CHAPTER IX
THE SNARE
On the following morning, when Castell returned, Margaret told him ofthe visit of d'Aguilar, and of all that had passed between them, toldhim also that he was acquainted with their secret, since he had spokenof her as half a Jew.
"I know it, I know it," answered her father, who was much disturbed andvery angry, "for yesterday he threatened me also. But let that go, I cantake my chance; now I would learn who brought this man into my housewhen I was absent, and without my leave."
"I fear that it was Betty," said Margaret, "who swears that she thoughtshe did no wrong."
"Send for her," said Castell. Presently Betty came, and, beingquestioned, told a long story.
She said she was standing by the side door, taking the air, when Senord'Aguilar appeared, and, having greeted her, without more words walkedinto the house, saying that he had an appointment with the master.
"With me?" broke in Castell. "I was absent."
"I did not know that you were absent, for I was out when you rode awayin the afternoon, and no one had spoken of it to me, so, thinking thathe was your friend, I let him in, and let him out again afterwards. Thatis all I have to say."
"Then I have to say that you are a hussy and a liar, and that, in oneway or the other, this Spaniard has bribed you," answered Castellfiercely. "Now, girl, although you are my wife's cousin, and thereforemy daughter's kin, I am minded to turn you out on to the streetto starve."
At this Betty first grew angry, then began to weep; while Margaretpleaded with her father, saying that it would mean the girl's ruin, andthat he must not take such a sin upon him. So the end of it was, that,being a kind-hearted man, remembering also that Betty Dene was of hiswife's blood, and that she had favoured her as her daughter did, herelented, taking measures to see that she went abroad no more save inthe company of Margaret, and that the doors were opened only bymen-servants.
So this matter ended.
That day Margaret wrote to Peter, telling him of all that had happened,and how the Spaniard had asked her in marriage, though the words that heused she did not tell. At the end of her letter, also, she bade him haveno fear of the Senor d'Aguilar or of any other man, as he knew where herheart was.
When Peter received this writing he was much vexed to learn that bothMaster Castell and Margaret had incurred the enmity of d'Aguilar, for sohe guessed it must be, also that Margaret should have been troubled withhis love-making; but for the rest he thought little of the matter, whotrusted her as he trusted heaven. Still it made him anxious to return toLondon as soon as might he, even though he must take the risk of theSpaniards' daggers. Within three days, however, he received otherletters both from Castell and from Margaret, which set his fearsat rest.
These told him that d'Aguilar had sailed for Spain indeed, Castell saidthat he had seen him standing on the poop of the Ambassador de Ayala'svessel as it dropped down the Thames towards the sea. Moreover, Margarethad a note of farewell from his hand, which ran:
"Adieu, sweet lady, till that predestined hour whenwe meet again. I go, as I must, but, as I told you, yourimage goes with me.
"Your worshipper till death,
"MORELLA."
"He may take her image so long as I keep herself and if he comes backwith his worship, I promise him that death and he shall not be farapart," was Peter's grim comment as he laid the paper down. Then he wenton with his letters, which told that now, when the Spaniards had gone,and there was nothing more to fear, he was awaited in London. Indeed,Castell fixed a day when he should arrive--May 31st--that was within aweek, adding that on its morrow--namely, June 1st, for Margaret wouldnot be wed in May, the Virgin Mary's month, since she held it to beunlucky--their marriage might take place as quietly as they would.
Margaret wrote the same news, and in such sweet words that he kissed herletter, then hastened to answer it, shortly, after his custom, for Peterwas no great scribe, saying, that if the saints willed it he would bewith them by nightfall on the last day of May, and that in all Englandthere was no happier man than he.
* * * * *
Now all that week Margaret was very busy preparing her marriage robe,and other garments also, for it was settled that on the next day theyshould ride together down to Dedham, in Essex, whither her father wouldfollow them shortly. The Old Hall was not ready, indeed, nor would it befor some time; but Peter had furnished certain rooms in it which mightserve them for the summer season, and by winter time the house would befinished and open.
