St. George and St. Michael

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE ENCHANTED CHAIR.

  In the castle things went on much the same, nor did the gathering tumultwithout wake more than an echo within. Yet a cloud slowly deepened uponthe brow of the marquis, and a look of disquiet, to be explained neitherby the more frequent returns of his gout, nor by the more lengthenedabsences of his favourite son. In his judgment the king was losingground, not only in England but in the deeper England of its men. LadyMargaret also, for all her natural good spirits and light-heartedness,showed a more continuous anxiety than was to be accounted for by herlord's absences and the dangers he had to encounter: little Molly, thetreasure of her heart next to her lord, had never been other than adelicate child, but now had begun to show signs of worse than weaknessof constitution, and the heart of the mother was perpetually broodingover the ever-present idea of her sickly darling.

  But she always did her endeavour to clear the sky of her countenancebefore sitting down with her father-in-law at the dinner-table, wherestill the marquis had his jest almost as regularly as his claret,although varying more in quality and quantity both--now teasing his sonCharles about the holes in his pasteboard, as he styled the castlewalls; now his daughter Anne about a design, he and no one elseattributed to her, of turning protestant and marrying Dr. Bayly; now Dr.Bayly about his having been discovered blowing the organ in the chapelat high mass, as he said; for when no new joke was at hand he was fainto content himself with falling back upon old ones. The first of thesementioned was founded on the fact, as undeniable as deplorable, of theweakness of many portions of the defences, to remedy which, as far asmight be, was for the present lord Charles's chief endeavour, wherein hehad the best possible adviser, engineer, superintendent, and workman,all in the person of Caspar Kaltoff. The second jest of the marquis wasa pure invention upon the liking of lady Anne for the company andconversation of the worthy chaplain. The last mentioned was but anexaggeration of the following fact.

  One evening the doctor came upon young Delaware, loitering about thedoor of the chapel, with as disconsolate a look as his lovely sightlessface was ever seen to wear, and, inquiring what was amiss with him,learned that he could find no one to blow the organ bellows for him. Theyouth had for years, boy as he still was, found the main solace of hisblindness in the chapel-organ, upon which he would have played frommorning to night could he have got any one to blow as long. The doctor,then, finding the poor boy panting for music like the hart for thewater-brooks, but with no Jacob to roll the stone from the well's mouththat he might water the flocks of his thirsty thoughts, made willingproffer of his own exertions to blow the bellows of the organ, so longas the somewhat wheezy bellows of his body would submit to the task.

  By degrees however the good doctor had become so absorbed in the soundsthat rushed, now wailing, now jubilant, now tender as a twilight wind,now imperious as the voice of the war-tempest, from the fingers of theraptured boy, that the reading of the first vesper-psalm had commencedwhile he was yet watching the slow rising index, in the expectation thatthe organist was about to resume. The voice of his Irishbrother-chaplain, Sir Toby Mathews, roused him from his reverie ofdelight, and as one ashamed he stole away through the door that led fromthe little organ loft into the minstrel's gallery in the great hall, andso escaped the catholic service, but not the marquis's roasting. Whetherthe music had any share in the fact that the good man died a goodcatholic at last, I leave to the speculation of who list.

  Lady Margaret continued unchangingly kind to Dorothy; and the tirelessefforts of the girl to amuse and please poor little Molly, whom thegrowing warmth of the season seemed to have no power to revive, awokethe deep gratitude of a mother. This, as well as her husband's absences,may have had something to do with the interest she began to take in theengine of which Dorothy had assumed the charge, for which she had alwayshitherto expressed a special dislike, professing to regard it as herrival in the affections of her husband, but after which she would nowinquire as Dorothy's baby, and even listen with patience to herexpositions of its wonderful construction and capabilities. Ere longDorothy had a tale to tell her in connection with the engine, which,although simple and uneventful enough, she yet found considerably moreinteresting, as involving a good deal of at least mental adventure onthe part of her young cousin.

