OUT OF THE FOAM. BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE, AUTHOR OF "HUff TO BII*T, M "HAMMER AND RAPIER, 11 "FAIRFAX" 'S*TRRY OF EAULE'S NEST," ETC., ETC CHARLESTON, S. C. THE MARTIN & HOYT COMPANY, MDCCCXCIII. Copyright, 1892, by G. W. Dillingham. UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL III 1 0000878C 55 CONTENTS. PAET I. THE ATTACK ON WESTBROOKB HALL* Chapter. Pawl L — The Beacon ...... 9 IL — The Solitary Woman and her Visitor . 13 III. —The Gypsy 19 IV. — -The Odor of Death 26 V. — - The Rende^ous 83 VL — Sir Murdaugh's Midnight Visitor . . 41 VIL — What Earle saw from his Hiding-place . 48 VIIL — The Wolf-Honnd 53 IX — How Earle Staggered and Fell, Uttering a Cry of Triumph . . ... 57 X. — How the Sailor Earle became one of the "Wolves" 05 (v) 524689 vt CONTENTS. Chapter. Page. XL — EUinor Maverick • . . . 0 72 XII.— "It is Time!" 80 XIII. — The Man in the Coach • . 84 XIV. — • The Night March, and its Object • . 91 XV. — The Viscount Cecil . 98 XVL — The Attack and Fnrsnit . 103 XVIL — Goliath 112 PART II. THE BLOOD-HOUND. Chapter, Pack, L — Hunted . • . . . . .118 IL— The Baronet and the Solitary . . .129 HI. — What One Woman is capable of toward Another 142 IV. — The Sailor and his Ship .... 149 V. — Earle's Design • • • • • 154 VI. — The Witness 158 VIL — The Denunciation • • • • . 162 VIII. — The Blood-Hound . 170 IX.— What Followed • . . • • 177 X. —The Flag with the Lilie* • • . . 181 CONTENTS. vil PART III. BURIED ALIVE. Chapter. P*oa L —Baron Delamere • . • • • 189 II. — The Mutilated Register .... 198 in. — The Revelation ..... 203 IV. — The Discovery , » • 207 V. — The Blow of the Whip ... 213 VI. —The Mad Dog ...... 219 VII. — The Burial of the Wolf .... 224 VIII. — The Chase 223 XL — The Mystery of the Dead Bodies . . 233 X. — The Den of the Wolf .... 339 XL — Kidnapped 243 XIL— Master and Man ..... 247 XIII. — A Tigress \ .251 XIV. — The Intruder . . . . .259 XV. — The Rifled Grave . . , .269 XVI. — The Attack of the Wolves . . .277 XVIL— The News from France .... 283 XVIIL — The Crisis ...... 289 XIX. — The Path to Wentworth Castle . . 293 XX. — What the Gypsy Woman had Seen . . 299 XXI. — The Love of an Old Man for a Girl . . 804 riii CONTENTS. Chapter. FA9H» XXII. — The Bludgeon and the Rope . . .313 XXIII. — The Maverick Vault .... 317 . XXXV.— The Man from Wentworth Castle * . 322 XXV. — The Wedding at Llangollen . e .326 XXVI. — The Vengeance of a Blood-Hound . .332 SXYUi — The Wolves celebrate the Marriage of their Chief • . . . • . .838 PART I. THE ATTACK ON WESTBROOKE HALT* * CHAPTER I. THE BEACON. jST a stormy night of autumn, a boat, ap* proaching from the open sea, drew rap- idly near the coast of Pembrokeshire, the 1 most western of the shires of Wales. The coast was wild, rock-bound, jutting out into gigantic headlands, and lashed by the restless surges of St. George's Channel, break- ing with a hollow murmur on dangerous reefs. At the point which the boat approached, the loftiest of these headlands rose precipitously from the foam; at its *oot grinned the jagged teeth of rocks which had wrecked many a vessel ; and in the cavernous recesses the long bellow of the waves was mingled with the shrill scream of the sea-fowl. (9) 10 THE BEACON. The boat was rowed by four men, and in the storn stood a fifth personage wrapped in a cloak. The stars, glittering from moment to mo- ment, between the masses of black cloud, scarce revealed the dusky figures ; but all at once there shot up from the headland, towering at a dizzy height above, a pillar of flame, which threw its crimson glare far out upon the waves of the channel. Every instant the fiery streamer grew more brilliant. The wind began to blow big guns, and the gigantic torch flickered in the gusts. The boat flew on, — was steered through the threatening reefs by the man in the stern, — and finally shot straight toward the perpendic- ular precipice, where it seemed impossible to land. The steersman, however, evidently knew the locality. All at orce, there appeared a sort of indentation in the precipice, from which a winding pathway was seen to ascend the cliff. The boat touched land, or rather the rock ; the man in the cloak leaped ashore, carrying under his arm a black leather valise; and the boat, without delay, returned toward the open chan* neL THE BEACCtL 11 As it moved away, the man in the clo^k said, in the brief tone of command, — " Eemember my orders, men. fieturn to this spot every night, for ten nights, at this hour. The corvette will stand for the coast of Ireland, but regularly beat up again at nightfall. My business may be finished in two days ; if not in ten, 1 will be dead." And the , speaker rapidly ascended the cliff by the rugged path, which, in twenty minutes, con- ducted him to the plateau on which streamed the beacon light. It was a great bonfire in a fissure of rock, not far from a sort of hut leaning against a mass of granite. On a bench, in front of the hut, sat a woman of about fifty, clad in sad-colored gar- ments, and looking out thoughtfully upon the channel. The face of this woman was pale and emaciated ; her hair was sprinkled with gray ; and from time to time she passed backward and forward through her fingers the beads of a Catholic devotee, attached to her girdle. Poor as her dress and surroundings were, there was something proud and imposing in her appear- ance. In the full glare of the beacon light every detail was plain. The man drew near. At first the crackling 12 THE BEACON. of the fire and the dense smoke made tte woman unaware of his approach. All at once, however^ he stood beside her, and exclaiming " Edmond I " Bhe rose to her feet, " Mother ! " came in response, and a moment afterwards she was locked in the man's embrace. As he extended his arms his cloak fell, and he was seen to be clad in the full uniform of a captain of the French navy. Tliis scene took place nearly a century ago, and England and France were then at war. CHAPTER H. THE SOLITARY WOMAN" AND HER VISITOR, HE young officer and the woman sat down side by side on the bench, in the full light of the beacon fire. The light revealed his face and figure clearly. He was about twenty-five; of slight figure, but evidently active and powerful. The face was bronzed by sun and wind. In the black eyes, keen and piercing, could be read force of character, and a courage as cool as it / was reckless. They talked long and earnestly. The sailor seemed to be narrating his adventures. " And now, mother," he at length said, "since I have finished with myself, let us come to your- self . You still keep up your beacon \ " " Yes, yes, my son ! " was the reply, in French, (13) SOLITARY WOMAN. the language of their conversation. " Alas ! it is little to do in expiation of my sina." "Your sins?" " My great sins. Do not bring them to my memory. That beacon, you know, warns ves- sels approaching the reefs. It has saved many lives." "True, mother — mine among the rest. I dared not look for a pilot, and your beacon saved the corvette last year." " A whole year since your last visit ! " She gazed at him tenderly as she uttered these words. " Could I help that, mother ? England and France are enemies now, and the coast is guarded. A frigate may blow my little cor- vette out of the water at any moment." " But you come — " " On secret service." " Tell me of it." He shook his head. " That is impossible, mother." " And yet I tell you all ! " He looked at her with a smile, and then shrugged his shoulders. " Tou tell me nothing. What is it you have fcvar told me? Stay : what brought you hither f SOLITARY WOMAN. 15 many years since, to this solitary spot ? Why did you leave beautiful France for this rock- bound shore ? Why do you live the life of a recluse, going to the fishing village beneath only once in many months to buy scanty sup- plies, with the poor little gold I brought ? " Her head sank. " True," she said, " I have preserved silence as to all this, but only because I was compelled to do so. Believe me, Edmond, I have good reasons for my silence." "And I too, my mother, for mine, namely, my orders. So we will respect each other's se- cret. Instead of speaking, I wish you to speak. Is a certain Viscount Cecil in this neighborhood now?" " I do not know, my son." " A certain Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke ? " The woman turned her head suddenly. " I believe so. But your business with him, my son ? " The sailor uttered a short laugh. " Merely to have an interview with hirij my mother." The woman shuddered. " What is the matter, mother ?" w Beware of this man, my Ron." 16 SOLITARY WOivIAtf. "Beware of Sir Murdaugh Westfcrook3? r ' " He is a terrible person, they say; bloody and cruel ; and strange stories are told of him." "Ah! what stories?" " Mysterious things are said to take place at Westbrooke Hall. People speak of singular noises heard there, — of groans ; of great hounds prowling around ready to tear down intruders. More still, — it is said that a singular odor fills the house." " A singular odor ? " " The smell of corpses." And the woman crossed herself. The young sailor repeated his short laugh. "That is mysterious, and curious, and I will go and see for myself. Groans — hounds — noises — the smell of corpses! That is queer, and excites curiosity. But we have conversed sufficiently of the excellent baronet. Besides, I am in haste, my mother — I must leave you. First, however, here is some gold." And he drew a heavily filled bag from hia valise, and placed it in the lap of the recluse. " Do not refuse it," he added ; " it is honestly earned ; and money is a friend, mother — one of the best in the world, and we should not repulse friends. Now I must hurry. I have some SOLITARY WOMAN, 17 distance to travel to-night, and must change my costume," "With these words the sailor raised the valise, and entered the door of the hut, leaving the solitary woman still seated on her bench, in the light of the beacon fire. This light streamed through the small win- dow, and revealed a rush-clad floor, one hard wooden chair, a low narrow bed, with a poor but neat covering, and several exquisite engrav- ings of scenes in the lives of the saints. In ten minutes the sailor reappeared. He was scarce recognizable. His uniform had been replaced by a handsome dark travelling suit of English fashion ; in one hand he carried a small travelling satchel, and in the other what appeared to be a bundle of rods about three feet in length, wrapped in shining oil-cloth. "You behold, my mother, the gentleman tourist, Mr. Delamere," he said, laughing. "Let it be pardoned the captain, Edmond Earle, Bailor, if he adopts the name of Delamere — de la mer — as that to which he is best entitled after his own." "And you will leave me, my son, so soon after gladdening my poor old eyes with your coming?" 2 13 SOLITARY WOMAN. " I must, mother; but do not fear: I will soon return." "But the danger." "Danger! "Well, we are old acquaintance^ this same danger and myself. We have shaken hands often, and I am not afraid of him." " If they discover you — " "They will arrest and hang me as a spy? Yes: but they will not probably discover me. I speak English like a native ; and before they hang me, the town yonder will be blown to atoms by my cannon." The recluse clasped her hands. " Oh, my son! do not go." lie laughed grimly. "Be at rest, my mother: there is no danger; and you will not behold that line spectacle from your headland, — the coast of this good Pem- brokshire raked by the guns of my corvette. See ! yonder is her light on the horizon. She is standing out to sea. You do not see it? I am a sailor, and see far. And now, farewell, my mother. I will revisit you to-morrow r ght, I think. Embrace me." And embracing the woman, the sailor set out rapidly by a path which led down the mountain Bide toward the interior. CIIAPTER IIL THE GYPSY. G vf \ MILE southward from the headland which we have described, lay the fish* (ojx ing village of Oldport, an assemblage of huts, many of them consisting of the overturned hulls of wrecked vessels, in which lurked rather than lived openly a wild and law- less class of men, half fishermen, half smugglers, popularly known throughout the region as " The Wolves." In front of a building of somewhat greater pretensions hung a rude sign depicting a cat with a bell around her neck. This was the inn of the Cat and Bell^ and on the day after the scenes just described, a rickety old road-wagon, answering in place of a stage-coach, deposited at the inn the disguised French officer who had entered the vehicle at a town some miles distant <19) 20 THE GYPSY. Announcing himself as Mr.Delamere, tourist and amateur trout-fisherman, he dined; stated that he expected to remain some days; and taking from the oil-cloth case a jointed fishing- rod, fitted it together, and strolled through the village. From the huts of the " "Wolves," curious and threatening eyes were bent upon him, shining under shaggy masses of hair. The wild animals seemed to scent a popinjay in the well-clad amateur of their own trade. But Earle did not see the scornful glances, or hear the threatening murmurs. He pro- ceeded toward a body of wood, from which rose in the distance a great mansion of dark- colored stone ; gained the wood, through which a stream ran, and rapidly following a path, muttered, — "This leads to Westbrooke Hall— which is my object, since the worthy Viscount Cecil is not in the vicinity. I must reconnoitre. This is the path, I think — " Suddenly he stopped. He had come upon a group of gypsies ; an old crone in a red cloak bending over a blaze, two rougish-looking girls, and a young man, black-eyed, black-haired, lithe of figure, redlining at the moment between THE GYrSY. 21 the girls, and picking his white teeth with a straw. He was a handsome young vagabond, and his ragged clothes did not conceal a grace- ful and vigorous figure. No sooner had Earle made his appearance, than one of the girls rose and hastened to him. "Shall I tell your fortune, handsome stranger ? " she said. Earle looked intently at the girl, shook his head, and replied in a strange tongue which seemed to produce an electric effect on the group. The girls started, the old crone turned her head, and the young man, rising to his feet, exclaimed, — "How! you speak the Eommanye Eye! Tou are a brother ? " Earle replied in the same language, and the young man looked at him with astonishment. "You speak the pure unmixed Eommanye Eye! Where did you learn it, brother, and who are you ? " " 1 learned it in Portugal, brother," responded Earle, " and am one of the tribe by adoption. Who I am, beyond that, is not important." The gypsy came up close to him. " Tes, it is important," he whispered* *Whyi» 22 THE GYPSY. " Because, if you are really a brother of the Roinmanye Rye, — and you needs must be, since you speak our tongue, — I have something on hand in which you can help me, and yourself too." " What is it ? and how will it benefit me ? " " There will be ten thousand guineas to divide." Earle looked sidewise at his companion. " A robbery ? " he said, coolly. The gypsy looked much shocked. " Nothing of the sort, brother : the affair is a Btrange one ; but no robbery." Earle found his curiosity much excited by this preamble, and said, — " Well, tell me about it. I may be able to assist you." The gypsy looked toward his companions, and whispered, " Not here or now." " When and where, then ? " "Do you see that spot yonder, where the road skirts the dark pool, under the big rock, covered with trailing vines, hanging down in the water \ " "Yes." "Meet mo there at midnight to-night I THE GYPSY. 23 swear, on the faith of the Kommanye .Rye, that no harm shall come to you ! 55 Earle laughed. " I am not afraid/' he said, " and I know that oath is sacred. I only demur to the time and place. I am at Oldport, and that is miles dis- tant. Midnight is the hour to sleep ; why not earlier and in a less secluded spot ? " " Because what I tell you must be told to you alone ; and that spot is the place to tell it." " Why % " " You will discover." Earle looked keenly at his interlocutor. He was evidently in earnest. " You want my help ? " said Earle. " I must have help. None of the brothers of the Kommanye Eye are at hand. You are a stranger, but a brother. I will trust you. What do you say ? " " I say I will be yonder, near the pool, at midnight," was the reply. And they returned to the group who had been eyeing them with ill-dissembled curi- osity. "This is a brother," he said to the gypsy girls. " There is no mistake about it." The black-eyed houries showed their appreci* 24 THE GYPSY. ation of the visitor, thereupon, by coming nj to him, locking their arms, browned by the 6un, around his neck, and kissing him with ardor. The sailor laughed, and did not decline the ruddy lips. lie then made a confidential ges- ture to the young gypsy, declined the offered Bupper, and went on, intent, it seemed, on making the circuit of the Westbrooke Park, until he reached the gateway. This he soon found, — a huge arch, with carved stone abutments, — and, dragging open the ponderous affair, he entered the grounds. They had been splendid, but were now return- ing to wilerdness. Hares ran across the road in front of the pedestrian, a deer disappeared in a tangled thicket, and no human being was Been, to indicate that the spot was inhabited. All at once, Earle came in sight of a great building of age-embrowned stone, apparently dug from the neighboring quarries, with lofty gables, ivy-covered, and long rows of windows, close-shut, and giving no indication that the house was occupied by the living, whatever an- tics the dead might cut up, at midnight, in ita suites of deserted chambers. The great front door was as closely secured, and a huge knocks THE GYPSY. 