Castell was busy also, for now, having worked very hard at the task, hisship the _Margaret_ was almost refitted and laden, so that he hoped toget her to sea on this same May 31st, and thus be clear of the last ofhis business, except the handing over of his warehouses and stock tothose who had bought them. These great affairs kept him much atGravesend, where the ship lay, but, as he had no dread of furthertrouble now that d'Aguilar and the other Spaniards, among them that bandof de Ayala's servants who had vowed to take Peter's life, were gone,this did not disturb him.
Oh! happy, happy was Margaret during those sweet spring days, when herheart was bright and clear as the skies from which all winter storms hadpassed. So happy was she indeed, and so full of a hundred joyful cares,that she found no time to take note of her cousin Betty, who worked withher at her wedding broideries, and helped to make preparations for thejourney which should follow after. Had she done so, she might have seenthat Betty was anxious and distressed, like one who waited for sometidings that did not come, and from hour to hour fought against anguishand despair But she took no note, whose heart was too full of her ownmatters, and who did but count the hours till she should see her loverback and pass to his arms, a wife.
Thus the time went on until the appointed day of Peter's return, themorrow of her marriage, for which all things were now prepared, down toPeter's wedding garments, that were finer than any she had yet seen himwear, and the decking of the neighbouring church with flowers. In theearly morning her father rode away to Gravesend with the most of hismen-servants for the ship _Margaret_ was to sail at the following dawnand there was yet much to be done before she could lift anchor. Still,he had promised to be back by nightfall in time to meet Peter who,leaving Dedham that morning, could not reach them before then.
At length it was past four of the afternoon, and everything beingfinished, Margaret went to her room to dress herself anew, that shemight look fine in Peter's eyes when he should come. Betty she did nottake with her, for there were things to which her cousin must attend;moreover, her heart was so full that she wished to be alone a while.
Betty's heart was full also, but not with joy. She had been deceived.The fine Spanish Don, who had made her love him so desperately, hadsailed away and left her without a word. She could not doubt it, he hadbeen seen standing on the ship--and not one word. It was cruel, cruel,and now she must help another woman to be made a happy wife, she who wasbeggared of hope and love. Moodily, full of bitterness, she went abouther tasks, biting her lips and wiping her fine eyes with the sleeve ofher robe, when suddenly the door opened, and a servant, not one oftheir own, but a strange man who had been brought in to help at themorrow's feast, called out that a sailor wished to speak with her.
"Then let him enter here; I have no time to go out to listen to histalk," snapped Betty.
Presently the sailor was shown in, the man who brought him leaving theroom at once. He was a dark fellow, with sly black eyes, who, had he notspoken English so well, might have been taken for a Spaniard.
"Who are you, and what is your business?" asked Betty sharply.
"I am the carpenter of the ship _Margaret_," he answered, "and I am hereto say that our master Castell has met with an accident there, anddesires that Mistress Margaret, his daughter, should come to himat once."
"What accident?" asked Betty.
"In seeing to the stowage of cargo he slipped and fell down the hold,hurting his back and breaking his right arm, and that is why he canno
twrite. He is in great pain; but the physician whom we summoned bade metell Mistress Margaret that at present he has no fear for his life. Areyou Mistress Margaret?"
"No," answered Betty; "but I will go to her at once; do you bide here."
"Then are you her cousin, Mistress Betty Dene, for if so I havesomething for you?"
"I am. What is it?"
"This," said the man, drawing out a letter which he handed to her.
"Who gave you this?" asked Betty suspiciously. "I do not know hisname, but he was a noble-looking Spanish Don, and a liberal one too. Hehad heard of the accident on the _Margaret_, and, knowing my errand,asked me if I would deliver this letter to you, for the fee of a goldducat, and promise to say nothing of it to any one else."
"Some rude gallant, doubtless," said Betty, tossing her head; "they areever writing to me. Bide here; I go to Mistress Margaret."