  One evening, after playing with little Molly for an hour, then puttingher to bed and standing by her crib until she fell asleep, Dorothy ranto see to her other baby; for the cistern had fallen rather lower thanshe thought well, and she was going to fill it. She found Caspar hadlighted the furnace as she had requested; she set the engine going, andit soon warmed to its work.

  The place was hot, and Dorothy was tired. But where in that wide and notover-clean place should she find anything fitter than a grindstone tosit upon? Never yet, through all her acquaintance with the workshop, hadshe once seated herself in it. Looking about, however, she soon espied,almost hidden in the corner of a recess behind the furnace, what seemedan ordinary chair, such as stood in the great hall for the use of thefamily when anything special was going on there. With some trouble shegot it out, dusted it, and set it as far from the furnace as might be,consistently with watching the motions of the engine. But the moment shesat down in it, she was caught and pinned so fast that she couldscarcely stir hand or foot, and could no more leave it again than if shehad been paralyzed in every limb. One scream she uttered of mingledindignation and terror, fancying herself seized by human arms; but whenshe found herself only in the power of one of her cousin's curiosities,she speedily quieted herself and rested in peace, for Caspar always paida visit to the workshop the last thing before going to bed. The pressureof the springs that had closed the trap did not hurt her in theleast--she was indeed hardly sensible of it; but when she made the leastattempt to stir, the thing showed itself immovably locked, and she hadtoo much confidence in the workmanship of her cousin and Caspar to dreamof attempting to open it: that she knew must be impossible. The worstthat threatened her was that the engine might require some attentionbefore the hour, or perhaps two, which must elapse ere Caspar came wouldbe over, and she did not know what the consequences might be.

  As it happened, however, something either in the powder-mill or aboutthe defences detained Caspar far beyond his usual hour for retiring, andthe sultriness of the weather having caused him a headache, herepresented to himself that, with mistress Dorothy tending the engine,who knew where and would be sure to find him upon the least occasion,there could be no harm in his going to bed without paying his usualprecautionary visit to the keep.

  So Dorothy sat, and waited in vain. The last drops of the day trickleddown the side of the world, the night filled the crystal globe from itsbottom of rock to its cover of blue aether, and the red glow of thefurnace was all that lighted the place. She waited and waited in hermind; but Caspar did not come. She began to feel miserable. The furnacefire sank, and the rush of the water grew slower and slower, and ceased.Caspar did not come. The fire sank lower and lower, its red eye dimmed,darkened, went out. Still Caspar did not come. Faint fears began togather about poor Dorothy's heart. It was clear at last that there shemust be all the night long, and who could tell how far into the morning?It was good the night was warm, but it would be very dreary. And then tobe fixed in one position for so long! The thought of it grew in miseryfaster than the thing itself. The greater torment lies always in theforeboding. She felt almost as if she were buried alive. Having theirhands tied even, is enough to drive strong men almost crazy. Nor, firmof heart as she was, did no evils of a more undefined and lessresistible character claim a share in her fast-rising apprehensions; shebegan to discover that she too was assailable by the terror of thenight, although she had not hitherto been aware of it, no one knowingwhat may lie unhatched in his mind, waiting the concurrence of vitalconditions.

  But Dorothy was better able to bear up under such assaults thanthousands who believe nothing of many a hideous marvel commonly acceptedin her day; and anyhow the unavoidable must be encountered
, if not withindifference, yet with what courage may be found responsive to the callof the will. So, with all her energy, a larger store than she knew, shebraced herself to endure. As to any attempt to make herself heard, sheknew from the first that was of doubtful result, and now must certainlybe of no avail when all but the warders were asleep. But to spend thenight thus was a far less evil than to be discovered by the staringdomestics, and exposed to the open merriment of her friends, and thehidden mockery of her enemies. As to Caspar, she was certain of hissilence. So she sat on, like the lady in Comus, 'in stony fetters fixedand motionless;' only, as she said to herself, there was no attendantspirit to summon Caspar, who alone could take the part of Sabrina, and'unlock the clasping charm.' Little did Dorothy think, as in her drearyimprisonment she recalled that marvellous embodiment of unified strengthand tenderness, as yet unacknowledged of its author, that it was thework of the same detestable fanatic who wrote those appalling'Animadversions, &c.'

