anycontrivance to impose upon me, they, I am sure, will have pleasure indetecting it; and, if not, I shall obtain my end in making these roomshabitable. Oswald, come with me; and the rest may go where they listtill dinner-time."
The Baron went with Oswald into the parlour.
"Now tell me, father," said he, "do you disapprove what I have done?"
"Quite the contrary, my lord," said he; "I entirely approve it."
"But you do not know all my reasons for it. Yesterday Edmund's behaviourwas different from what I have ever seen it--he is naturally frank andopen in all his ways; but he was then silent, thoughtful, absent; hesighed deeply, and once I saw tears stand in his eyes. Now, I dosuspect there is something uncommon in that apartment--that Edmund hasdiscovered the secret; and, fearing to disclose it, he is fled away fromthe house. As to this letter, perhaps he may have written it tohint that there is more than he dares reveal; I tremble at the hintscontained in it, though I shall appear to make light of it. But I andmine are innocent; and if Heaven discloses the guilt of others, I oughtto adore and submit to its decrees."
"That is prudently and piously resolved, my lord; let us do our duty,and leave events to Heaven."
"But, father, I have a further view in obliging my kinsmen to sleepthere:--if any thing should appear to them, it is better that it shouldonly be known to my own family; if there is nothing in it, I shall putto the proof the courage and veracity of my two kinsmen, of whom I thinkvery indifferently. I mean shortly to enquire into many things I haveheard lately to their disadvantage; and, if I find them guilty, theyshall not escape with impunity."
"My lord," said Oswald, "you judge like yourself; I wish you to makeenquiry concerning them, and believe the result will be to theirconfusion, and your Lordship will be enabled to re-establish the peaceof your family."
During this conversation, Oswald was upon his guard, lest any thingshould escape that might create suspicion. He withdrew as soon as hecould with decency, and left the Baron meditating what all these thingsshould mean; he feared there was some misfortune impending over hishouse, though he knew not from what cause.
He dined with his children and kinsmen, and strove to appear cheerful;but a gloom was perceivable through his deportment. Sir Robert wasreserved and respectful; Mr. William was silent and attentive; the restof the family dutifully assiduous to my Lord; only Wenlock and Markhamwere sullen and chagrined. The Baron detained the young men the wholeafternoon; he strove to amuse and to be amused; he shewed the greatestaffection and parental regard to his children, and endeavoured toconciliate their affections, and engage their gratitude by kindness.Wenlock and Markham felt their courage abate as the night approached;At the hour of nine, old Joseph came to conduct them to the hauntedapartment; they took leave of their kinsmen, and went up stairs withheavy hearts.
They found the chamber set in order for them, and a table spread withprovision and good liquor to keep up their spirits.
"It seems," said Wenlock, "that your friend Edmund was obliged to youfor his accommodations here."
"Sir," said Joseph, "his accommodations were bad enough the first night;but, afterwards, they were bettered by my lord's orders."
"Owing to your officious cares?" said Wenlock.
"I own it," said Joseph, "and I am not ashamed of it."
"Are you not anxious to know what is become of him?" said Markham.
"Not at all, sir; I trust he is in the best protection; so good a youngman as he is, is safe everywhere."
"You see, cousin Jack," said Wenlock, "how this villain has stole thehearts of my uncle's servants; I suppose this canting old fellow knowswhere he is, if the truth were known."
"Have you any further commands for me, gentlemen?" said the old man.
"No, not we."
"Then I am ordered to attend my lord, when you have done with me."
"Go, then, about your business."
Joseph went away, glad to be dismissed.
"What shall we do, cousin Jack," said Wenlock, "to pass away thetime?--it is plaguy dull sitting here."
"Dull enough," said Markham, "I think the best thing we can do, is to goto bed and sleep it away."
"Faith!" says Wenlock, "I am in no disposition to sleep. Who would havethought the old man would have obliged us to spend the night here?"
"Don't say us, I beg of you; it was all your own doing," repliedMarkham.
"I did not intend he should have taken me at my word."
"Then you should have spoken more cautiously. I have always beengoverned by you, like a fool as I am; you play the braggart, and Isuffer for it; But they begin to see through your fine-spun arts andcontrivances, and I believe you will meet with your deserts one day orother."
"What now? do you mean to affront me, Jack? Know, that some are bornto plan, others to execute; I am one of the former, thou of the latter.Know your friend, or--"
"Or what?" replied Markham; "do you mean to threaten me? If you do!"
"What then?" said Wenlock.
"Why, then, I will try which of us two is the best man, sir!"
Upon this Markham arose, and put himself into a posture of defence.Wenlock perceiving he was serious in his anger, began to soothe him;he persuaded, he flattered, he promised great things if he would becomposed. Markham was sullen, uneasy, resentful; whenever he spoke, itwas to upbraid Wenlock with his treachery and falsehood. Wenlocktried all his eloquence to get him into a good humour, but in vain; hethreatened to acquaint his uncle with all that he knew, and to exculpatehimself at the other's expence. Wenlock began to find his choler rise;they were both almost choaked with rage; and, at length, they both rosewith a resolution to fight.