Once she was outside the door Betty broke the seal of the letter eagerlyenough, for she had been taught with Margaret, and could read well.It ran:
"BELOVED,
"You thought me faithless and gone, but it is not so. I was silent only because I knew you could not come alone who are watched; but now the God of Love gives us our chance. Doubtless your cousin will bring you with her to visit her father, who lies on his ship sadly hurt. While she is with him I have made a plan to rescue you, and then we can be wed and sail at once--yes, to-night or to-morrow, for with much trouble, knowing that you wished it, I have even succeeded in bringing that about, and a priest will be waiting to marry us. Be silent, and show no doubt or fear, whatever happens, lest we should be parted for always. Be sure then that your cousin comes that you may accompany her. Remember that your true love waits you.
"C. d'A."
When Betty had mastered the contents of this amorous effusion she wentpale with joy, and turned so faint that she was like to fall. Then adoubt struck her that it might be some trick. No, she knew thewriting--it was d'Aguilar's, and he was true to her, and would marry heras he had promised, and take her to be a great lady in Spain. If shehesitated now she might lose him for ever--him whom she would follow tothe end of the world. In an instant her mind was made up, for Betty hadplenty of courage. She would go, even though she must desert the cousinwhom she loved.
Thrusting the letter into her bosom she ran to Margaret's room, and,bursting into it, told her of the man and his sad message. But of thatletter she said nothing. Margaret turned white at the news, then,recovering herself, said:
"I will come and speak with him at once." And together they went downthe stairs.
To Margaret the sailor repeated his story, nor could all her questionsshake it. He told her how the mischance had happened, for he had seenit, so he said, and where her father's hurts were, adding, that althoughthe physician held that as yet he was in no danger of his life, MasterCastell thought otherwise, and did nothing but cry that his daughtershould be brought to him at once.
Still Margaret doubted and hesitated, for she feared she knew not what.
"Peter should be here within two hours at most," she said to Betty."Would it not be best to wait for him?"
"Oh! Margaret, and what if your father should die in the meanwhile?Perhaps he knows better how deep his hurts are than does this leech. Ifso, you would have a sore heart for all your life. Sure you had bettergo, or at the least I will."
Still Margaret wavered, till the sailor said:
"Lady, if it is your will to come, I can guide you to where a boat waitsto take you across the river. If not, I must be gone, for the ship sailswith the moonrise, and they only wait your coming to carry the master,your father, to the warehouse on shore thinking it best that you shouldbe present. If you do not come, this will be done as gently as possible,and there you must seek him to-morrow, alive or dead." And the man tookup his cap as though to leave.
"I will come with you," said Margaret. "Betty you are right; order thetwo horses to be saddled mine and the groom's, with a pillion on whichyou can ride, for I will not send you or go alone, understand that thissailor has his own horse."
The man nodded, and accompanied Betty to the stable. Then Margaret tookpen and wrote hastily to Peter, telling him of their evil chance, andbidding him follow her at once to the ship, or, if it had sailed to thewarehouse. "I am loth to go," she added "alone with a girl and a strangeman, yet I must since my heart is torn with fear for my beloved father.Sweetheart, follow me quickly."
This done, she gave the letter to that servant who had shown in thesailor, bidding him hand it, without fail, to Master Peter Brome when hecame, which the man promised to do.
Then she fetched plain dark cloaks for herself and Betty, with hoods tothem, that their faces might not be seen, and presently theywere mounted.
"Stay!" said Margaret to the sailor as they were about to start. "Howcomes it that my father did not send one of his own men instead of you,and why did none write to me?"
The man looked surprised; he was a very good actor.
"His people were tending him," he said, "and he bade me to go because Iknew the way, and had a good, hired horse ashore which I have used whenriding with messages to London about new timbers and other matters. Asfor writing, the physician began a letter, but he was so slow and longthat Master Castell ordered me to be off without it. It seems," the manadded, addressing Betty with some irritation, "that Mistress Margaretmisdoubts me. If so, let her find some other guide, or bide at home. Itis naught to me, who have only done as I was bidden."
Thus did this cunning fellow persuade Margaret that her fears werenothing, though, remembering the letter from d'Aguilar, Betty wassomewhat troubled. The thing had a strange look, but, poor, vain fool,she thought to herself that, even if there were some trick, it wascertainly arranged only that she might seem to be taken, who could notcome alone. In truth she was blind and mad, and cared not what she did,though, let this be said for her, she never dreamed that any harm wasmeant towards her cousin Margaret, or that a lie had been told as toMaster Castell and his hurts.