  She grew chilly and cramped. The night passed very slowly. She dozed andwoke, and dozed again. At last, from very weariness of both soul andbody, she fell into a troubled sleep, from which she woke suddenly withthe sound in her ears of voices whispering. The confidence of lordHerbert, both in the evil renown of his wizard cave and the character ofhis father's household, seemed mistaken. Still the subdued manner oftheir conversation appeared to indicate it was not without some awe thatthe speakers, whoever they were, had ventured within the forbiddenprecincts; their whispers, indeed, were so low that she could not say ofeither voice whether it belonged to man or woman. Her first idea was todeliver herself from the unpleasantness of her enforced espial by theutterance of some frightful cry such as would at the same time punishwith the pains of terror their fool-hardy intrusion. But the spur of themoment was seldom indeed so sharp with Dorothy as to drive her to actwithout reflection, and a moment showed her that such persons being inthe marquis's household as would meet in the middle of the night, and onprohibited ground, apparently for the sake of avoiding discovery, andeven then talked in whispers, he had a right to know who they were: toact from her own feelings merely would be to fail in loyalty to the headof the house. Who could tell what might not be involved in it? For wasit not thus that conspiracy and treason walked? And any alarm given themnow might destroy every chance of their discovery. She compelled herselftherefore to absolute stillness, immeasurably wretched, with but onecomfort--no small one, however, although negative--that their wordscontinued inaudible, a fact which doubtless saved much dispute betwixther propriety and her loyalty.

  Long time their talk lasted. Every now and then they would start andlisten--so Dorothy interpreted sudden silence and broken renewals. Thegenius of the place, although braved, had yet his terrors. At length sheheard something like a half-conquered yawn, and soon after the voicesceased.

  Again a weary time, and once more she fell asleep. She woke in the greyof the morning, and after yet two long hours, but of more hopefulwaiting, she heard Caspar's welcome footsteps, and summoned all herstrength to avoid breaking down on his entrance. His first look ofamazement she tried to answer with a smile, but at the expression ofpitiful dismay which followed when another glance had revealed the causeof her presence, she burst into tears. The honest man was full ofcompunctious distress at the sight of the suffering his breach of customhad so cruelly prolonged.

  'And I haf bin slap in mine bed!' he exclaimed with horror at thecontrast.

  Had she been his daughter and his mistress both in one, he could nothave treated her with greater respect or tenderness. Of course he setabout relieving her at once, but this was by no means such an easymatter as Dorothy had expected. For the key of the chair was in theblack cabinet; the black cabinet was secured with one of lord Herbert'smarvellous locks; the key of that lock was in lord Herbert's pocket, andlord Herbert was either in bed at Chepstow or Monmouth or Usk orCaerlyon, or on horseback somewhere else, nobody in Raglan knew where.But Caspar lost no time in unavailing moan. He proceeded at once tolight a fire on his forge hearth, and in the course of a few minutes hadfashioned a pick-lock, by means of which, after several trials andalterations, at length came the welcome sound of the yielding bolts, andDorothy rose from the terrible chair. But so benumbed were all her limbsthat she escaped being relocked in it only by the quick interposition ofCaspar's arms. He led her about like a child, until at length she foundthem sufficiently restored to adventure the journey to her chamber, andthither she slowly crept. Few of the household were yet astir, and shemet no one. When she was covered up in bed, then first she knew how coldshe was, and felt as if she should never be warm again.

  At last she fell asleep, and slept long and soundly. Her maid went tocall her, but finding it difficult to wake her, left her asleep, and didnot return until breakfast was over. Then finding her still asleep shebecame a little anxious, and meeting mistress Amanda, told her she wasafraid mistress Dorothy was ill. But mistress Amanda was herself sleepyand cross, and gave her a sharp answer, whereupon the girl went to ladyBroughton. She, however, being on her way to morning mass, for it wasSunday, told her to let mistress Dorothy have her sleep out.