25 in bronze scowled fiercely through cobwebs. In the circle in front o£ the portico, whose tes- eelated floor was giving way, was a stone urn, slowly crumbling. Westbrooke Hall was not a cheerful spec- tacle. Earle was looking at it, leaning, as he did so, against a tree, when a rough voice near him i aid, in a threatening tone, — " Well, what is your business here I V CHAPTER IV. THE ODOE OF DEATH. ARLE turned quickly. Standing near him was a man of low stature, but herculean limbs, with a shaggy beard, bloodshot eyes, over which the brows were bent in a dark scowl, and holding in his hand, finger on trigger, a heavy carbine. Beside him stood two large wolf-hounds, ready to spring. The man with this ferocious body-guard seemed reluctant to await Earle's reply before firing upon him. The sailor exhibited little surprise and no fear. "My business here?" he said. "Who are you that ask that ? The gamekeeper ? " "Yes — whoareyow? I am told that su*- (26) THE ODOR OF DEATH. 27 picicms characters are prowling about. Your name and business here, or I carry you befora Sir Murdaugh ! " Earle reflected for a moment, muttering, — " That would not be so bad." The gamekeeper cocked his gun, scowling ferociously. "Do you intend to answer me ? " j "No." 1 "Then come along before his honor. lie will find out who is prowling around his house." Earle coolly nodded, and walked with the man toward the mansion. Reaching the front door, his companion drew from his pocket a huge key, opened the ponderous door, which grated on its hinges, and ushered Earle into a funereal apartment, hung round with old por traits, after which he disappeared. The furniture was ancient and mouldy ; and to add to this depressing influence, Earle's at tention was speedily attracted by a peculiarly acrid, offensive, and even sickening odor, which he could compare to nothing but that issuing from some vault or charnel-house. In spite of his courage and buoyancy of tem- perament, he shuddered. This funereal man- 28 THE ODOR OF DEATH. sion, full of shadows and mystery, affected un« pleasantly even the rough sailor. The dim eyes of the portraits followed him, the brows scowled, the terrible odor, which he perceived now, came to perfect the depressing and mel- ancholy influence of the place. " Really, I have blundered into a vault," he muttered. " Some corpse is going to glide in at that door there, and clutch me by the hair!" Suddenly a harsh and metallic voice, almost beside him said, — "Tour business here? How did you gain entrance ? " Earle turned and saw before him a strange figure. In the new-comer's appearance there • was something at once grotesque and terrible, lie was a man of about sixty ; of great height : gaunt, bony, with glittering eyes, deeply sunken under heavy brows, and a nose resembling the beak of a hawk. From the corners of a large and sensual mouth, protruded two tusks, rather than teeth. The result of this, was a perma- nent and ghastly sneer, which put the finishing touch to a physiognomy which excited «it once fear and disgust — the sentiment of the ridicu- lous and the terrible. THE ODOR OF DEATH, 29 He was clad in an old faded dressing-gown, the sleeves of which were rolled up, and had evidently not expected a visitor. " Your business here ? " he repeated, in hia cold, forbidding voice, the muddy gray eyea rolling in their cavernous sockets. Earle gazed at him coolly, and replied, — " Your gamekeeper conducted me hither. I Bay your gamekeeper, as I presume you are Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke." "lam." As he spoke, the shaggy-headed Hercules entered. His master turned to him with a scowl. " I ordered no one to be admitted here with- out my knowledge — why have you disobeyed me % " he said. " It was long ago — I was wrong Sir Mur* dangh," stammered the man. "In future obey me," grated the metallia voice ; " who is this — gentleman ? " The word seemed forced reluctantly from him. " I am a tourist," said Earle, " travelling on ray own affairs. I came to look at Westbrooke Park, and have been gratified with a view, also, of the interior of your residence, sir, — in th« so THE ODOR OF DEATH character of a vagrant brought up before your honor." And Earle looked around him coolly. A door led from the apartment toward the ser- vants quarters' — through folding doors, leading to a second receiving room, a window was seen open in rear, and through this window, the foliage of the park. " Good ! " muttered the sailor ; " that is all I wanted to know." lie rose and bowed. " If I am not to be committed as a vagabond, 1 will now take my leave, sir," he said. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, bowed stiffly. " Before I take my departure, however, may 1 ask one question, sir ? " said the sailor. " Ask it," " It may appear intrusive." " Ask it ! " grated the voice. "Since you so politely permit me, I will venture to ask," said the sailor, coolly, " what the very peculiar odor I perceive here is due to, Sir Murdaugh." The baronet drew back and seemed to freeze. Only his eyes burned in their bloodshot recesses. " Tour question is offensive ! " he growled THE ODOR OF DEATH. 31 u Then it resembles the si_iell I perceive." And Earl snuffed up the air with manifest disgust. " I compliment you upon the power of your imagination ! " sneered the baronet. " My nose is the organ affected, and I should say that you have a corpse for a visitor at present, sir," said Earle. " But I grow really intrusive now, and will take my leave. Good- evening. Thanks for the hospitalities of West- brooke Ilall. We shall probably meet again." And he bowed and left the apartment. A& he did so the baronet called, — "Wilde!" The shaggy gamekeeper was at the door, and quickly made his appearance. " Follow that man and find out where he goes, and who he is — I do not like him. There is something in his face and voice that warns me to beware of him. Who is he ? You do not know ? Why do you not know ? What do I employ you ior? Go, I say, and track him, and bring me word all about him!" The man, sullen but cowed, went out, and the baronet looked toward the door through which Earle had disappeared. 82 THE ODOR OF DEATH. " If that man comes here again With hia talk about odors and corpses, 5 ' he muttered in Lis harsh voice, while the yellow tusks pro- truded threateningly. " I will make a corpse ot him!" CHAPTER V. THE RENDEZVOUS. was nearly midnight: the moon had risen about half an hour before, and its pallid light revealed every feature of the lonely and lugubrious locality fixed upon by the gypsy for his rendezvous with Earle. Nothing more gloomy and forbidding than the spot in question could be imagined. The road, or rather bridle-path, indicated by the gypsy, ran along the steep banks of the stream we have spoken of, and near a dark and tmllen-looking pool above which rose a huge rock, festooned with spectral-looking vines, ana covered nearly with dense foliage. The stream, merrily brawling on elsewhere, here dragged its black and sombre current slowly along, and deposited its froth and scum. Above 8 (33) THE RENDEZVOUS. the pool a dead bough, gnarled and abrupt resembled the gaunt arm of some fiend stretched out — beneath, on the sullen water, the shadows assumed ghostly and threatening outlines. It was a spot to commit a murder, not to hold a midnight interview in, save with the hand upon some weapon. The very hooting of a great-horned owl, buried in the leaves, sounded unearthly. The spot seemed given up to gloom and the recollection, by the very inanimate objects, of some terrible tragedy. Precisely at midnight, a figure wrapped in a cloak approached the great gnarled tree near the rock hanging over the pool, and the moonlight clearly revealed the form of Earle. " Well, I am here," he muttered ; " where, 1 wonder, is my friend of the black eyes?" "Here!" came from the shadow of the rock. And the gypsy advanced into the moonlight. Earle advanced in his turn. Under his cloak his hand grasped the hilt of his poniard. They faced each other directly opposite the pool ; and the dark eyes of the gypsy, full of wary cunning, were fixed upon the calm face of Earle. THE RENDEZVOUS. 35 "I Bee you are a brave man, brother," ho said. , " II jw have I proved that ? " said Earle. "By coming here at an hour like this, alone." " That is no proof o£ my courage. You are but one man — I am another." The gypsy laughed. " And a cool one. Others might have refused this meeting. This spot has a black reputation in the neighborhood." "Why?" u A man was tied to that tree, and lashed nearly to death." "Indeed!" " And six feet from it, another was murdered, and his body dragged to the pool yonder, where it was thrown in, with weights to hold it down." " How do you know that ? " "I saw it." " You saw the murder ? " The gypsy nodded. " Why did you not denounce the murderer I But doubtless you did so." The gypsy shook his head. a I was too intelligent for that" 86 THE RENLEZVOUS. "Too intelligent ?" "Yes." " Explain.' The gypsy laughed again. It was a lew, sub tie sound, like the hiss of a serpent. "Why should I have informed on the mur derer?" he said. "No: I was too intelligent for that I A man is murdered ; his body concealed in that black-looking pool ; no one knows of the murder save the man or men who committed it, and a wandering vagabond of a gypsy who chanced to be in the copse yonder, and wit- nessed all, — and you ask now why the vaga- bond did not go to a magistrate and tell all; why he did not say, 'I saw another commit this murder. 5 No — I am acquainted with these good English justices of the peace. They demand a murderer where murder has been done — what more natural than the arrest of the vagabond?" Earle nodded* "You are right. And you held your tongue ? " "Yes." "Knowing all?" "Yes." j " Tell me what happened. There ib notM^ THE RENDEZVOUS. 37 like understanding all the particulars of a given event." " The story is short. I will conceal nothing — for you are a brother of the Eommanye Eye, arid the oath of the brotherhood seals the lips — you know that." « Yes." "What happened was this : There was a man who had an enemy. That enemy met the man one day at this spot, seized him with the aid of a servant, bound him to that tree there, and lashed him as men lash a hound. I do not know why — enough that he lashed him till his flesh was bloody. Then the two went away and left him tied ; when some passei*-bj found him he was nearly dead." " That is a strange story," said Earle ; " and this led to the murder % " "Yes. The man who had been lashed got well, and waited. One day he was riding along this road just at dark with a mounted attendant. lie met his enemy — the one who had treated him as I have described. I was yonder in that thicket, as I told you. The enemies met face to face, and he who had been lashed smiled sweetly, held out his hand, and said, ' I forgive you; my punishment was 28 THE RENDEZVOOJ. just.' At these words, the other held out hii hand in turn. A minute afterwards he fell from his horse with a deep groan — the man whom he had lashed had stabbed him to the heart." " Good ! " said Earle ; " there is a regular murder." " Yes. The man did not die at once, so his enemy and the attendant dismounted and beat out his brains. They then fastened rocks, with their stirrup leathers, to the feet of the corpse, and dragged it to the pool yonder, where they threw it in, and it sunk to the bottom." Earle listened with attention. " And you saw all this ? " "Yes." "And did not inform on the murderer? " "No." " Then the murder remained unsuspected ? " " On the contrary, it was discovered at once." " How was that ? — you interest me." " The murdered man had been followed by a very fine blood-hound, a pet dog with him. When he was stabbed, the dog leaped at the throat of the murderer." "Brave dog! — and they did not kill trim too?" THE RENDEZVOUS. 39 tt No : he escaped, and led the way afterwards to the spot where his master had been mur- dered. The marks of a struggle were found — the blood-stains on the grass over which the body had been dragged, and at last the body itself, in the pool where it had been sunk." Earle reflected for some moments and then Baid, — • " That is a singular history you relate, brother, and yet your voice tells me that it is true. Now, what is your object ? To bring the murderer to justice % " The gypsy smiled. "I should like to do so if I could, brother*, but I cannot, being a vagabond; and then, I cannot afford it." "Afford it?" " The secret is worth much money. Listen ; I go— that is, you and I go — to the man who committed that murder and say, " Your life is in my hand ; you killed a man ; pay me ten thousand guineas as the price cf my secresy ? " That is plain, is it not % " Earle nodded coolly. " Then we will divide the sum he pays us," Baid the gypsy. 40 THE RENDEZVOUS. "That would be liberal," returned Earle. " You. consent ? " " That depends. We have used no names ; let as come tc^that. Who was the murdered man ? " " Giles Maverick, a prominent gentleman of Pembrokeshire." - " The murderer?" " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke." CHAPTER VI. SIR MUEDAUGH S MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 'E had scarcely uttered the words, when a low growl in the copse near them was suddenly heard ; and an instant after- wards the gypsy sprung in the direction of the sound, which resembled the noise of rapidly retreating footsteps. The gypsy followed with long leaps, like a wild-cat in pursuit of his prey ; but in spite of all, the sounds became more and more indistinct, and suddenly ceased. The concealed personage had escaped. Earlo had remained motionless, leaning against the gnarled tree. In ten minutes the gypsy returned to ti e spot, breathing heavily from his exertion. " We have been tracked," he said, hastily. (41) 42 THS MIDNIGHT VISITOR. Earle nodded. " I thought so," he said. " You thought so ? " " Yes ; that is to say, I feared as much." "Why?" " I was at Westbrooke Hall late this evening, and had a conversation with Sir Murdaugh West- brooke. As I went out, I heard him summon a confidential servant, or gamekeeper, whose name is Wilde. The man followed me, hung around the tavern at the village for an hour, disappeared, I thought ; but now I find that he is a better hand at woodcraft than I am, a mere sailor, lie has tracked me, and overheard all." The gypsy knit his brow. " You take it coolly, brother." " There is no reason why I should take It otherwise." " He w r ill inform Sir Murdaugh." "Of what?" « Of all he has heard." " He has heard nothing." " Nothing!" "We have been talking in the Rommanyo Bye," said Earle. The gypsy looked at him with admiration. " Th^t is true, brother," he said ; " and you THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 43 have a long head on your shoulders. Now what is to be done ? - J Earle reflected for an instant. " The affair looks unpromising," le said ; "but something may, perhaps, take place which will guide you in your business. The night is clear, we have some hours before us : why not pay a visit to the park of Westbrooke Hall, and try to discover, for one thing, whether I am mis- taken in thinking that the man Wilde has tracked me ? If I am right, he will return to make his report. Through a window chink we may overhear something ; from a tree, w T hich a good sailor like myself can easily climb, we may see something. Who knows ? Let us try, at least." And, followed by the gypsy, who evidently regarded him with admiration, Earle set out rapidly in the direction of Westbrooke Hall. In half an hour, they w r ere near the boundaries of the park, which was encircled by a high wall. As they drew nearer, they all at once discov- ered a light vehicle, to which a single horse was attached, standing in the shadow of the wall, at a point where the stones had partially fallen, and left a gap. Through this gap two men were seen lifting 5 44 THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. a third wrapped in a cloak, and appai2ntly in the last stages of intoxication. "Stand up, my hearty!" said one of the men, with a low laugh ; " this way you have of going and getting yourself as drunk as a beast is not according to good morals, old fellow! There ! use your legs and come on. Sir Mur- daugh is waiting for you." " Be quiet, and hush your gab, mate," said the other ; " who know r s who may be prowling