Soon they were out of London, and riding swiftly by the road thatfollowed the north bank of the river, for their guide did not take themover the bridge, as he said the ship was lying in mid-stream and thatthe boat would be waiting on the Tilbury shore. But there was more thantwenty miles to travel, and, push on as they would, night had fallen ereever they came there. At length, when they were weary of the dark andthe rough road, the sailor pulled up at a spot upon the river'sbrink--where there was a little wharf, but no houses that they couldsee--saying that this was the place. Dismounting, he gave his horse tothe groom to hold, and, going to the wharf, asked in a loud voice if theboat from the _Margaret_ was there, to which a voice answered, "Aye."Then he talked for a minute to those in the boat, though what he saidthey could not hear, and ran back again, bidding them dismount, andadding that they had done well to come, as Master Castell was muchworse, and did nothing but cry for his daughter.
The groom he told to lead the horses a little way along the bank till hefound an inn that stood there, where he must await their return orfurther orders, and to Betty he suggested that she should go with him,as there was but little place left in the boat. This she was willingenough to do, thinking it all part of the plan for her carrying off; butMargaret would have none of it, saying that unless her cousin came withher she would not stir another step. So grumbling a little the sailorgave way, and hurried them both to some wooden steps and down these intoa boat, of which they could but dimly see the outline.
So soon as ever they were seated side by side in the stern it was pushedoff, and rowed away rapidly into the darkness, while one of the sailorslit a lantern which he fastened to the bow, and far out on the river, asthough in answer to the signal, another star of light appeared, towardswhich they headed. Now Margaret, speaking through the gloom, asked therowers of her father's state; but the sailor, their guide, prayed hernot to trouble them, as the tide ran very swiftly and they must give alltheir mind
to their business lest they should overset. So she wassilent, and, racked with doubts and fears, watched that star of lightgrowing ever nearer, till at length it hung above them.
"Is that the ship _Margaret_?" cried their guide, and again a voiceanswered "Aye."
"Then tell Master Castell that his daughter has come at last," heshouted again, and in another minute a rope had been thrown to them, andthey were fast alongside a ladder on to which Betty, who was nearest toit, was pushed the first, except for their guide, who had run up thewooden steps very swiftly.
Betty, who was active and strong, followed him, Margaret coming next. Asshe reached the deck Betty thought she heard a voice say in Spanish, ofwhich she understood something, "Fool! Why have you brought both?" butthe answer she could not catch. Then she turned and gave her hand toMargaret, and together they walked forward to the foot of the mast.
"Lead me to my father," said Margaret.
Whereon the guide answered:
"Yes, this way, Mistress, but come alone, for the sight of two of you atonce may disturb him."
"Nay," she answered, "my cousin comes with me." And she took Betty'shand and clung to it.
Shrugging his shoulders the sailor led them forwards, and as they wentshe noted that men were hauling on a sail, while other men, who sang astrange, wild song, worked on what seemed to be a windlass. Now theyreached a cabin, and entered it, the door being shut behind them. In thecabin a man sat at a table with a lamp hanging over his head. He roseand turned towards them, bowing, and Margaret saw that itwas--_d'Aguilar_!
Betty stood silent; she had expected to meet him, though not here andthus. Her foolish heart bounded so at the sight of him that she seemedto choke, and could only wonder dimly what mistake had been made, andhow he would explain to Margaret and get her away, leaving herself andhim together to be married. Indeed, she searched the cabin with her eyesto see where the priest was waiting, then noting a door beyond, thoughtthat doubtless he must be hidden there. As for Margaret, she uttered alittle stifled cry, then, being a brave woman, one of that high naturewhich grows strong in the face of trouble, straightened herself to herfull height and said in a low, fierce voice:
"What do you here? Where is my father?"
"Senora," he answered humbly, "I am on board my ship, the _San Antonio_,and as for your father, he is either on his ship, the _Margaret_, ormore likely, by now, at his house in Holborn."
At these words Margaret reeled back till the wall of the cabin stayedher, and there she rested.