As they stood with their fists clenched, on a sudden they were alarmedwith a dismal groan from the room underneath. They stood like statuespetrified by fear, yet listening with trembling expectation. A secondgroan increased their consternation; and, soon after, a third completedit. They staggered to a seat, and sunk down upon it, ready to faint.Presently, all the doors flew open, a pale glimmering light appeared atthe door, from the staircase, and a man in complete armour entered theroom. He stood, with one hand extended, pointing to the outward door;they took the hint, and crawled away as fast as fear would let them;they staggered along the gallery, and from thence to the Baron'sapartment, where Wenlock sunk down in a swoon, and Markham had juststrength enough to knock at the door.
The servant who slept in the outward room alarmed his lord.
Markham cried out, "For Heaven's sake, let us in!"
Upon hearing his voice, the door was opened, and Markham approachedhis Uncle in such an attitude of fear, as excited a degree of it in theBaron. He pointed to Wenlock, who was with some difficulty recoveredfrom the fit he was fallen into; the servant was terrified, he rung thealarm-bell; the servants came running from all parts to their Lord'sapartment; The young gentlemen came likewise, and presently all wasconfusion, and the terror was universal. Oswald, who guessed thebusiness, was the only one that could question them. He asked severaltimes,
"What is the matter?"
Markham, at last, answered him, "We have seen the ghost!"
All regard to secrecy was now at an end; the echo ran through the wholefamily--"They have seen the ghost!"
The Baron desired Oswald to talk to the young men, and endeavour toquiet the disturbance. He came forward; he comforted some, he rebukedothers; he had the servants retire into the outward room. The Baron,with his sons and kinsmen, remained in the bed-chamber.
"It is very unfortunate," said Oswald, "that t
his affair should be madeso public; surely these young men might have related what they had seen,without alarming the whole family. I am very much concerned upon mylord's account."
"I thank you, father," said the Baron; "but prudence was quiteoverthrown here. Wenlock was half dead, and Markham half distracted; thefamily were alarmed without my being able to prevent it. But let us hearwhat these poor terrified creatures say."
Oswald demanded, "What have you seen, gentlemen?"
"The ghost!" said Markham.
"In what form did it appear?"
"A man in armour."
"Did it speak to you?"
"No."
"What did it do to terrify you so much?"
"It stood at the farthest door, and pointed to the outward door, as ifto have us leave the room; we did not wait for a second notice, but cameaway as fast as we could."
"Did it follow you?"
"No."
"Then you need not have raised such a disturbance."
Wenlock lifted up his head, and spoke--
"I believe, father, if you had been with us, you would not have stoodupon ceremonies any more than we did. I wish my lord would send you toparley with the ghost; for, without doubt, you are better qualified thanwe."
"My Lord," said Oswald, "I will go thither, with your permission; I willsee that every thing is safe, and bring the key back to you; Perhapsthis may help to dispel the fears that have been raised--at least, Iwill try to do it."
"I thank you, father, for your good offices--do as you please."
Oswald went into the outward room. "I am going," said he, "to shut upthe apartment. The young gentlemen have been more frightened than theyhad occasion for; I will try to account for it. Which of you will gowith me?"
They all drew back, except Joseph, who offered to bear him company. Theywent into the bedroom in the haunted apartment, and found every thingquiet there. They put out the fire, extinguished the lights, lockedthe door, and brought away the key. As they returned, "I thought how itwould be," said Joseph.
"Hush! not a word," said Oswald; "you find we are suspected ofsomething, though they know not what. Wait till you are called upon, andthen we will both speak to purpose." They carried the key to the Baron.
"All is quiet in the apartment," said Oswald, "as we can testify."
"Did you ask Joseph to go with you," said the Baron, "or did he offerhimself?"
"My Lord, I asked if any body would go with me, and they all declined itbut he; I thought proper to have a witness beside myself, for whatevermight be seen or heard."
"Joseph, you were servant to the late Lord Lovel; what kind of man washe?"
"A very comely man, please your lordship."
"Should you know him if you were to see him?"
"I cannot say, my lord."
"Would you have any objection to sleep a night in that apartment?"
"I beg,"--"I hope,"--"I beseech your lordship not to command me todo it!"
"You are then afraid; why did you offer yourself to go thither?"
"Because I was not so much frightened as the rest."
"I wish you would lie a night there; but I do not insist upon it."
"My lord, I am a poor ignorant old man, not fit for such an undertaking;beside, if I should see the ghost, and if it should be the person of mymaster, and if it should tell me any thing, and bid me keep it secret, Ishould not dare to disclose it; and then, what service should I do yourlordship?"
"That is true, indeed," said the Baron.