about?" " After midnight?" " Yes. There are the gypsy people." "Well, they do hate Sir Murdaugh." "There, again. I have often warned you about calling names; stop it! Bear a hand there." " You are right, mate. Come on, aged ine- briate ! " And the two men half dragged, half carried the third along a path through the shiubbery, toward the hall. Earle and the gypsy followed, walking noise- lessly and keeping in the shadow. As they approached the hall, a low growl from a kennel, where a hound seemed to be chained, greeted them, and a moment afterward* the THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 45 door of the hall opened slightly, and revealed the figure of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, clad in his long dressing-gown, and holding a light in his hand. Eaile and the gypsy had reached the thicket near which the former had encountered the gamekeeper. In this they ensconsed them- selves, and could see everything. Sir Murdaugh shot a keen glance in the direc- tion of the three figures. " Make haste ! " he said, impatiently. " Come on, old gentleman! " muttered one of the men to the one between them. The figure staggered, and would have fallen had not the two men held it up by main force. As it staggered, the hat fell off, the cloak dropped to the ground ; and the light revealed all. The figure was clad in a shroud, and the jaw h^d fallen. It was a corpse. CHAPTER VIL WHAT EARLE SAW FROM HIS HIDING-PLACE. ARLE laid his hand upon the arm of his companion. On the firm lips of the young sailor the moonlight revealed a Sarcastic smile. ""Look ! " he whispered ; " there is the sort of goods in which our friend deals." " Yes," said the gypsy, whose dark eyes were fixed upon the face of the corpse. " Is it another murder?" "No." "What?" "I will tell you when there is less danger of being overheard." In fact, the two men carrying the corpse had paused to lisftn. Something seemed to excite their suspicion. "What is tho matter?" came in low, haisb (46) WHAT EARLE SAW. 47 tones from tho lips of Sir Murdangh West- brooke. "I thought I heard a noise, sir," said one of the men. "A noise?" "In the thicket there." And releasing the arm of the corpse, the speaker took two steps toward the spot where Earle and the gypsy were concealed. Earle laid hi3 hand upon his poniard. The hand of the gypsy in like manner stole be- neath his ragged jacket and grasped some- thing — a knife, probably. There was no pos- sibility of retreating. It was necessary, they felt, to await the attack and defend them selves. But the danger quickly passed. " Nonsense ! " came in same low, harsh tones from the baronet ; " all fancy ! There is no one there. It is one in the morning. Bring in that ! " And with his long, lean finger he pointed to the corpse. The man returned, muttering something, and again assisted his companion in dragging — for they rather dragged than carried — the body into tho mansion. The lugubrious group 48 WHAT EARLE SAW. with their funereal burden passed through the great doorway — it closed — save the glimmer through one of the windows, there w r as now no sign of life throughout the establishment. " Well," said Earle, " we have stumbled upon Bomething like an adventure. We did well in coming to visit the park. There is nothing like knowing the private affairs of a man you are to have dealings with 1 " " Hist 1 " returned the gypsy suddenly. I heard a noise ! " "A noise? — Where?" " In the wood yonder, behind the house." Both listened. All at once footsteps became audible — the firm tread of a man, walking on the thick turf, which gave forth a muffled and 4ull response. " lie has arrived ! " whispered Earle. "Who?" " The man who tracked me and overheard ffhat was said yonder — Wilde ? " " He will discover us ! " " It is probable, as he has one of the hounds jrith him." "Where is the dog?" As he spoke, Wilde appeared in the moon- light, emerging from the shadow of the wood WHAT EARLE SAW. 49 Beside him ran the great wolf-hound, nosing and uttering suppressed growls. " What is the matter ? 55 the man was heard to say in a low voice; "there is no one here, Wolf." The dog continued his quest, uneasy, evi- dently, and more suspicious than his master. "Come here," said Wilde; "you arc losing your time. The first thing is to see Sir Mur- daugh. Then we will come out and go the rounds, Yf olf With these words he called the dog to him, and they disappeared behind the mansion. " Now is the time to get off," whispered the gypsy- "No: now is the time to discover more," returned Earle, coolly. " Go deeper into the thicket ; no dog can find you there, if you lie down and keep quiet. I am going to the main- top to look out." And with a short laugh, which revealed hia wliite teeth, the young sailor emerged from covert, crossed the moonlit expanse in front of the house, and, climbing with the agility of a cat, an enormous oak whose foliage brushed the walls of the house, concealed himself among the leaves. 4 50 WHAT EARLE SAW. From the lofty perch which he had thus reached; and where he sustained himself by a firm grasp upon one of the lesser boughs, th* young man could see into the establishment, one of whose window-shutters was open. The apartment into which he looked was not that which had witnessed the interview between himself and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. It was a much smaller room on the left, plainly fur- nished. In the centre was a great arm-chair. Seated bolt upright in this chair, with grinning teeth, was the corpse. Sir Murdaugh was standing erect, candle in hand. In his long dressing-gown, dark and draping his person from head to foot, he re- sembled a Roman augur, about to perform some mysterious rite. His face was pallid, and as he gazed at the body, the grin habitual with him distorted his features, revealing clearly the sharp tusks at the corners of hi3 mouth. His sombre glance seemed to gloat on the lugubrious object. Earle shuddered almost. The effect produced by the expres- sion of the pale face was that of the presence of one of the deadly cobras which the sailor had seen in the tropics — a mixture of fear and loathing. WHAT EARLE SAW. 51 The two men had retreated, hat in hand, to the door, and waited. As Earle, from his hiding-place in the oak, took in the details of this singular tableau, the door opened and Wilde entered, followed by hi* wolf-hound. CHAPTER VIII. THE "WOLF-HOUND. HE baronet and the shaggy Hercules exchanged rapid glances. "Wilde made a slight movement of the head in the direction of the two men, and, as though comprehending at once the meaning of this sign, Sir Murdangh Westbrooke pointed to the door, said something to the men, and they disappeared. Y/ilde then rapidly approached his master His face was dark and scowling. He spoke rapidly, with animated gestures, pointing, as he did so, in the direction of the pool near the boundary of the park. As he spoke, Sir Murdaugh "Westbrooke's face grew as black as night. His bushy brows were knit over his snake-like eyes, and he lis« tened with unconcealed emotion. THE WOLF-HOUND. 53 The sailor, in his oak, uttered a low laugh. " The worthy pair are discussing things," he said. "The man is telling his master of the mysterious interview between the mysterious Btranger and the gypsy, at the pool. What will result ? Let us look on, since it is impossible to listen." The interview continued for about half an hour. Then the baronet was seen to point through the window toward the front of the house. The sailor saw that gesture, and his marvel* lous acumen told him that Sir Murdaugh West* brooke was informing Wilde of the supposed noise heard by the men when bringing in the dead body. The Hercules turned quickly toward the door. As he did so, he made a sign to the wolf-hound, and the animal, as though under standing perfectly, disappeared at a bound. A moment afterwards, Earle's attention was attracted by a low and continuous growling beneath the oak. He locked down and saw the dog coursing to and fro, and nosing the earth. By a strange instinct, the wolf-hound paid no attention to the traces left by the men and their 54 THE WOLF-HOUND. burden. Something seemed to draw him irro* ejstibly toward the oak, in which Earle was con- cealed. Every circuit which lie made brought him nearer ; at last he reached the tree. His nose rested for a moment upon the trunk, and he snuffed at it in silence. Then his head rose, his dark eye glittered in the moonlight. IIo caught sight of Earle, half -lost in the foliage, and uttered a long, continuous, and furious bay. As the deep and prolonged alarm issued from the hound's lips, Earle felt that he was lost. There was no possibility of remaining midiscovered : the hound had descried him ; the hoarse bay could not be mistaken. It was the sound uttered by animals who have dis- covered their prey, and are furious to leap upon it, and tear it limb from limb. Earle felt that Wilde and the baronet would understand all in a moment, and throwing a rapid glance through the window, he saw that his fears were well founded No sooner had the hoarse cry of the hound reached his ear, than the man Wilde started and turned toward the door. Sir Murdangh, who had gone toward the body, turned as quickly. THE WOLF-HOUND. 55 Wilde pointed in the direction of the sound, uttered some hasty words, and, drawing a hunt- ing knife from his girdle, rushed from the room. Earle saw that all was lost, unless he acted with decision. lie did not hesitate. The in- mates of Westbrooke Hall were persons, evi- dently, who did not fear bloodshed, and were apt to act without ceremony. His life would in all probability pay the forfeit of his daring in- vasion of the precincts, and without a moment's hesitation Earle slid down the tree, passed from bough to bough, let his body fall from the low- est limb, and sprung upon the hound, who in turn darted at his enemy's throat. Earle felt the hot breath of the animal on his face, and the sharp teeth touched his throat. The struggle was desperate, but did not con- tinue long. Before the teeth of the hound could close upon the throat of Ear]e, he drew his poniard, plunged it into the animal's body behind the shoulder, and hurling the dog from him, rushed into the thicket just as Wilde reached the spot, attracted by the last cry of the dying w r olf -hound. The Hercules uttered a growl so savage that it resembled that of a tiger. Drawing his knife, 56 THE WOLF-HOUND. he hastened in the direction of a rustling which he heard in the thicket. Head down, like a mad bull, he burst through every obstacle, breathing heavily, uttering curses, his eyes glar- ing with rage. But the noise receded — ceased. Coming to an open space, he saw through a vista two shad- ows clear the park wall and vanish. Earle and the gypsy had effected their escape, •nd were lost in the great Westbrooke woods. CHAPTER IX HOW EARLE STAGGERED AND FELL, UTTERING A CRY OF TRIUMPH. MORNING full of brilliant sunshine ^fA\x succee( ier mal. Two hours afterwards, Earle in his turn mounted and directed his way toward the vil- lage. His head was turning, almost. A passionate scene had occurred between himself and the fair Ellinor on the portico. She had magnetized him, drawn him on, said " Come ! " with her eyes, and when he poured out his passion, quietly laughed at him. Ten minutes afterwards, he was riding away ; as he went he muttered to himself, — " So that folly ends, and the end is fortunate, perhaps. Earle the sailor is not to cast anchor yet — so much the better ; the wind is fair, and there is fighting and sailing to do. Fighting ? Come ! I think there was some question of that once ! I've been crazy, but am sane now; I was dreaming, but am awake ! To work, laggard ! and obey your orders. You came hither under orders, and you are shirking your duty. Tour men await you nightly , yonder ; act this night, and leave the accursed land where you've fallen into a woman's toils ! Come ! to work ! Ah ! Sir Murdaugh West brooke, my dear assassin and "IT IS TIME!" 83 rival, beware! This very night I will lay a heavy hand upon you ! " ITe was passing, as he thus muttered, through a dark hollow in the hills. " It is time, brother ! " said a voice, " or ho will lay his hand on you ! " And the speaker advanced from the shadow of a huge hemlock, beneath which he had been concealed. It was the gypsy. CEAPTEE XIII. THE MAN IN THE COACH. ABLE, startled for an instant in spite of himself, by tlie apparition in his path, quickly regained his coolness, and drew rein to converse with his companion. " You say — ? " said Earle. "That Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke is plotting to destroy you," said the gypsy. "I know it from hearing the thing with my ears, brother." " Tell me all about it." And dismounting, Earle threw his bridle over his arm, and walked on beside the gypsy. 5 "Well, I will do so, brother. Night is the time to talk ; and I think the stars yonder are friendly to the brethren of the Eommanye Eye. Here is the way I discovered all. I had been to make a visit to Westbrooke Hall — " (84) THE MAN IN THE COACH. 85 " Not to converse with the baronet on that husiness ? " interrupted Earl. The gypsy smiled in a manner which dis- played a double row of teeth. " No, brother. To tell you the truth, I don't like the thought of going there on that errand. Some accident might happen to me ; I might be set up in a chair, opposite that other grin- ning ' old gentleman,' in the grave-clothes ! " " I understand," said Earle. " I had other business, and I succeeded in it, brother. I had made a little plot against the other wolf-hound. Some day, I said, I may have to visit Westbrooke Park. Then the hound will prove an ugly customer, and give the alarm. Better act in time, and pay my re- spects to his honor, the wolf-hound ! " " I understand, 2 ' repeated Earle. " So I went to see this good watch-dog in his kennel," continued the gypsy ; " and to make my visit more acceptable, carried with me a piece of fresh meat. This I threw to our friend, the hound, just as he sprung out to give the alarm. He gobbled it up instead of barking. I hid in the bushes near, and in about fifteen rainutea the dog seemed to grow sick. Then he bit the ground and tugged at his chain, and e: ded by 55 THE MAN IN THE COACH. rolling on his back, beating the air with Ida paws, and then lying quiet." " Poisoned % " " Yes, brother. lie is not apt to trouble us further. I saw that he was done for and has- tened to retreat from the park. When I reach- ed the great woods, I thought I was safe ; but as I w T as gliding through a thicket skirting the main road, I thought 1 heard footsteps in the undergrowth, and lay down listening. The steps came nearer. From my covert I saw a man, with a gun on his shoulder, pass within twenty feet of me, and as he approached the road I could hear the hoof-strokes of a horse." "The baronet?" " Yes. lie was coming back, it seemed, from a visit, as I soon found that he was in full dress. The man who was his gamekeeper, Wilde, had chanced to be going his rounds and met him. The baronet stopped, and I could see, through an opening, by the starlight, that his face was pale and full of anger at some- thing." Earle nodded. "I can explain that. Well, you saw,— doubtless you also heard." THE MAN IN THE COACH. " Yes, brother, I was born with a great hank- ering after finding out everything. I crawled along, without making a noise, until I was within a few yards of these good people, and hiding in a clump of bush, listened. I hud torn my rags to worse rags, but what I heard was worth the expense. I need not tell you what they said; it amounted to this — that you were to be waylaid and i got rid of.' That was the baronet's phrase. As to me, I was to be treated in the same way. You see he knows %oe Jenow his secret, and as long as we are alive he is not safe. He is in a violent rage with you at something, besides, which occurred to- night, it seems ; and, hearing the name, ' Maverick House,' where, it appears, you were on a visit, I thought I'd warn you in time, brother." "You did well, — forewarned, forearmed," Baid Eaiie. " W as anything more said between the worthies?" "They were interrupted." " By whom?" " As they were talking in low tones, on the side of the road, within a few feet of me, a fine coach, drawn by four horses, came along, going toward the Hall, and, as it passed, a gentleman 88 THE MAN IN THE COACH put his head out of the window, an said, i Ii not that Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke V — < Yes,' the baronet replied. — 6 1 am the Yiscount Cecil, 5 said the man in the coach. And the baronet bowed, came up, talked for some min- utes, and at last got into the coach, which rolled away toward the Hall, Wilde having taken his masters horse. Then I set off to find you ; the grass has not grown under my feet. What will you do, brother ? " But Earle did not reply. A sudden glow had come to his countenance. " Are you sure you heard aright ? " he ex- claimed. "The man in the coach gave his name as Yiscount Cecil ? " "I heard the name distinctly, brother. It ..eems to interest you." " It does, I swear to you ! And you heard nothing more ? 