"Spare me your reproaches," went on d'Aguilar hurriedly. "I will tellyou all the truth. First, be not anxious as to your father; no accidenthas happened to him; he is sound and well. Forgive me if you havesuffered pain and doubt; but there was no other way. That tale was onlyone of love's snares and tricks----" He paused, overcome, fascinated byMargaret's face, which of a sudden had grown awful--that of a goddess ofvengeance, of a Medusa, which seemed to chill his blood to ice.
"A snare! A trick!" she muttered hoarsely, while her eyes flamed on himlike burning stars. "Thus then I pay you for your tricks." And in aninstant he became aware that she had snatched a dagger from her bosomand was springing on him.
He could not move; those fearful eyes held him fast. In another momentthat steel would have pierced his heart. But Betty had seen also, and,thrusting her strong arms about Margaret, held her back, crying:
"Listen, you do not understand. It is I he wants--not you; I whom heloves, and who love him, and am about to marry him. You he will sendback home."
"Loose me," said Margaret, in such a voice that Betty's arms fell fromher, and she stood there, the dagger still in her hand. "Now," she saidto d'Aguilar, "the truth, and be swift with it. What means this woman?"
"She knows best," answered d'Aguilar uneasily. "It has pleased her towrap herself in this web of conceits."
"Which it has pleased you to spin, perchance. Speak, girl!"
"He made love to me," gasped Betty; "and I love him. He promised tomarry me. He sent me a letter but to-day--here it is," and she drewit out.
"Read," said Margaret; and Betty read.
"So _you_ have betrayed me," said Margaret, "you, my cousin, whom I havesheltered and cherished."
"No," cried Betty. "I never thought to betray you; sooner would I havedied. I believed that your father was hurt, and that while you werevisiting him that man would take me."
"What have you to say?" asked Margaret of d'Aguilar in the same dreadfulvoice. "You offered your accursed love to me--and to her, and you havesnared us both. Man, what have you to say?"
"Only this", he answered, trying to look brave, "that woman is a fool,whose vanity I played on that I might make use of her to keep nearto you."
"Do you hear, Betty? do you hear?" cried Margaret with a terrible littlelaugh; but Betty only groaned as though she were dying.
"I love you, and you only," went on d'Aguilar "As for your cousin, Iwill send her ashore. I have committed this sin because I could not helpmyself. The thought that you were to be married to another man to-morrowdrove me mad, and I dared all to take you from his arms, even though youshould never come to mine. Did I not swear to you," he said with anattempt at his old gallantry, "that your image should accompany me toSpain, whither we are sailing now?" And as he spoke the words the shiplurched a little in the wind.
Margaret made no answer, only toyed with the dagger blade, and watchedhim with eyes that glittered more coldly than its steel.
"Kill me, if you will, and have done," he went on in a voice that wasdesperate with love and shame. "So shall I be rid of all this torment."
Then Margaret seemed to awake, for she spoke to him in a new voice--ameasured, frozen voice. "No," she answered, "I will not stain my handseven with your blood, for why should I rob God of His own vengeance? Ifyou attempt to touch me, or even to separate me from this poor womanwhom you have fooled, then I will kill--not you, but myself, and I swearto you that my ghost shall accompany you to Spain, and from Spain downto the hell that awaits you. Listen, Carlos d'Aguilar, Marquis ofMorella, this I know about you, that you believe in God and hear Hisanger. Well, I call down upon you the vengeance of Almighty God. I seeit hang above your head. I say that it shall fall upon you, waking andsleeping, loving and hating, in life and in death to all eternity. Doyour worst, for you shall do it all in vain. Whether I die or whether Ilive, every pang that you cause me to suffer, every misery that you havebrought, or shall bring, upon the head of my betrothed, my father, andthis woman, shall be repaid to you a millionfold in this world and thenext. Now do you still wish that I should accompany you to Spain, orwill you let me go?"
"I cannot," he answered hoarsely; "it is too late."
"So be it, I will accompany you to Spain, I and Betty Dene, and thevengeance of Almighty God that hovers over you. Of this at least besure--I hate you, I despise you, but I fear you not at all. Go." Thend'Aguilar stumbled from that cabin, and the two women heard the doorbolted behind him.