  The noise of horses' hoofs upon the paving of the stone court rousedher, and then in came the sounds of the organ from the chapel. She roseconfounded, and hurrying to the window drew back the curtain. The samemoment lord Herbert walked from the hall into the fountain-court inriding dress, followed by some forty or fifty officers, the noise ofwhose armour and feet and voices dispelled at once the dim Sabbathfeeling that hung vapour-like about the place. They gathered around thewhite horse, leaning or sitting on the marble basin, some talking ineager groups, others folding their arms in silence, listening, or lostheedless in their own thoughts, while their leader entered the staircasedoor at the right-hand corner of the western gate, the nearest way tohis wife's apartment of the building.

  Now Dorothy had gone to sleep in perplexity, and all through her dreamshad been trying to answer the question what course she should take withregard to the nocturnal intrusion. If she told lady Margaret she couldbut go with it to the marquis, and he was but just recovering from anattack of the gout, and ought not to be troubled except it wereabsolutely necessary. Was it, or was it not, necessary? Or was there noone else to whom she might with propriety betake herself in herdoubt--lord Charles or Dr. Bayly? But here now was lord Herbert comeback, and doubt there was none any more. She dressed herself intremulous haste, and hurried to lady Margaret's room, where she hoped tosee him. No one was there, and she tried the nursery, but finding onlyMolly and her attendant, returned to the parlour, and there seatedherself to wait, supposing lady Margaret and he had gone together tomorning service.

  They had really gone to the oak parlour, whither the marquis generallymade his first move after an attack that had confined him to his room;for in the large window of that parlour, occupying nearly the whole sideof it towards the moat, he generally sat when well enough to be aboutand take cognizance of what was going on; and there they now found him.

  'Welcome home, Herbert!' he said, kindly, holding out his hand. 'And howdoes my wild Irishwoman this morning? Crying her eyes out because herhusband is come back, eh?--But, Herbert, lad, whence is all that noiseof spurs and scabbards--and in the fountain court, too? I heard them goclanking and clattering through the hall like a torrent of steel! Here Isit, a poor gouty old man, deserted of my children and servants--allgone to church--to serve a better Master--not a page or a maid left meto send out to see and bring me word what is the occasion thereof! I wason the point of hobbling to the door myself when you came.'

  'Being on my way to the forest of Dean, my lord, and coming round byRaglan to inquire after you and my lady, I did bring with me some of myofficers to dine and drink your lordship's health on our way.'

  'You shall all be welcome, though I fear I shall not make one,' said themarquis, with a grimace, for just then he had a twinge of the gout.

  'I am sorry to see you suffer, sir,' said his son.

  'Man is born unto
trouble as the sparks fly upward,' returned themarquis, giving a kick with the leg which contained his inheritance; andthen came a pause, during which lady Margaret left the room.

  'My lord,' said Herbert at length, with embarrassment, and forcinghimself to speak, 'I am sorry to trouble you again, after all the money,enough to build this castle from the foundations--'

  'Ah! ha!' interjected the marquis, but lord Herbert went on--

  'which you have already spent on behalf of the king, my master, but--'

  'YOUR master, Herbert!' said the marquis, testily. 'Well?'

  'I must have some more money for his pressing necessities.' In hisself-compulsion he had stumbled upon the wrong word.

  'MUST you?' cried the marquis angrily. 'Pray take it.'

  And drawing the keys of his treasury from the pocket of his frieze coat,he threw them down on the table before him. Lord Herbert reddened like agirl, and looked as much abashed as if he had been caught in somethingof which he was ashamed. One moment he stood thus, then said,

  'Sir, the word was out before I was aware. I do not intend to put itinto force. I pray will you put up your key again?'

  'Truly, son,' replied the marquis, still testily, but in a milder tone,'I shall think my keys not safe in my pocket whilst you have so manyswords by your side; nor that I have the command of my house whilst youhave so many officers in it; nor that I am at my own disposal, whilstyou have so many commanders.'