55 "Only something about his having come down to his estates, from Parliament, to see the baronet on business, or something of the sort." " Good ! ' Parliament, 5 — that is enough ! ' Viscount Cecil, 5 — there can be no doubt. It is he ! 55 £ What do you say, brother ? 55 777£ MAN IN THE COACH. 89 "Nothing. All, the man in the coach —the man in the coach ! That decides me. I might have been weak — this makes me resolite!" And turning to the gypsy, he added, — " I am about to leave this country, brother. Do not count on my co-operation with you, and look out for yourself. One thing only I can promise you : I think that I will rid you of your enemy, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. All is ready ! To-night decides ! Farewell, brother ! May the stars guide you ! " lie uttered the last words in the gypsy tongue, and made a salute peculiar to the fra- ternity. Then, putting spurs to his horse, he disap- peared at full gallop in the darkness. The gypsy gazed after him with an ex- pression of wonder, and then began running in the same direction ; that is, toward Oldport- The village was not, however, Eaiie's destina- tion now. Once out of sight of the gypsy, an individual whom he seemed to decline trusting, lie turned to the right, rode rapidly toward the coast, reached the foot of the great headland, on which we have witnessed his interview wilh the sad-looking woman, and, dismounting con cealed his horse in a thicket 90 THE MAN IN THE COACH He then advanced upon foot, without losing a moment, toward the spot where he had dis- embarked from the boat, and following a wind* irg path, along narrow ledges of rock, came in sight of the little indentation in the precipice. The boat was awaiting him. There were four men in it — they seemed to have just arrived. CHAPTER XIV. THE NIGHT MAUCH, AND ITS OBJECT. % HE young sailor passed along the narrow ledge, with the activity of a chamois, and suddenly stood in presence of the boat's crew. All hands went to their hats. "Welcome, Captain!" said one whose tone was that of an officer; "you see we obey orders. I was growing uneasy." "Thanks, Dargonne! Well, the time has arrived. The affair will take place to-night. Come ashore, order the men to follow us. I see they are armed, as I ordered. Direct them to make no noise and come on quickly, keeping us in sight." Lieutenant Dargonne, a small wiry4ooking (01) 92 THE NIGH7 % MARCH. personage, clad in plain clothes, like the menj turned and communicated Earle's orders. The men silently stepped from the boat: attached it to a splintered rock by a chain, and followed Earle and Dargonne, who passed back along the narrow path by which Earle had come. Beaching the slope of the headland again toward the interior, Earle went to the thicket in which he had tethered his horse, untied the animal, led him by the bridle, and, followed by the sailors, made a circuit so as to avoid Oldport, and approached Westbrooke Hall. " The moment has come now, my dear Dar- gonne," he said to his companion, " to tell you my project. I have not done so before, in obe- dience to orders. A few words will explain everything. France and England are at war. In America the war has been barbarous, they say, on the part of England, and it seems growing as barbarous here. The English admiralty Lave issued orders to their cruisers to descend upon the French coast, whenever an opportunity offered, and carry off persons of position and influence to be held as hostages. This policy has been adopted in obedience to the wishes of the English party in power, and this party is THE NIGHT MARCH. 93 led in Parliament by Viscount Cecil, who made a violent oration urging the policy I speak of. Ilia oration was reported in the English journals ; — these were transmitted to His Majesty, King Louis; in consequence, the cruisers of Ilia Majesty have received orders to retort by de- scending upon the English coast and carrying off anj^ persons of rank and importance whom they can lay their hands on." Dargonne made a sign that he understood perfectly. "Blow for blow! That is only fair," he said. " Entirely fair, my dear Dargonne ; and now to come to the work before us. When I re- ceived the general order to land at any point I thought proper on the English coast for the object in view, I decided to visit the coast of Pembrokshirc, hoping to seize the Viscount Cecil himself. I had already visited this coast, as you know ; and the viscount's large estates lay near Oldport. I might find him at home after Parliament, and that would be superb. So I came, but soon found that the viscount was still in London ; then I planned the seizure of a cousin of his, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. I visited Westbrooke Hall to reconnoitre, and M THE NIGHT MARCH. did so. Then the attack vrould Lave been made — ir shorn :. i. :-en — but I have ]; -en weak, Daigonne ! No more of that — it is c I am Earle the sailor again, and Trill act like him. I was to have made mv attack on TTest- brooke llall to-night, my object being to carry off the baronet, the viscount's cousin. But suddenly an immense piece of good fortune has happened to us. The viscount himself has arrived I n "Viscount Cecil I" "Himself —tonight.' 5 "The man vrho set the vrhcle policy against France in motion!" "The very man. And tiiink — vre shall seize him to-night ! He is at YTestbrooke Hall!" Dargonne clucked his tongue in a rapturous manner. "ila^uihcent ! ; ' lie exclaimed. " Is it not { 55 said Earle. his eyes sr arkling vrirb joy. "Such an opportunity to win rank and distinct! m is seldom offered to a piivateereman.* 3 "Xot in one hundred years, Captain ! It is splendid — unheard of. Viscount Cecil — nut only a Lord, but the man His majesty hates ! TTe will be presented — thanked, at court. Jeaa Bart will be forgotten V* THE NIGHT MARCH. 95 Earle made a gesture checking his compan- ion. "Tho work is not done; we may fail," ha said. "Fail?" "May not succeed in seizing his lordship and the baronet, for I aim to secure both. All human affairs are doubtful." "This must succeed! What are the obsta- cles ? Are there retainers to meet our cutlasses — dogs to alarm them ? " "Fortunately no dogs. The only one was poisoned to-night and will not be able to an- nounce our approach. And as to retainers, they are few. The viscount, and possibly the baro- net, will, however, make resistance." "A trifle." "Let us undervalue nothing, Dargonne. I have succeeded and failed ; but if I fail now, it will be after exhausting every effort. The vis- count is at Westbrooke Hall — there it is through the opening in the trees yonder ! We will ap- proach without noise, and enter either by surprise or escalade. If the viscount is captured, he will bo mounted on this horse — the baronet en another from his own stables, — and they will bo conducted rapidly to the boat, thence to the 96 THE NiuHl MARCH. corvette; and we will make sail for Franco, and be out of sight of the coast by daylight." They had reached the wall of the park. Earle threw the bridle of his horse over a bough in a sheltered nook, and at one bound cleared the wall, followed by Dargonne and the sailors. As he did so, a shadow glided f 1 Dm beneath an oak. At one bound Earle seized the shadow — it was the gypsy. "You hurt my throat, brother, " said the gypsy- " Ah, it is you ! IIow did you come here ? " " I followed you, brother," returned the vaga- bond coolly; "and if you are willing, I will help you in your work." Earle reflected for an instant. It was plain that the gypsy had no motive to prove false to him ; and the presence of the men made it im- possible for him to escape and give the alarm if he wished to do so. " It is well, brother," said Earle ; " follow me and obey my directions." The gypsy fell back to the ranks of the Bailors. " See that the men make no noise now, Dar- goune," said Earle, " and above all, that no fire- arms are used. The attack will be made from THE NIGHT MARCH. 97 tlu rt>ar of the house, to prevent resistance and. an alarm. Let every one preserve silence and follow me." As he spoke, they came to the desolate-loc k- ing expanse immediately in front of West- brooke Ilall. CHAPTER XV. THE VISCOUNT CECIL. |ET us precede the assaulting party, /*nd ascertain what was going on in Vest- brooke Hall at the moment when they silently followed the path through tho woods to seize the coveted prize. In the large apartment where the interview between Earle and the baronet had taken place, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke and the Viscount Cecil were seated, coldly conversing. The viscount was a gentleman of command- ing appearance, and had once been handsome ; ill health, or some other cause, however, had reduced a frame once powerful. It was an invalid, almost, who talked with the baronet, but an invalid of superb and commanding ex- pression and bearing. (98) THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 99 " I have long desired to hold this interview but have been constantly prevented, sir," he said to the baronet, in a cold tone. " Its object, my lord % " was the formal ques- tion of the baronet. " Family affairs ; and to propose to you an arrangement which may prove agreeable to us both." Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke became more for- mal and stiff than before. Two icebergs seemed to have encountered each other ; under the fro- zen crust of these men's countenances no emo- tion of any description was discernible. " An 6 arrangement, 5 my lord ? — you have art arrangement to propose to me ? " said the baro- net, with ill-concealed suspicion. " I listen, and shall be glad to know of what character it is." The viscount remained for a moment silent, his eyes fixed upon the floor; then he raised his head and said in measured and formal tones, — " Permit me, in the first place, to state briefly tho relations we now sustain toward each other, Bir. That will lead to a clear understanding of the offer I propose to make you. When the last Lord Wentworth died, he was almost with- out blood relations. Two young cousins, you 100 THE VISCOUNT CECIL. and myself, sir, were the nearest, and were se- lected by him to be liis heirs. By his will, yon were to have the great Westbrooke property here ; I that upon which his lordship had resided in this neighborhood. That is correct, is it not, sir?" "Wholly correct, my lord," was the cold reply. " I will proceed, then, sir. There was a pro- viso in the will, that if either you or myself died without issue, the survivor should inherit. Thus the entire property of Lord Wentworth would remain in his family. That also is cor- rect, sir, is it not ? " " Entirely, my lord." " Well, now for my proposition, sir. I do not propose to marry, and think it improbable that you design doing so. Thus you will in- herit from me, or I will inherit from you : the chance is even, perhaps. I am an invalid, but one of those invalids who live longer than strong men ; and your age is greater by some years than mine — in brief, I may survive you." "It is possible, as your lordship says/' re- turned the baronet, with his ghastly grin. "Well, I propose a compron&se , and I will THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 101 be entirely frank, sir, in stating its object. A great grief lias rendered me lonely, — the death of my wife, — a fact of which you are aware. I am solitary and crave affection ; thus I have fixed my regards upon a young lady whom 1 wish to adopt as my daughter. To this young lady I wish to leave a portion of my property; in fine, I propose, sir, to convey to you, now, one-half my entire estate, if, in return, you will execute an instrument settling the other half on the young lady, to be her own at my death." "The name of the young lady, my lord, if you please ? " said Sir Murdaugh, coldly. " It is unimportant — I will withhold it for the present. What say you to my proposition, sir?" Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke rose, with a grin of unconcealed triumph. " I say that circumstances render it impossi- ble for me to accept it, my lord !" " Circumstances ? Of what nature, sir ? " " I will be franker than your lord&hip. The circumstance of my approaching marriage." , " Your marriage ? " " Tour lordship dwells upon the word 'your;' it is scarce polite." 102 THE VISCOUNT CECIL. The viscount suddenly grew freezing. " Tour pardon, sir. It was, indeed, scant courtesy. I will not further trouble you, save to congratulate you upon your approaching nuptials." The baronet bowed ironically. " I can understand, sir," said the viscount, in the same tone, " that your parental anticipations quite overturn my own views. "Your children may inherit my estate : so be it, sir. God has so decreed it." Something like a convulsion passed over the paleface. Then it resumed its expression of lofty and commanding calmness, and the vis- count said, — "Will you be good enough to order my coach, sir ? I will sleep at my own home to- night." As lie uttered the words, the window in the adjoining room was driven in by a heavy blow, the sash was thrown up, and Earle, at the head of his men, leaped into the apartment. CHAPTER XVI. THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 'ABLE advanced with drawn sword to- "Surrender, or you are deadt" he <9^e> said, presenting the point to the vis- count's heart. The nobleman's reply was to draw his dress- sword, and lunge straight at Earle's breast. But the sailor was far too powerful for him. With a whirl of his weapon, he sent the dress- sword of the viscount spinning across the room. In spite of his disarmed condition, the vis- count continued to resist, and was with diffi- culty secured. "No harm is designed yOftt lordship," said Earle. ward the viscount and baronet. (103) 104: THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. And ho wheeled round to seize Sir Murdaagb Westbrooke. The baronet had disappeared, the explana- tion of which was simple. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, for reasons best known to himself, had amused his leisure mo- ments by constructing in the wall of the apart- ment a secret door, which opened by means of a spring and closed in the same manner. Was the secret recess, or means of exit, intended to be employed in the event of a sudden advance by the officers of the law upon him? It is impossible to say, but there was the means of safety at hand, and the baronet made use of it. Finding that the viscount was in the power of the midnight assailants, Sir Murdaugh West- brooke determined to save himself. At one bound he reached the wall, leaned against the concealed knob, the door flew open, the baronet passed through it, and the panel flew to again, protecting, with its three inches of solid oak, the fugitive from all further danger. Thus the baronet had evaded him, but Earle had secured the greater prize. The frightened servants had fled at the first noise, and no oppo- sition was made. " Now to gain the boat," said Earle ; " no THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 105 time is to be lost, as the alarm may bo givci* 1 " He made a sign and the great front d. I will not give up the search yet. I go now, Dut beware of rae when I return ! " 140 BARONET AND SOLITARY. With these words lie hastened from the hut, and rapidly descended the path taken by Wilde and the men. In ten minutes, such was his haste, he readied the clump of trees in which they waited beside their horses. " Mount ! 55 he ordered. The men threw themselves into the saddle. The baronet and Wilde rode in front, at full gallop. " He is at Maverick House ! " said the former, hoarsely ; " and to-night may end that matter, Wilde. But I have other work for you ! Be ready to set out for France at daylight." "Yes, sir." " You were at Martigny with me — you re- member ? " " Yes, sir." " Well, listen now to my instructions, and see that you obey them to the letter. H you suc- ceed — a thousand pounds sterling ! If you fail, find some other master. Now listen ! " And in rapid words he gave the man his in- structions as they went on at full gallop. As the baronet ended, Maverick House glim mered before them in the moonlight a quarter of a mile distant. BARONET AND SOLITARY. 141 €i The time is near ! " he said ; " no faltering Wilde ! this man must die ! " And turning to the men, — " The desperado we are in search cf is here ! " ho said, " and ready to resist. At the signal from me, fire on him ! Shoot him down — a hundred guineas to the man who kills him I " CHAPTER in. WHAT ONE WOMAN IS CAPABLE OF TOWARD ANOTHER. N hour or two before, Ellinor and Rose Maverick had issued forth, and strolled over the russet lawn, to enjoy the mild and caressing airs of the autumn evening. It was what is called " St. Martin's Summer." The breeze was soft, and fanned their foreheads like the zephyrs of spring. The cutting blasts had not whirled the brown leaves from the trees. The year was going to his death in his trappings of golden sunsets ; mists curled around the headlands ; the moonlight, mixing with the orange tint in the west, slept serenely on the charming landscape. The two girls had wandered some distance in the shrubbery. (143) TV/O WOMEN. 