"This speech," said Sir Robert, "is both a simple and an artful one. Yousee, however, that Joseph is not a man for us to depend upon; he regardsthe Lord Lovel, though dead, more than Lord Fitz-Owen, living; he callshim his master, and promises to keep his secrets. What say you, father,Is the ghost your master, or your friend? Are you under any obligationto keep his secrets?"
"Sir," said Oswald, "I answer as Joseph does; I would sooner die thandiscover a secret revealed in that manner."
"I thought as much," said Sir Robert; "there is a mystery in FatherOswald's behaviour, that I cannot comprehend."
"Do not reflect upon the father," said the Baron; "I have no cause tocomplain of him; perhaps the mystery may be too soon explained; but letus not anticipate evils. Oswald and Joseph have spoken like good men;I am satisfied with their answers; let us, who are innocent, rest inpeace; and let us endeavour to restore peace in the family; and do you,father, assist us."
"With my best services," said Oswald. He called the servants in. "Letnothing be mentioned out of doors," said he, "of what has lately passedwithin, especially in the east apartment; the young gentlemen had not somuch reason to be frightened as they apprehended; a piece of furniturefell down in the rooms underneath, which made the noise that alarmedthem so much; but I can certify that all things in the rooms are inquiet, and there is nothing to fear. All of you attend me in the chapelin an hour; do your duties, put your trust in God, and obey your Lord,and you will find every thing go right as it used to do."
They dispersed; the sun rose, the day came on, and every thing went onin the usual course; but the servants were not so easily satisfied; theywhispered that something was wrong, and expected the time that shouldset all right. The mind of the Baron was employed in meditating uponthese circumstances, that seemed to him the forerunners of some greatevents; he sometimes thought of Edmund; he sighed for his expulsion, andlamented the uncertainty of his fate; but, to his family, he appearedeasy and satisfied.
From the time of Edmund's departure, the fair Emma had many uneasyhours; she wished to enquire after him, but feared to shew anysolicitude concerning him. The next day, when her brother William cameinto her apartment, she took courage to ask a question.
"Pray, brother, can you give any guess what is become of Edmund?"
"No," said he, with a sigh; "why do you ask me?"
"Because, my dear William, I should think if any body knew, it must beyou; and I thought he loved you too well to leave you in ignorance. Butdon't you think he left the castle in a very strange manner?"
"I do, my dear; there is a mystery in every circumstance of hisdeparture; Nevertheless (I will trust you with a secret), he did notleave the castle without making a distinction in my favour."
"I thought so," said she; "but you might tell me what you know abouthim."
"Alas, my dear Emma! I know nothing. When I saw him last, he seemeda good deal affected, as if he were taking leave of me; and I had aforeboding that we parted for a longer time than usual."
"Ah! so had I," said she, "when he parted from me in the garden."
"What leave did he take of you, Emma?"
She blushed, and hesitated to tell him all that passed between them;but he begged, persuaded, insisted; and, at length, under the strongestinjunctions of secrecy, she told him all.
He said, "That Edmund's behaviour on that occasion was as mysteriousas the rest of his conduct; but, now you have revealed your secret, youhave a right to know mine."
He then gave her the letter he found upon his pillow; she read it withgreat emotion.
"Saint Winifred assist me!" said she; "what can I think? 'The peasantEdmund is no more, but there lives one,'--that is to my thinking, Edmundlives, but is no peasant."
"Go on, my dear," said William; "I like your explanation."
"Nay, brother, I only guess; but what think you?"
"I believe we think alike in more than one respect, that he meant torecommend no other person than himself to your favour; and, if he wereindeed of noble birth, I would prefer him to a prince for a husband tomy Emma!"
"Bless me!" said she, "do you think it possible that he should be ofeither birth or fortune?"
"It is hard to say what is impossible! we have proof that the eastapartment is haunted. It was there that Edmund was made acquainted withmany secrets, I doubt not: and, perhaps, his own fate may be involved inthat of others. I am confident that what he saw and heard there, was thecause of his departure. We must wait with patience the unravelling this
intricate affair; I believe I need not enjoin your secrecy as to what Ihave said; your heart will be my security."
"What mean you, brother?"
"Don't affect ignorance, my dear; you love Edmund, so do I; it isnothing to be ashamed of. It would have been strange, if a girl of yourgood sense had not distinguished a swan among a flock of geese."
"Dear William, don't let a word of this escape you; but you have takena weight off my heart. You may depend that I will not dispose of my handor heart till I know the end of this affair."
William smiled: "Keep them for Edmund's friend; I shall rejoice to seehim in a situation to ask them."
"Hush, my brother! not a word more; I hear footsteps."
They were her eldest brother's, who came to ask Mr. William to ride outwith him, which finished the conference.
The fair Emma from this time assumed an air of satisfaction; and Williamfrequently stole away from his companions to talk with his sister upontheir favourite subject.
While these things passed at the castle of Lovel, Edmund and hiscompanion John Wyatt proceeded on their journey to Sir Philip Harclay'sseat; they conversed together on the way, and