  'My lord,' replied Herbert, 'I do not intend that they shall stay in thecastle; I mean they shall be gone.'

  'I pray, let them. And have care that MUST do not stay behind,' said themarquis. 'But let them have their dinner first, lad.'

  Lord Herbert bowed, and left the room. Thereupon, in the presence oflady Margaret, who just then re-entered, good Dr. Bayly, who,unperceived by lord Herbert in his pre-occupation, had been presentduring the interview, stepped up to the marquis and said:

  'My good lord, the honourable confidence your lordship has reposed in meboldens me to do my duty as, in part at least, your lordship's humblespiritual adviser.'

  'Thou shouldst want no boldening to do thy duty, doctor,' said themarquis, making a wry face.

  'May I then beg of your lordship to consider whether you have not beenmore severe with your noble son than the occasion demanded, seeing notonly was the word uttered by a lapse of the tongue, but yourself heardmy lord express much sorrow for the overslip?'

  'What!' said lady Herbert, something merrily, but looking in the face ofher father-in-law with a little anxious questioning in her eyes, 'has mylord been falling out with my Ned?'

  'Hark ye, daughter!' answered the marquis, his face beaming withrestored good-humour, for the twinge in his toe had abated, 'and youtoo, my good chaplain!--if my son be dejected, I can raise him when Iplease; but it is a question, if he should once take a head, whether Icould bring him lower when I list. Ned was not wont to use suchcourtship to me, and I believe he intended a better word for his father;but MUST was for the king.'

  Returning to her own room, lady Margaret found Dorothy waiting for her.

  'Well, my little lig-a-bed!' she said sweetly, 'what is amiss with thee?Thou lookest but soberly.'

  'I am well, madam; and that I look soberly,' said Dorothy, 'you will notwonder when I tell you wherefore. But first, if it please you, I wouldpray for my lord's presence, that he too may know all.'

  'Holy mother! what is the matter, child?' cried lady Margaret, of lateeasily fluttered. 'Is it my lord Herbert you mean, or my lord ofWorcester?'

  'My lord Herbert, my lady. I dread lest he should be gone ere I havefound a time to tell him.'

  'He rides again after dinner,' said lady Margaret.

  'Then, dear my lady, if you would keep me from great doubt and disquiet,let me have the ear of my lord for a few moments.'

  Lady Margaret rang for her page, and sent him to find his master andrequest his presence in her parlour.

  Within five minutes lord Herbert was with them, and within five more,Dorothy had ended her tale of the night, uninterrupted save by ladyMargaret's exclamations of sympathy.

  'And now, my lord, what am I to do?' she asked in conclusion.

  Lord Herbert made no answer for a few moments, but walked up and downthe room. Dorothy thought he looked angry as well as troubled. He burstat length into a laugh, however, and said merrily,

  'I have it, ladies! I see how we may save my father much annoyancewithout concealment, for nothing must be concealed from him that in anyway concerns the house. But the annoyance arising from any directattempt at discovering the wrongdoers would be endless, and its failurealmost certain. But now, as I would plan it, instead of trouble myfather shall have laughter, and instead of annoyance such a jest as maymake him good amends for the wrong done him by the breach of hishousehold laws. Caspar has explained to you all concerning thewater-works, I believe, cousin?'

  'All, my lord. I may without presumption affirm that I can, so long asthere arises no mishap, with my own hand govern them all. Caspar has formany weeks left everything to me, save indeed the lighting of thefurnace-fire.'

  'That is as I would have it, cousin. So soon then as it is dark thisevening, you will together, you and Caspar, set the springs which lieunder the first stone of the paving of the bridge. Thereafter, as youknow, the first foot set upon it will drop the drawbridge to the stonebridge, and the same instant convert the two into an aqueduct, filledwith a rushing torrent from the reservoir, which will sweep theintruders away. Before they shall have either gathered their discomfitedwits or raised their prostrate bones, my father will be out upon them,nor shall they find shelter for their shame ere every soul in the castlehas witnessed their disgrace.'