143 The superb beauty of Ellinor was unci, singed. Her dark eyes sparkled with satirical wit, hei lips curled with irony, and the magnetic glances kept for the male sex had given way to an ex pression best described as " spiteful." Rose was much altered. The delicate carna tion of her cheeks had disappeared. She walk- ed oyer the russet turf with slow and languid steps. It was the pale flower of autumn beside the dazzling rose of summer, and the summer flower seemed to be amusing herself at the ex- pense of the autumn primrose. " What a very romantic affair ! Who would ever have believed it ?" said Ellinor, satirically. " The elegant and high-born Miss Rose Maver- ick in a love-sick condition about an unknown adventurer ! " Rose turned her head impatiently, and a slight color came to her pale cheeks. " I have already told you, Ellinor, that it was unpleasant to me to be spoken to in that man- ner," she said. " I don't believe it ! " was the reply. It is not unpleasant, my quiet little cousin ! You are proud of your romance. Come, confess! art you ashamed of your — well, of your frieiwk thip for the handsome Mr. Delamere % " TWO WOMLN. " I am not," said Rose, firmly. " lie saved my life, us he did yours. We owe him friend sliip, at least — " "And love? Ah! you wince, my pretty cousin. Tour blushes betray you." Hose Maverick drew herself up with some hauteur, but made no reply. " Oh ! there is your fine air again, my Lady Disdain ! " snarled the fair Ellinor. " If you are not in love with him, why have you drooped like a flower when the frost comes, ever 6ince that night when he disappeared so mysteri- ously? Before, your spirits were excellent, and I think the goody old people, if not the men, liked you much better than they liked me, pre- ferring your " sweet smile, full of native good- ness," one of them said, I remember, " to my brilliant glances." Well, where is the sweet smile ? Why do you sit for hours in sad mu- sings ? Why have you lost all interest in your flowers, and even forgot to feed your linnet yesterday ? I reply that you are in love — in love with the interesting unknown ! " Rose had turned with an offended air to re-enter the house. Ellinor followed, goading and snapping at her. TWO WOMEN. 145 " Deny it, if you dare, my romantic cousin ! " she said. Rose made no reply. She walked quietly to- ward the house, her companion beside her, and laughing maliciously. " Now you really ought to have taken pattern by my insignificant self," went on her torment- or. " The late interesting Mr. Delamere had the bad taste to prefer me to you. I am penni- less, only a poor girl, but lie honored me by his attentions ; in spite of which I remained quite heart-whole and not in the least romantic about the handsome stranger. Oh, he said a number of things to me ! Did I never tell you that be- fore ? lie looked at me in such a way ! Ho told me at last — but here I am becoming in- discreet. If he did not kiss my shoes, and lay his neck down for me to place my foot upon, it was only because he saw that I was too proper a young lady to encourage a strange adven- turer ! There is the blush again, and this time it is an angry blush. Very well, but this is true. lie would have knelt down qiuckly enough, if he had hoped I would raise him up in my arms ! And what he did do was some- thing! He — " " I am weary of all this," said Iioso, stung to 10 146 TWO WOMEN. the quick. " I wonder you take such pains to prove that you are heartless, Ellinor. You are witty and brilliant, you think. Other persons would call your wit ill-temper." The words went home and aroused in the ironical Ellinor a good old-fashioned lit of pure anger. " Ah, there you are, my fine cousin ! " she cried. " You treat me, as usual, to moral and scriptural abuse. Thank your ladyship ! But 'tis enough for the present. I'll go home now and hear the rest of the sermon on another oc- casion. Thank you ! — I am 6 ill-tempered ' ! Oh, yes ! And all because I refer to what everybody is speaking of ! I say what every- body is speaking of, madam! — your lovesick state of mind all about this unknown stranger, Mr. Delamere ! The very neighbors laugh at it ! You have no pride, they say. They won- der, as your family wonder, that you should thus honor a person of unknown position and blood, that ever since he disappeared in that mysterious, and, I must say, very suspicious manner, you should have mourned him and cried about him, and loved the very chair ha sat in ! That is all I have to say, madam I 1 Ill- tempered ' I " TWO WOMEN. 147 And the fair Ellinor tossed her head in su- perb wrath. " I'd like to know what I have said to expose myself to that insult!" she added. "< Ill- tempered M and all because I laugh at your infatuation about an adventurer ! " "Mr. Delamere was not an adventurer 1 55 was Rose's cold response. " What, then, was he ? this charming stranger, whose amateur fishing excursions terminated so mysteriously, and so very suspiciously." " I see no mystery and no ground for suspic- ion in his disappearance," was Rose Maverick's response. " You know as well as 1 do, Ellinor, that he has been missing since the night of the attack on Westbrooke Hall, when the Vifecount Cecil was carried off. It is nearly certain now, as you know equally well, that this attack was made by a party of Frenchmen from a vessel, in the channel, and that their object was to ab- duct persons of rank to hold as hostages." " Pray what has that to do with it, if I may address a question without offence to your ladyship?" " Simply this. Mr. Delamere was returning from his visit here to Oldport, on the night of the attack. On the next morning he had dis- 148 TWO WOMEN. appeared, and liis horse was found grazing in the fields. Nothing further is known ; but it is cer- tainly reasonable to suppose that he too was car- ried off, — since his dress, demeanor, and all connected with him, you will not deny, indi- cated that lie was a gentleman. As such he was worth attention. He was seen no more. Is it so improbable that the French people cap- tured him ?" "A fine theory, indeed ! " " It is at least more charitable than to con- clude that he was an adventurer and disappeared as he came, — "mysteriously." " You defend your protegd well, madam.* " I take the part of the absent, who are do- famed." " And the absent thanks you I " said a voice in the shrubbery, very near them. The young ladies recoiled, and uttering ex- clamations, gazed with affright toward the shadow. A figure wrapped in a cloak advanced. The face was pale, thin, and worn, but resolute and stern. It was Earle. CHAPTER IV. THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. § SUDDEN and unexpected event was the occasion of Earle's presence at Maverick House. He had remained prostrate on a couch of illness for weeks after the night of the attack on Westbrooke Hall — the recluse watching over him in the solitary hut with deep solici- tude and tenderness. At last the wound in his shoulder had healed He had left his sick bed. The fresh breeze of the ocean infused new life into his frame ; and seated for hours on the bench in front of the rude cabin on the great headland, he had looked through his glass out ctn the channel and along the coast. Where was the corvette? he asked himself. (149) 150 THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. What had become of his beloved craft? The Bailor loves his ship, and the fate of the corvette was ever on Earle's mind. Had she arrived safely with her prize, the viscount, or had she been chased and captured by some English frigate? Was she riding in pride, or sunk fathoms deep beneath the waves of St. George's Channel ? He had been seated in his customary seat on that morning, gazing through his glass and asking himself these questions, when all at once the recluse saw him rise to his feet, and heard him utter an exclamation, almost a cry, of joy. The corvette was visible in the offing ! There was no mistaking the object of his pride and affection! The eye of the sailor knows his craft, as the eye of the lover knows his mistress. There was the corvette slowly beating up toward the coast of Pembrokeshire ; and as his mother hastened to his side, Earle pointed tho vessel out and exclaimed, — " There she is, mother !" " Your ship, my son ? " said the poor recluse, not sharing his joy. "Yes, yes, mother! My own corvette I—- coming to rescue her commander." " Then you will leave me ? " THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 151 lie turned toward her, and looked at hei with great tenderness. " See how strong the sailor spirit is in me : I had not thought of that," lie said. " While I think first of it. You go, and I shall be alone again." Her voice was full of melancholy, and the sailor's joy was dimmed. " Come with me, my mother. Leave this wild and lonely spot. Your native Normandy is brighter than this land; come! Nothing there shall ever part us." " You say Normandy : how do you know that Normandy is my birthplace?" said the recluse, suddenly. " From your missal, mother, — the little book you pray from. I found it on the table near my sick couch, and -opened it. On the first leaf is written, 6 Marianne Earle, Hartigny, Nor- mandy.' " The recluse was silent. " Until now I had thought you a native of the South, mother, where we always lived ; but you never told me any thing. There will be time, to discuss all this, however. Now time is want- ing. See ! look through my glass. There is a man ; it is Dargonne, on the deck of the cor- 152 THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. vette. He has his glass, and is looking for me. He waves his handkerchief, and I reply." Earle waved his own handkerchief. " You see, mother ! Get ready to come with me." " I cannot." "Why not?" " I must remain here. Do not ask me why, my son." " And we shall part ! " " It breaks my heart, but I must remain, Ed- mond. Ask me not why." "Enough, my mother; I will say no more. , Women like yourself never yield. I must go ; but I will return. My duty calls m< now, but we shall still love each other. See ! ' he signal flags are run up. I read them as I re* d print." "What do they say?" ' Earle looked through his glass, and repeated 6lowly as the fluttering signal flags syl) *Med the message, — "Be at — the old place — to-night." " The recluse sank upon the bench. " Then it is ended — all my happiness at seo Ing you near me, my child," she murmuroi And looking at him, she said to herseli in a low voice, — THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 153 " He does not hear me ; he is looking at his vessel, waving his handkerchief. That means that he will be punctual. Oh ! why do we love in this world? Why do we become wrapped up in human beings until we are unhappy with- out them ? Then they go — we are alone — our very love works our woe. Alas! my child is going to leave me, and I will be alone." Earle turned toward her, joyously. \ "See! she understands my signal, mother. She has tacked about, content — is making for the coast of Ireland — but she will bo here without fail, again, to-night ! " i CHAPTEE V. earle's design, S evening approached, Earle dressed Ion- self in his full uniform of a captain in the French navy, buckled on his belt and pistols, and, wrapping his cloak around him, turned to the recluse. "I am going to be absent for an hour, my mother, 55 he said. "A last duty makes this necessary. Be not afraid : I will soon return, and then I will renew my persuasions to induce you to embark with me for France. Reflect that it will make me very happy, mother; and the good God watch over you. 55 He left the hut. The recluse had made no response. Bending down and weeping silently, she presented an appearance of the deepest de- jection. (154) EARLESS DESIGN. 155 Earle threw a last tender glance toward her and disappeared in the dusk of evening. He followed the path leading down the head land, in the direction of Maverick House ; and just as Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, with his party, left Westbrooke Hall in pursuit of him, entered the Maverick woods, half a league from the mansion. As he went on with firm tread, and an ex- pression of stern resolution upon his features, he muttered to himself, — " Yes : this is a duty, and I will not leave the country without performing it. Chance has placed me in possession of a secret intimately concerning Arthur Maverick, the man who has called me friend, and his household; a mur- derer is about to enter that household as the husband of one of the family whose head he has assassinated. I alone, besides the gypsy, who has disappeared, can warn the victim. I swear I will do so, and from a sense of duty, not in the least from a mean jealousy; and then, if the marriage takes place, let it take place." Ho went on rapidly. Pale and thin as ho was, it was evident that his physical vigor was nearly unabated. "Jealousy!" he muttered as he proceeded 156 EARLE'S DESIGN, beneath the huge boughs, toward Maverick House, — " jealousy ! oh, no ! I swear that I am not in the least jealous. The love I had for that woman is dead. She made me crazy for a time; but I have become sane. I can see now — thanks to the hours of meditation and recollee- on my sick couch — that she is false, acted a part with me, lured me on to gratify a poor sentiment of vanity; and when she had en- trapped me, and driven me to an avowal, threw me away without a thought or care for me. "Fool that I was to imagine that the poor stranger could compete with the rich baronet in madam's eyes. Fool, above all, to give my love to a thing of deception, false as the sea. As the sea? I do it wrong. It is changeable and dangerous, but makes no protestations. You embark on it with a knowledge of its perils. This woman's glance and smile said, 6 There is no danger with me.' They fooled me. I was her slave. I am free now ; and I am not jealous. Were she to hold ~ut her hand now, I would not take it, for I know her. Fool! to pass by that pure flower, Arthur Maverick's sister, and bestow my love upon this quicksand, Arthur Maverick's cousin. But it is over — all that madness. I care not if she marry the assassin EARLE'S DESIGN. 157 and monster. It is to save Arthur Maverick, my friend, that I go to warn him, and to speak in my own name and character. There is the house, here is the wall : in ten minutes I shall be there." As he spoke, rapid steps were heard on the path behind him, and he turned round. Through the dim light a man was seen run- ning towards him, and he drew his pistol. " Don't shoot, brother. I am a friend ! " eaid the pursuer. And the gypsy reached him. " Take care, brother 1 " he said ; u Sir Mur« daugh Westbrooke is on your track ! " CHAPTER VI. THE WITNESS. ABLE gazed at the gypsy without exhibit- ing the least emotion at these words. " How do you know that ? " he said. " But first tell me where you have been % ' " I have been yonder in the woods, in the great ravine beyond Maverick House. On the night of the attack on "Westbrooke Hall, I went with you as far as the ledge on the sea shore. There my heart failed me. I heard the shouts of the revenue guard. I was a coward, and glided into the darkness." " You did well. I have been wounded ; but that is no matter. You say I am pursued ? " " Yes, brother. I was at the revenue station to-day, offering to tell fortunes. As I was tell- ing that of the young officer in command, the (158) THE WITNESS. 159 man Wilde rode up hastily. lie brought a note. The officer read it half aloud, and I heard it. It was from Sir Murdaugh West- brooke ; and asked for a party of men to arrest you. You were lurking at a place on the coast near the village of Oldport." " Ah ! hp has found out that ? And the men were sent ? " " Yes, brother. They were ordered out im- mediately. Then I left in a hurry, and began to run toward Oldport. As I went, I thought of the hut on the headland, where the solitary woman lives. You might be there, and I went up the steep cliff by a path I found. You were gone ; the woman said, had followed the path toward Maverick House. I ran after you, and here I am. The baronet is probably on your track too." Earle nodded coolly. " It is well," he said. He looked keenly at the gypsy, as though to read him through. The look seemed to be un- derstood by the vagabond, nis face flushed, and he said, — u You don't doubt me, brother? " "No," said Earle, extending his hand; "but this deep interest you show in a stranger — " 160 THE WITNESS. u You are no stranger, brother. Tou are one of the Rommanye Eye. But there is more to make me your friend. You have been kind to me. You have not despised me. All the world despises the gypsies. They are vagabonds and thieves! At their appearance, the housewife takes in her linen from the hedge. When they camp in the woods near a homestead, the farmer looks to his sheep and pigs. They are outcasts ; all curse them ! I am one of them, and you have been kind, not cruel. You are a gentle- man, and have touched my hand and called the poor gypsy ' brother.' That has moved him ; he is your friend. 1 swear to watch over and obey you, brother ! " Earle saw that the speaker was in earnest, and suddenly the thought came, " Here is the wit- ness to the murder." "You will do what I ask of you, then, brother ? 55 he said. " I swear it ; order me. I am yours ! " " Then follow me. I am going to reveal the murderer of Giles Maverick to his son Arthur. Remain concealed in the shadow of the trees near the house. When I call you, come quickly. See, we are near now. Here is the wall!" THE WITNESS. 161 They leaped into the park, and rapidly ap- I roached the house. "Remain here!" said Earle, pointing to a spot in the shrubbery ; " and when you hear me blow on my sailor's whistle, come quickly, and give your testimony." The gypsy made a sign of obedience. " I will lose no time, brother ; and I advise you to hasten. The baronet will not find you on the coast, and will come straight here. I warn you." " Let him come ! " And Earle rapidly made his way toward the mansion. Suddenly he heard the sound of voices, and Hose and Ellinor passed in the moonlight. He clearly distinguished what was said; heard the taunts of Ellinor, the charge of loving him, which she brought against her cousin ; and heard, too, the defer ce made of him by Hose. A moment afterward he stood before them. 11 CHAPTER VII. THE DENUNCIATION. ARLE wrapped his cloak around him so as to conceal his uniform, and bowing low to Rose, said, in his deep voice, — " Once more I thank you, madam. You defend me. The attack is strange ! 55 He turned to Ellinor. "I loved you once, or thought I did," he said, coolly. "I love you no longer — have ceased for more than a month to care aught for you. I shall see you no more — before I go I undeceive you on that point, if you have deceived yourself. 55 Ellinor Maverick blushed crimson at the stern and almost contemptuous words of the sailor, ller pride was cruelly mortified, and anger foil, wed — her eyes darted lightnings. (162) THE DENUNCIATION. 163 Before she could speak, however, Earle had turned his back upon her. lie went to meet Arthur Maverick, who, startled by the exclama- tions of the ladies at Earle's appearance, had hurried out to ascertain the cause of their agitation. "In good time!" said Earle; "it is yon whom I come to see." " Mr. Delamere ? Is it possible that you are alive, and not a prisoner either ? We thought you had been captured." " I will explain all, some day," was Earle's reply; " now there is no time. I came not to explain this disapearance, but a much more mysterious affair. My explanation must be brief, the meaning of which statement you willl soon discover, friend." " Your words astound me ! " " I am about to astound you far more. The object of my hurried visit to-night is to reveal to you what I should have revealed long since." "To reveal— what?" " The murderer of your father ! " Arthur Maverick started, and almost recoiled. "You know the mystery of that terrible affair?" "Yes!" THE DENUNCIATION'. "Good heavens, Mr. Delainerc! Speak I What frightful intelligence have you to com- municate ? " "Intelligence truly frightful! for it reveals a depravity almost incredible. Tell me, friend, — you are that to me, — what think you of love and murder mingled ? What would you say if I told you that your father's murderer aspires to an al- liance with one of your own family ! What if the man whose hands reek with the blood of the uncle, comes to ask the hand of the niece, hopes to make Miss Ellinor Maverick his wife?" Arthur gazed at the speaker with distended eyes. Ellinor Maverick, as pale as death, now> seemed about to faint. "You would say — you surely do not mean — ?" Arthur said in a low and agitated voice. " I mean that Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, of Westbrooke Hall, is the murderer of Giles Mav- erick, your father ! " For a moment a deep silence reigned through- out the entire group. The words seemed to paralyze the listeners, and to deprive thorn of the power of utterance. The first person who spoke was Ellino* Mav* TFIE DENUNCIATION. 165 erick. She sprang forward with the f l ry of a tigress. "Who are you, sir?" she cried, white with rage, "who bring this accusation? who are you — the unknown adventurer who dare to assault the character of a gentleman of rank ? Speak ! /will defend Sir Murdaugh, if my cousin is too cowardly to do so!" Earle bowed with ironical ceremony. " I compliment you, madam, upon your chiv- alric defence of the absent. It seems, then, that you can defend as well as attack those who are not present to take their own parts I " " Answer ! no evasion ! No trick to avoid a reply to my question!" exclaimed the young lady, stung to wild fury. " Your question, madam ? " " Who are you, I demand, who sneak hero to destroy a gentleman } s character?" Earle threw back his cloak, and revealed his full uniform of a French captain. "I am Edmond Earle, of the Fren(\inavy; an enemy, but an officer and a gentleman ! I came to avow that; you hasten the avowal. Yes," he said, turning to the astonished Arthur, " I am not Mr. Delamere, but Captain Earle. I 1G6 THE DENUNCIATION. have assumed a part — it was repugnant, but it was done in compliance with orders. French civilians were seized on the French coast — I came to seize English civilians on the English coast ! It was I who attacked Westbrooke Hall and, carried off the Viscount Cecil, — it was I who was pursued and wounded on the sea-shore. I have remained here since that time ; my ship has returned for me, and the boat is now wait- ing; but I have come here, risking my life, you see, with a mounted party on my track, to say, 6 Thanks for your hospitality friends ! I never betrayed that. Before I go, I per- form a duty; act as your best friend would act — reveal the fact that a murderer, the murderer of your own father, is about to enter your family as the husband of a member of that family.' " Arthur Maverick looked and listened with stupefaction. Words seemed to fail him. " The avowal of my real character is danger- ous, perhaps," said Earle; " but I swore I would make it. I am a French officer, and politically your enemy ; but personally, my heart beats with earnest affection for you. Do not remem- ber that I am an enemy — think me you? THE DENUNCIATION. 167 friend. There is little time left. Let rae hasten and prove my charges." He made the signal agreed upon, and the gypsy appeared quickly. " This man is a vagabond, and yon may not credit him," said Earle ; " but listen to his story first, and form your opinion.' 5 • At a sign from Earle the gypsy rapidly narrated the scene at the pool in the forest, more than five years before. As he painted in vivid colors the sombre event which he had witnessed, — the meeting of the enemies, the apparently friendly greeting, the sudden stab, the dog leaping at the murderer's throat, and the murdered man beaten with fragments of rock, and his body dragged to and sunken in the pool, — as this terrible scene was depicted in the forcible words of the gypsy, Arthur Mave- rick shuddered, and his face assumed the ashy hue of a corpse. " You do not believe that, perhaps," said Earle, as the gypsy terminated his narrative. "You may say that I am the rejected suitor of Miss Maverick, and have suborned this man to perjure himself , in order to ruin my rivvl. So be it! form that theory, and try this narrative by the 168 THE DENUNd iTIOA\ strongest test. Believe nothing until it is ao counted for upon reasonable grounds ; and first, was there no reason why Sir Murdaugh TTest- brooke should hate your father ? n " I know of none," said Arthur Maverick in a stifled voice. "/am better informed ! " « You?" " Tour father bound and lashed the baronet as men lash a dog ! Were you too young to know that fact ? Interrogate your memory." " Good heavens ! And it was my father, then, who committed that terrible outrage, with which the whole country rang ! Is it possible ? and yet, it is incredible, but — " " Had they not quarreled ? " " Yes, yes ! I now recall old stories of a vio- lent scene between them. They were on a race- course ; had an altercation ; my father gave Sir Murdaugh the lie, and the baronet struck him with his riding-whip. Before he could repeat the blow, the bystanders interposed and forced Sir Murdaugh from the ground ! " " That is enough," said Earle, coolly ; " and the sham of motive is perfect. Your father quar- rels with the baronet, the baronet inflicts a terri- THE DENUNCIATION'. 169 ble indignity upon Mr. Maverick ; the 'esult is that your father returns the insult in kind by binding and lashing his adversary; and the fifth act of the drama is the murder of youi father by that adversary," CHAPTER VII. THE BLOOD-nOUND. RTIIUR Maverick's eyes were fixed upon the ground. Ilis expression of horror and astonishment began to give place to a gloomy rage. " Then, if this be true, I have welcomed and touched the hand of my father's murderer! 5 ' he muttered. Before Earle could reply, Ellinor Maverick bounded toward them. White with fury, chiefly from the undisguised contempt of her former lover, she caught Arthur by the arm, almost shook him in her rage, and half hissed through her closed set teeth, — * Do you believe that spy and liar ? " (170) THE BLOOD-HOUND. 171 Arthur Maverick drew back and extricated his anil from her grasp. "Permit me to manage my own affairs madam, and believe or disbelieve as seems good to me," he said, coldly. " Believe as you will, then ! " was the furious response ; " disgrace your name if you will, by giving credit to this convicted spy and adven- turer! But you shall not poison iny mind against — " "Tour uncle's murderer, madam? As you will — that is your affair. I arrogate no au- thority over you. But listen to me. I am the head of the house of Maverick in Pembrokshire ; my father was murdered ; a man is charged with the n urder. I will pursue the inquiry to the last limits. If true, the guilty shall suffer. If untrue, the innocent will be vindicated. Does that suit your views, madam ? If not, the fact will not move me." Ellinor was carried away by her rage. " I say the very idea is an insult ! " " So be it, madam. People will be insulted, then." " It is an outrage — a thing unheard of, that this unknown adventurer, this man who dared to pay his addresses to me, whora I sp.irned 172 THE BLOOD-HOUND. and laughed at, and ordered to leave my pres- ence, — it is infamous that on his testimony a gentleman of rank and character should bo suspected ! " " She fights hard for her rich suitor ! " mut- tered Earle, with stern irony. And then raising his voice, — "May I call your attention to one fact, madam ? " he said, coldly : " I have no testimony to give." " You have paid this vulgar wretch to blacken Sir Murdaugh ! " " I am too poor, madam ! " lie made her a mock inclination, and spoke with an accent of such contempt that the lady shuddered with rage, and with difficulty re- frained from springing at him. " To end this scene," said Earle, returning to his gloomy tone, full of sternness and cold resolution : " I expected this reception — I was thus prepared for it, and it does not move me. I had my duty to perform, and have performed it, — at some risk, too," he said to Arthur Maverick. "Do you doubt that? Listen ! " He raised his finger, and there was dead Bilence for a moncnt. THE BLOOD h OUND. 173 In the midst of this silence rapid hoof -strokes were heard on the road leading to the great gate. " Do you hear ? " said Earle, coolly. " Yes ! " was Arthur Maverick's reply — " the meaning of that sound ? 55 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke is coming hither with a party to seize and murder me." " The baronet?" " In person ! Can you not fancy the worthy's motive? On the night when this black mystery was revealed to me, he had me tracked — his secret emissary overhead all. Sir Maudaugh knows that I know — his good name is threatened. I may send him to the gallows — he has doomed me — and is coming to mur- der me ! " The hoof -strokes sounded nearer, and a shud- der ran through Rose Maverick, who was stand- ing pale but erect beside her brother. " My sentence is already pronounced ; I am to die," said Earle, coolly ; " and I lose my life by coming hither to warn you of this man's character! Does that prove, or does it not, that I believe this gypsy's statement? lie alone can speak of that scene — " Earle suddenly stopped. 174 THE BLOOD-HOUKD. The hoof -strokes clashed on the avenue. The pursuers were nearly upon them. "Yes, yes!" said Earle: "there is another wit- ness — and he is here ! the blood-hound ! — you informed me that he was still alive, old and blind nearly. Send for the dog ! — he will know the murderer ! " " I will go for him in person ! wait ! " And Arthur Maverick disappeared at a bound toward the rear of the mansion, where the bloodhound — dangerous in spite of his great age — was kept chained. As his figure disappeared. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke rushed toward the group. Behind came his men, ready to obey his orders. " There he is ! 55 shouted the baronet, " armed and ready to resist ! " Earle's pistol was indeed in his hand, and unconsciously he raised it. " lie is ready to fire ! Shoot him down 1 " cried the baronet furiously. And he raised his own pistol, but suddenly let it fall. Rose Maverick had rushed between Earle and the threatening muzzle. " You dare not fire upon me ! she exclaimed disdainfully ; " if you dare — fire ! " THE BLOOD-HOUND. 175 And beautiful, superb, her cheeks burning with passionate feeling, — " I know now that you murdered my father ! n she exclaimed. Tne words were nearly drowned in a hoarse and threatening roar; and an instant after- wards an enormous blood-hound bounded down the steps. At sight of the dog, Sir Murdaugh West- brooke uttered a hoarse cry and turned to fly. It was too late. The dog had recognized the murderer of his master. His bloodshot eyes glared at the baronet for an instant ; his huge mouth opened wide, displaying the jagged teeth — then with one bound the blood-hound reached the spot and sprung at his enemy's throat. A second cry, hoarse and horror-stricken like the first, came from the baronet. But this time it was suddenly interrupted. The hound's teeth were on his throat. A supernatural strength seemed to animate the faithful animal — the baronet struggled in vain — suddenly man and dog fell beneath the trampling hoofs of the horses, and Earle's voice was heard exclaim- ing, — " Behold the murderer of Giles Maverick ! " 176 THE BLOOD-HOJND. As ho uttered the words the far boom of can non came from the channel. Earle started. It came a second time. The omnious sound was unmistakable. "The corvette! — she is attacked!" cried Earle. And seizing the bridle of the baronet's horse, he leaped into the saddle. " Farewell, friends ! " he cried to Arthur and Hose : " there are my cannon ! — I know their ring ! My corvette is fighting anxf I am absent ! Farewell ! " And charging, pistol in hand, the confused revenue guard, he passed through them, fol- lowed only by a few random shots, and then disappeared toward the coast. CHAPTER IX. WHAT FOLLOWED. AELE went on at full speed. The boat, lie knew, awaited him at tho cove under the headland: to reach the <»7$ spot now without delay was tho one thought that possessed him. The animal he bestrodo was a powerful hunter, of the purest blood and the highest speed. At every bound he cleared ten feet. Earlc drove him on mercilessly. With erect head, floating mane, and foam flying from his jaws, he darted straight on toward the coast, along whose headlands and rocky promontories reverberated the hoarse boom of the cannon. Suddenly another sound mingled with the far ominous roar, — the smiting of hoofs on the road behind. 13 (177) 173 WHAT FOLLOWED. Earle turned his head and listened. 1 They are following me," he muttered, dig- ging the spur into his horse's sides. He was not mistaken. Sir Murdaugh "West- brooke was on his track. A brief but fiery scene had followed the fall of the baronet, in the clutch of the blood-hound. His men ran to him, dragged off the dog, and he rose to his feet, trembling, bleeding, and as pale as a corpse. " The meaning — of — this — outrage ? " he gasped. " Ask your memory," was Arthur Maverick's response, in a low, hoarse tone. He advanced close to the baronet as he spoke, and fixed his eyes upon him. " You are the murderer of my father ! " came in a low hiss through his pale lips. The baronet recoiled, and his eyes seemed starting from their cavernous sockets. u That hound convicts you ! See ! I have only to step aside and he will tear you to the earth a second time ! Wretch! murderer! con- victed assassin ! your black crime shall not go unpunished longer!" And catching the baronet by the throat, he WDuld have strangled him despite his great WHA T FOL LOWED. 