  'I had thought of the plan, my lord; but I dreaded the punishment mightbe too severe, not knowing what the water might do upon them.'

  'There will be no danger to life, and little to limb,' said hislordship. 'The torrent will cease flowing the moment they are swept fromthe bridge. But they shall be both bruised and shamed; and,' added hislordship, with an oath such as seldom crossed his lips, 'in such timesas these, they will well deserve what shall befall them. Intrudinghounds!--But you must take heed, cousin Dorothy, that you forget notthat you have yourself done. Should you have occasion to go on thebridge after setting your vermin-trap, you must not omit to place yourfeet precisely where Caspar will show you, else you will have to ride awatery horse half-way, mayhap to the marble one--except indeed he throwyou from his back against the chapel-door.'

  When her husband talked in long sentences, as he was not unfrequentlygiven to do, lady Margaret, even when their sequences were not veryclear, seldom interrupted him: she had learned that she gained more byletting him talk on; for however circuitous the route he might take, henever forgot where he was going. He might obscure his object, but thereit always was. He was now again walking up and down the room, and,perceiving that he had not yet arranged all to his satisfaction, shewatched him with merriment in her Irish eyes, and waited.

  'I have it!' he cried again. 'It shall be so, and my father shall thushave immediate notice. The nights are weekly growing warmer, and he willnot therein be tempted to his hurt. Our trusty and well-beloved cousinDorothy, we herewith, in presence of our liege and lovely lady, appointthee our deputy during our absence. No one but thyself hath a right tocross the bridge after dark, save Caspar and the governor, whom with myfather I shall inform and warn concerning what is to be done. But I willmyself adjust the escape, so that the torrent shall not fall toopowerful; Caspar must connect it with the drawbridge, whose fall willthen open it. And pray remind him to see first that all the hinges andjoints concerned be well greased, that it may fall instantly.'

  So saying, he left the room, and sought out Caspar, with whom hecontrived the ringing of a bell in the marquis's chamber by thedrawbridge in its fall, the arrangement for which Caspar was to carryout that same evening after dark. He next sought his father, and toldhim and his brother Charles the whole story; nor did he find himselfwr
ong in his expectation that the prospect of so good a jest would gofar to console the marquis for the annoyance of finding that hishousehold was not quite such a pattern one as he had supposed. Thatthere was anything of conspiracy or treachery involved, he did not for amoment believe.

  After dinner, while the horses were brought out, lord Herbert went againto his wife's room. There was little Molly waiting to bid him good-bye,and she sat upon his knee until it was time for him to go. The child'slooks made his heart sad, and his wife could not restrain her tears whenshe saw him gaze upon her so mournfully. It was with a heavy heart that,when the moment of departure came, he rose, gave her into her mother'sarms, clasped them both in one embrace, and hurried from the room. Heought to be a noble king for whom such men and women make suchsacrifices.

  To witness such devotion on the part of personages to whom she looked upwith such respect and confidence, would have been in itself more thansufficient to secure for its object the unquestioning partisanship ofDorothy; partisan already, it raised her prejudice to a degree ofworship which greatly narrowed what she took for one of the widest gulfsseparating her from the creed of her friends. The favourite dogma of theschool-master-king, the offspring of his pride and weakness, had foundfitting soil in Dorothy. When, in the natural growth of the confidencereposed in her by her protectors, she came to have some idea of theimmensity of the sums spent by them on behalf of his son, had, indeed,ere the close of another year read the king's own handwriting andsignature in acknowledgment of a debt of a quarter of a million, shetook it only as an additional sign--for additional proof there was noroom--of their ever admirable devotion to his divine right. That themarquis and his son were catholics served but to glorify the right towhich a hostile faith yielded such practical homage.

  Immediately after nightfall she repaired to Caspar, and between themeverything was speedily arranged for the carrying out of lord Herbert'scounter-plot.

  But night after night passed, and the bell in the marquis's roomremained voiceless.