179 strength, had not the men forcibly interposed, and parted them instantly. K It — is — well ! " gasped the baronet, stag- gering back ; " you shall answer for this outrage. I go now, but I return. My horse ! " And turning, he caught almost mechanically, the bridle of a horse which one of the men hastened to lead forward. The baronet mounted hastily, and made a sign to his men to do likewise. Arthur Maverick seemed to hesitate whether he would attempt to retain him or not. " Well, go ! " he said ; " but beware how yon set your foot here again. Return, as you say you will, and you die by my hand." The baronet looked at the speaker with eyes full of indescribable rage, with which was mingled no little trepidation. "It is well!" he said, in a low tone; "but let the son beware of the fate of the father." As he spoke he turned his horse's head, and struck the spur into the animal's sides. " Come ! " he shouted in hoarse tones to the men; "we may catch up with the spy yet. A hundred guineas for his head! " And he set out at full speed on the track of 180 WHAT FOLLOWED. Earle. The men followed, and the party disap- peared like a whilwind. The dismounted man, whose horse the bar- onet rode, ran after them. The gypsy had already disappeared. CHAPTER X. THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. AKLE continued his flight, making straight for the coast. The hunter cleared the earth with long strides, and promised very soon to dis- tance all pursuit and reach the strand. Suddenly he staggered. A sharp stone had entered his foot, and inflicted a deep wound. Such was the pain that he was unable to keep up his great speed ; his pace fell off ; he limped terribly; and Earle heard behind him the shouts of the pursuers, who every moment were gaining upon him. He turned and looked o^er his shoulder; then through the night mist toward the coast From the rear came threatening cries ; from the (181) 182 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. front, the long reverberating boom of cannon from Ihe channel. Behind that curtain of white mist wrapping the shores and the great headlands, Earle felt that a hard combat was going on between his corvette and an English frigate probably. The thought drove him to frenzy almost, lie struck the poor animal he rode, with his clenched fist. "Faster! faster!" he exclaimed. "I care not for myself. But she is attached yonder — my corvette ! They are fighting, and I am not there ! " "With merciless spur, he drove the animal to full speed, in spite of his wound ; and thus pur- suers and pursued swept onward toward the sea. It was now a race for life. The party com- manded by Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke were every moment gaining on the sailor. Either they caught glimpses of him, or heard the sound of his horse's hoofs. They came closer and closer, and Earle heard them, and prepared for the worst. As his horse went on at full speed nearly, in spite of the painful limp, the sailor slipped his belt round, and placed the handle of hi3 pistol where he could easily grasp it THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 183 " If they come up, I will figlit them all/' he muttered, with his short, defiant laugh. " That is not brave; it is the only course! If I am arrested, I will die on the gallows. Yes, my good Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, you pLty with edged tools. Tou may come up with me, but you come to your death ! " A pistol-shot was heard, and a bullet whistled by his head. He drew his own weapon, but did not fire. " I am too good a sailor to waste my shot," he muttered. And he went on, pursued by cries ; they evi- dently saw him, and were gaining rapidly - on him. The mist opening for a moment, gave him all at once a full glimpse of the party. At their head rode Sir Murdaugh, and Earle heard him howl, — " Shoot him down ! Death to him ! " Then the mist enveloped them. But from this mist came, nearer and nearer, the hoof-strokes and the cries. Earle's horse staggered under him, and seemed about to fall. From the front, as before, came the thunder of cannon, and with this now mingled the hoarse dash of the waves. 1S4 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. " The coast is near. I cannot sec, but there is the sound a sailor knows," muttered Earle, The roll of the surf grew louder. With it came now the confused sound of voices. Earle's brows were heavily knit. "I had forgotten that!" he exclaimed " While I am followed by this party, bent on my death, another party awaits me yonder. Be- tween the two I shall be crushed! " The wind whirled away the mist, and on the strand were seen confused shapes, — men rm> ning to and fro. " I have mistaken my route, and am near Oldport," muttered Earle. Then gazing before him, — " If these people see me, I am lost !" he ex claimed. As he spoke, the party behind rushed upon him, with fierce shouts. From the mist en tergcd a whirlwind of furious enemies, pistol in hand. " Halt ! or you are dead ! " Earle replied by firing at the baronet. The bullet passed through his hat. Only a moment afterwards a hail-storm of balls whis- tled around the sailor. His horse had struck his wounded foot, and, half falling, saved the life of his rider. THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 135 The bullets passed over Earle's head, And the baronet uttered a cry of rage. " Ride him down ! See, his horse will carry him no farther ! " Earle drove the spur deep into his animal's side. The only result was that the horse uttered a groan, and nearly fell. At the same moment violent hands caught the bridle, and threw him on his haunches. "Who be you ? " cried a voice — the voice of the man in front. Earle recognized that voice. It belonged fo Goliath. lie threw himself from the saddle. "I am one of the wolves!" he said; "and they are after me ! " " You !" exclaimed the giant, recognizing him. " Yes : listen ! Yonder are the men who are hunting me down ! " The baronet rushdd on with his men, who uttered shouts of triumph. " Who be these ? " said Goliath. " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke and the revenue guard !" No sooner had Goliath heard Earle's reply than he drew a long knife. Ilis next proceed 1S6 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. ing was to utter a shrill and prolonged cry, re- sembling tlie scream of tlie sea-gull. At that cry, dusky shapes rushed toward him from every direction. The wolves had evident- ly recognized the signal, which meant, " One of the wolves is in danger ! 55 " You be safe, master," said Goliath. Earle drew his second pistol. u Go on, master ; where you be going? n " I am not going anywhere ! " As he spoke, the pursuers darted upon them. " Kill him ! " exclaimed the baronet, " and all who resist ! " As lie spoke he fired at Earle, and, riding at him, levelled a blow at him with his pistol, which was still smoking. The sailor parried it, and fired on the baronet, so close that the powder blackened his face. As tlie weapon was discharged, the horse ridden by the baronet took fright and wheeled. lie was not destined to bear off his rider, however, who had remained uninjured. One of the wolves caught the baronet by the throat and dragged him down. Then the fight surged over liim. Quick pistol-shots, cries, the revenue guards scattering and flying, hotly pursued, — such were the sounds and sights wlrieh greeted Sir THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 187 Murdangh as he rolled to the earth, ' 206 THE REVELATION. Earle pondered with knit brow for a moment " No father — but — it is astounding ! Ed- mond Earle not my father ? His name, then 1 his name ! Or rather let me see the register ! " The old priest said solemnly, — " Swear to me, that yon will not be corrupted by him, my son." " Corrupted?" " That you will not permit him to shake your faith in the Holy Church." " I swear it, father. I am a good Catholic^ and will die in the true faith ! Does that sat- isfy you ? My father's name now? " " Sir Murdaugh "Westbrooke." CHAPTER IV. THE DISCOVERY. AELE gave a violent start and turned bo pale that lie seemed about to faint. " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke ! " he gasped, — " that man my father ! " "Yes!" "Ton laugh at me, old man! My father was a French sailor, Edmond Earle, a bravo man and a good Catholic." "You are mistaken. Your father was an Englishman, and I am sorry to say a heretic, my son ! " " Good heavens ! " The old priest assumed an expression vhich Baid, — " It is melancholy, but true ! " Then he added in words, — " You doubtless have seen him ? " (307) SOS THE DISCOVERY. "Yes," said the sailor, in a low voice; his brows knit, his eyes fixed upon the carpet. " Without knowing of the relationship ? " " I never dreamed of it," said Earle, in tho same tone. Then rising suddenly, and losing sight appar- ently of the presence of the priest, he paced hurriedly up and down the room, exclaiming at intervals, — " That man my father ! — the husband of my mother, living there within sight of her; never acknowledging, or perhaps not knowing her! It is incredible, or it is infamous! That mur- derer whom I have just renounced! that man who has tracked, and hunted me to my death well-nigh ! that assassin, that infamous excres- cence of humanity, — this wretch my father! my own father ! " lie sank into a chair, and covered his face with both hands, llis breast shook, a deep sob tore its way from his lips, and scalding tears trickled between his fingers. The old priest went to him, and said socth- ic g ] 7 j — " Do not be so much moved, my son. No human being can control his fate. It is not your fault that you are this man's son. Dry your THE DISCOVERY. 209 tears ; seek consolation where alone it is to be found, and all will once more grow peaceful in your breast. Lift up your heart ! " The old man man raised his hand, and pointed toward heaven. Earle slowly inclined his head, and removed his hands. His face was wet with tears. " Enough, father," he said. "I was a child for a moment, but I am a man again." His face flushed. He rose to his feet. " Yes, a man ! and my mother shall not suf- fer!" « Your mother?" " She shall not be repudiated by that man ! I know him too well ; he has acted infamously, if he is my father ; he is bent on acting more in- famously still." " Tell me all, my son." "He designs marrying a second time; and even now may be perfecting that crime in epito of all I have done to destroy him ! " " You ! a second marriage ! Why that would be no marriage, since your mother still lives, you say. And you speak of attempting to des- troy him ! How is all this, my son ? " Earle grew calm, collected, and on his guard all at once. The old priest's foible was evidently 14 210 THE DISCOVERY. curiosity ; but tlie sailor did not wish to gratify this curiosity. A heavy weight was on his heart, and he saw that there was no time to lose if he meant to act. " I am in haste now, father," he said, " and must reserve my story for another occasion. At present I request that you will exhibit to me your register, and supply me with an attested copy of the marriage record of Marianne Earle and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. It i3 here — the register ? " " Yes, my son ; there upon the table." And the old priest approached the table, and opened the volume bound in black leather. "Another person has just visited me, on an errand similar to yours, my son. His object was to procure a copy, attested, of a certain birth entry. "WTiat you wish is further back. It ought to be here," he added, stopping as ho turned over the leaves. He examined the pages. " Strange !" he said. " I do not find it, and yet — " He looked at the paging of the volume. At a glance it was evident that one of the sheet* svas missing, since page 39 followed page 3G. " Can it be?" THE DISCOVERY. 211 A..d the priest examined the volume more closely. A sheet had been cut out. The nar- rc w strip remained indicating the theft. " It is incredible ! How was it possible ? Yes, yes 1 while I was absent ! That was a plan laid to remove me. Not a doubt of it ! " "What is the matter, father?" exclaimed Earle. "It is gone, my son. The entry of youi father and mother's marriage has been stolen !" " Stolen ! By whom ? " " By the man who was here an hour ago. " « The man— J" " An Englishman, as I conjectured from his accent. He had me sent for on a false errand ; remained here, and must have cut out this leaf." Earle gazed in astonishment at the book, and saw the narrow slip. "What interest could any one have in — " Suddenly he stopped. " An Englishman, did you say, father ? " " As I supposed, my son." " Ilis appearance ? " "A large man of great bulk and strength, though not tall. lie had a heavy black beard on his face, and wore an English d^eadnough f coat." 212 THE DISCOVERY. " It was Wilde ! " exclaimed Earle ; " and he was sent lather by his master. This proof of the marriage with my mother existed. He is bent on marrying again, and has abstracted it." He turned quickly, and seized his hat. " What route did the man take, father % " "I can tell you that, my son. lie went straight toward the coast." Earle hastened toward the door. "Farewell, father! I am going to pursue him. I have fifteen days' furlough ; this cloak will conceal my uniform. From this moment it is a struggle which of us shall reach England first. I will have that paper, or the life of the man who carries it on his person. If he arrives with it, all is lost ! If I come up with him all is saved. Farewell, father ! Your blessing. I go on a dangerous journey." And turning suddenly, the young man knelt on one knee. " Heaven bless and prosper you, my son ! " A moment afterwards Earle had disappeared. CHAPTER V. TUB BLOW OF THE WHIP. T the moment when Earle left Paris, on his way to Martigny, events of import- ance to the personages of this history were occurring in Pembrokeshire. Arthur Maverick was seated in his library, gloomily reflecting, when a servant entered and announced Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. A moment afterwards the baronet entered. Ilis brow was as black as night, and there was something venomous and yet apprehensive in the glance shot sidewise from his deep-set eyes. Arthur Maverick rose quickly. Ilis whole person seemed suddenly to have stiffened into Btone. "Your pleasure, sir!" ho said, in a voice (213) 214: THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. wliich was scarcely recognizable. " "What doea my father's murderer propose to himself ir coming to this house ? " The young man's expression was sick and scornful. It was plain that he tolerated the presence of the baronet only by a strong effort. " I came to speak of that/' was the low reply of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke; "to ascertain if I am to suffer in the estimation of yourself and the Misses Maverick from the testimony of a vagabond and the attack of a mad dog." Arthur looked at him fixedly. " IIow do you know that the vagabond testi- fied against you ? " he said. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was caught. " I thought as much. He is my enemy and has endevored to extort money from me. He made up the whole of this base charge. Tour father and myself never met after our quarrel on the race-course." " Not even when he bound you to a tree and lashed you ? " Sir Murdaugh quivered with rage at the Bcornful glance of the young man. " That is a lie, like the charge of murder. He never so outraged me." " i\nd you think I will believe you — you, the THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 215 convicted liar and murderer!" exclaimed the young man. " You suppose, then, that I am a baby — that because I have not arrested you, you will go free. Undeceive yourself. Your fate approaches. At the next assizes I lay an information against you, and the gallows shall avenge my father." Sir Murdaugh rose in tremendous wrath. " Then there are none but enemies here," he growled. " You have one friend at least," exclaimed a voice at the door, and Ellinor bounded into, rather than simply entered the apartment. " Yes ! " she cried, " there is one person who disbelieves this infamous fabrication, this slan- der based on the testimony of spies and vaga- bonds and dogs. My cousin there," and she scornfully pointed towards Authur, "may be- lieve as he chooses, and insult the guests in his own house to his heart's desire ; but I, at least, will not do that. I cling to — " "Your rich suitor, madam?" And with an expression of overpowering Bcorn, Arthur Maverick made his cousin a low bow. The contempt of his voice and expression seemed to sting the fair Ellinor into wild rage. 216 THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. "If I ana to be insulted, I will leave thia house. I am not homeless; Lady Worsham will protect me." " As you please, madam," said the young man, making her a second bow of profound cere- mony. " Tou are welcome here as long as you remain Miss Ellinor Maverick. If you design becoming Lady Westbrooke, the ceremony will not take place here." The young lady could scarce contain her rage at these words. "Very well, sir," she said, shooting a wrathful glance at her cousin ; " will you have the good- ness to order a carriage to take me to Lady Worsham's?" Arthur Maverick quietly rang a bell, and a servant entered. " The coach ! " he said. The servant disappeared. "I will not remain here an instant longer than is necessary, sir." And going out, the young lady banged the door violently after her. Sir Murdaugh had listened attentively. He had supposed his suit at an end forever. Now the unexpected turn of affairs showed him that he might derive enormous advantage from THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 217 JUlinor's continued adhesion to her engagement. Who would be brought to believe that he was a murderer, when Miss Maverick consented to be come Lady Westbrooke? Would the niece marry the murderer of her own uncle ? No one would believe that. It was with a sudden senti- ment of safety and triumph, therefore, that the baronet prepared to depart. " I will imitate Miss Maverick now, sir, and rid you of my f urthur presence here," he said, venomously. " Do to," said Arthur Maverick, " and beware how you return." " And you, sir, beware how you insult me," hissed the baronet. " Insult you ? You are not worth insult." " Beware!" " This is my reply to you." And seizing a riding-whip lying on the table near, the young man, in a wild rage at the pres- ence of his father's murderer, struck the baronet a furious blow across the face. In an instant they would have clutched each other ; but the door suddenly flew open. "The blood-hound, sir!" exclaimed a servant, rushing into the apartment. "What of the hound?" said Arthur Mav« 218 THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. erick, pale with passion, and quivering in every muscle. " There at the door, sir. He has gone mad, they say." In spite of himself, the baronet turned pale. " We meet again ! " he gasped, hoarsely, ad- dressing Arthur Maverick. " You have struck me, outraged me : you shall answer with your life. 55 And seeing that the way was clear, he hastened forth and mounted his horse. A mo- ment afterward, he was going down the avenue at full speed. Suddenly a hoarse and prolonged bay was heard in the grounds. Then a white object darted swiftly from a mass of shrubbery on hia track. The blood-hound had seen and was pursuing him. CHAPTER VL THE MAD DOG. HE baronet rode on at the fall speed of Lis horse. That deep and ominous bay had shown him his danger, and he had now a double reason to fear the blood-hound. Not only was the animal his sworn enemy as the murderer of Giles Maverick, — he was mad, and his bite was mortal^ no longer z* mere wound. Thus it was a race for life. As he went on at headlong speed, he heard the hound on his track. The dog had cleared the tall gate in the wall enclosing the grounds, at one leap ; had plainly descried the baronet going at full speed over the high-road ; and now, with hanging tongue, quick pants, and grinning mouth, he pursued (219) 220 THE MAD DOG. hiin at a pace which promised to put his enemy in his power in a few minutes. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was brave, but Lis heart sank within him as he drove his horse on. The hoarse bay of the mad hound rang in his ears like the trump of doom. Every instant he seemed to be gaining on his enemy in the wild race. Suddenly his horse, into whose sides he had driven the spur mercilessly, stumbled and half fell. With a curse, his rider dragged him up, and again struck the spur into him. But the instant thus lost was nearly fatal to the baronet. The hound reached him and sprung at his throat, his eyes glaring, his mouth slavering. But for the sudden grasp on the bridle, that moment would have been the baronet's last. The horse rose to his feet again, and the blood- hound missed his spring. The sharp teeth, in- stead of fixing themselves in the baronet's throat, clutched his riding boot. Death had grazed him thus, and he improved the incident promptly. With a blow from his clencted hand, cased in a heavy riding gauntlet, he t urled the hound THE MAD DOG. 221 from him. The animal rolled over on his back, and again the baronet went on headlong, intent on nothing now but escape. All at once, however, the ominous bay wa.3 again heard. With a sudden chill at his heart, he turned his head and looked back. The hound was once more pursuing him, more resolute and enraged than before. At that spectacle the murderer felt a pang of mortal fear. Despair clutched him, as he felt the venomous teeth would soon do. The image of the man whom he had assassinated rose and " shook his gory locks at him." In the agony of his soul he shouted, — " Help ! help ! that dog will murder me. Help!" Suddenly his horse shied violently. He had nearly ridden over a man in the road. This man was rudely clad, and shouted, — "What be the matter?" " The dog ! " gasped the baronet. And he looked over his shoulder. The mad blood-hound was within ten feet of him. " Ten guineas if you kill him ! " he gasped. As ho spoke, the hound sprung. But the man had understood, and met him. 222 THE MAD DOG. They clutched and rolled on the road, locked in a mortal hug. The baronet did not wait. He put spur to his horse and disappeared at headlong speed toward Westbrooke HalL lie was saved. An hour afterward one of the fraternity of wolves entered Oldport, with his breast covered with blood. The blood flowed from a deep wound in hia throat, which had swelled suddenly. When his brother wolves questioned him, he said he had met a man chased by a dog, the man . had offered him ten guineas to kill the dog, and he had killed him. Then the "wolf" ceased speaking, and began to snap at those around him. Two days afterwards he was attacked with convulsions, and four men were required to hold him. On the next day he was calmer, but suddenly drawing up his limbs, expired. The dead hound had been discovered on the road to Maverick Ilouse. The "wolf " had sue- THE MAD DOG. 223 ceeded in strangling him, but the mortal poison had been communicated. lie had died of the bite of the mad dog, in place of the baronet, and even the ten guineas were unpaid. CHAPTER VII. THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. HE wolves followed their dead companion to the grave, with solemn ceremony. The scene of sepulture was a wild spot on the very brink of the sea, and the fish- ermen had enclosed the space by piling up masses of rock, which from the channel resem- bled rough defences against cannon. Up the rugged path which led to this burial place they now bore the dead wolf, the rude coffin enclosing his remains carried on the shoulders of his brethren ; and reaching the wall, they lifted the coffin over, and carried it to the side of the grave. Then the ceremony of interring a member of the fraternity of the wolves began. No priest of any denomination was present, and there was Bomcthing heathenish in the strange rites. (224) THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 225 Hands were joined around the grave, the wolves circled it slowly, beating the ground with monotonous feet ; then a wild and melan- choly chant rose, and was carried away by the wind. This lasted for half an hour. Then the hands were unlocked and the coffin lowered into the grave amid deep murmurs. "Who is this we be a burying?" came in hoarse tones from the gigantic Goliath. " A wolf ! " was the muffled response from the voices of all present. Goliath extended his hand solemnly. " So mote it be ! " he thundered ; " and cursed be the man who moves the bones of a wolf I " As he spoke he took a handful of earth and threw it on the coffin. The men did likewise, each in turn, and the grave was speedily filled. Then the wild-looking figures joined hands and encircled the grave once more, beat the ground with their feet, and repeated their monotonous chant. It ended at last. They left the burial ground, and slowly wound down the hill toward the coast. As they disappeared, night descended, and the moon rose, throwing her pallid light on land and sea. 15 226 THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. Such had been the wolfs burial. An hour past midnight, and a figure leaped the wall, followed in a moment by another. The moon revealed the faces of these men, who carried picks and spades. They were the two rough personages whom Earle and the gypsy had encountered that night bearing the corpse into Westbrooke Hall. " This is the place, mate," said one of them ; " it is easily found." " By the fresh earth — you are right." " And now to work ; this job is dangerous." " Dangerous ? " " This is one of the wolves, and I'm told they are sworn to put a knife into whoever disturbs one of 'em." " Ough ! I never heard that." " It makes the job worth five guineas more." u Exactly." And without further words they proceeded vigorously to work. In an hour the coffin responded to the blow of the pick. " Take care, mate ! " said one, as the dull Bound was heard. "Right." And proceeding more carefully, they soon THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 227 unearthed the long box without noise, and wrenching off the lid, dragged forth the dead body. "lie's a rough-looking one," muttered the man who lifted the corpse, " and his neck is all swollen," " On account of the dog." " Hurry up, mate." And laying the body on the earth, they pro- ceeded rapidly to fill up the grave again. This was soon accomplished, and they then lifted the body over the fence, and bore it on their shoulders down the rough path leading toward the interior. In a clump of bushes a small vehicle was waiting. Into this they pushed the corpse as if it were the body of an animal. " Come on, mate ; I don't like this job. Seems to me they are a watching of us." And the speaker hastily got into the wagon. The other followed, and in a business like way took his seat on the corpse. Then the single horse was whipped up, the vehicle rolled away, and night swallowed it. The grave of the wolf had been rifled. Would the curse descend ? CHAPTER VHL THE CHASE. T was the night succeeding these events. Darkness and storm had rushed down simultaneously on the coast of Pem- brokeshire. The surges of St. George's Channel, lashed to fury by the breath of a veritable hurricane, broke in thunder on the jagged reefs and ledges of rock jutting from the water, and died away in the cavernous recesses beneath the great headland near Oldport, like the hoarse bellowing of bulls, or the dull boom of artillery. The coast was absolutely deserted. Scarce a light glimmered in Oldport. On the head- land, no beacon light warned barks off the pe:> ilous reef. The light of the blood-red moon (228) THE CHASE. 229 alone, shining through, a rift in die black clouds, toward the east, contended with the ebon darkness, and revealed, in their full hor- ror, the foam-capped reefs. All at once a sail-boat might have been seen darting toward land. It was a vessel of the smallest size, and careened terribly under the great pressure of canvas. Clinging to the single mast was a man wrapped in a dreadnought, and with his hand in his breast. Three other men were on the bark, but they were crouching, pale and sullen. " We'll all go to the bottom ! " said one of the men, who seemed to be the owner of the boat. "You are paid!" was the gruff reply of Wilde — for he it was who stood erect, clinging to the mast. " What's pay if we go down ? " said the sullen one. "But we wont!" " Look at that reef ! Down with the helm ! n And he started to his feet. The vessel grazed a grinning reef, scraped, and darted on. She was a mere cork — the winds drove her like a dry leaf of autumn c re* the foaming waves. 230 7 HE CHASE. " If I only arrive/' muttered Wilde, " I have my fortune here ! 55 And he clutched a package in his breast, — the pocket-book containing the stolen leaf from the register at Martigny. "Look ! " suddenly shouted the skipper of the vessel. " There is that devilish craft following us still ! " And he pointed to a sail-boat similar to his own, which was darting towards them. "Wilde uttered a curse. "I thought you had got away from her!" " I thought so too ! But there she is, — fol- lowed us all the way from the coast of France ! " And, knitting his brows, he muttered, — " A sailor is on board of her ! I believe I'll throw this Englishman overboard, and strike to the craft that's been pursuing us ! " Wilde heard the muttered words, and drew a long knife from beneath his coat. " Death to the man who touches me ! " he growled, with the accent and manner of a wild animal. " And death to the man who is running us on these reefs to go to the bottom ! " As he spoke, the Frenchman drew a knife m THE CHASE. 231 liis turn, his companions exactly imitated hinij and they rushed straight on Wilde. It was too late. Before they had reached him where he stood, clinging with his left hand to the mast, a crash like thunder was heard, the bark staggered, and reeled backward. She had run right on a reef t and two of the frenchmen were hurled over- board. As they disappeared, a single cry cut the darkness like a steel blade. An instant after- wards the heads were engulfed and the men dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks. The third Frenchman uttered a shout of rage, and struck at Wilde. As he did so, his foot slipped. An instant afterwards Wilde had seized him and hurled him into the sea. The craft grated with harsh thunder on the rocks, and then darted ahead. The momentary arrest of her progress had, however, given her pursuers time to gain upon her. As she drove on now, the craft following hovered above her, on the summit of a gigantic wave — and in the prow a man, wrappe I in a cloak, gazed eagerly toward her. 232 THE CHASE. " She struck, Captain ! " - said me fcf the men, " and look ! — again ! " In fact, the sail-boat containing "Wilde, had rushed straight on a still more dangerous reef. It finished her. The sharp teeth tore her hull to shreds — she burst in two, and her mast sunk, dragging the sail like the wing of a wounded sea-bird. Wilde was thrown into the water, and struck out powerfully for the strand, now not two hundred yards distant. "He will escape ! " cried the man in the boat in pursuit. And without a moment's hesitation he threw off his cloak, and plunged into the boiling waves. Then a tremendous contest took place be- tween the adversaries. On one side was enor- mous strength and great skill as a a swimmer ; on the other, equal skill, if not so much strength, and a burning resolve to reach the man he was in pursuit of, or die. The wind howled ; the waves struck them ; the moon was blotted out ; all was darkness. Still Wilde darted on, pursued by Earle. CHAPTER IX. THE MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. HILE these events were occurring cn the storin-lashed coast of St. George's Channel, a sombre scene might have been witnessed at Westbrooke Hall. In an apartment of the mansion, furnished with only two or three chairs and a long pine table, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, clad in his old dressing-gown, with the sleeves rolled up, was dissecting a dead body. The corpse was that of the " wolf," carried off from the lonely spot near the sea ; and at the door stood one of the rough persons who had effected the robbery of the grave, thus pro- viding the "subject" which the baronet was engaged in dissecting. Sir Murdaugh, with animated nj/weuient^ (233) 234 MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. and an expression of horrible avidity in his eyes, cut away at the body: the man gazed at him with interest and a curiosity which was plain in his expression. All at once the baronet turned, bloody scalpel in hand, and grinned. His yellow tusks pro- truded frightfully thereupon, and, to speak plainly, he was extremely hideous. "Gubbs!" he said. The man thus addressed returned, — "Your honor?" " This seems a strange way of amusing my- self, Gubbs?" As the words were uttered in the tone of an inquiry, the man said, — " Yes, your honor." The baronet grinned again. The occupation in which he was engaged always put him in a good humor. To see the flesh of his dead sub- jects divide at the application of the knife, almost invariably communicated a singular and repulsive cheerfulness to the baronet's expression. " You wonder, I suppose, Gubbs," he said, "why I dissect. Well, suppose I tell you. It is simple, and easily explained. When I was a young man, I acquired a taste for surgery ia MYSTERY OP THE DEAD BODIES. 235 the great hospitals of Paris. I was poor — was then simple Murdaugh Westbrooke; studied surgery. Afterwards I had no occasion to enter the fraternity of leg and arm cutters ; but I was as fond as ever of this — 1 am fond of it £ till ; and so I amuse myself, you see, Gubbs, in this highly scientific manner." The tusks became the most prominent features in the baronet's face as he spoke. His yellow teeth came out too, jagged and awry ; his eyes, bloodshot but glittering with pleasure, rolled in their cavernous sockets. " Other men like wine and cards and women," said the baronet, plunging his knife into the body, — "I like this ! " And with a keen stroke, he cut into the sub- ject, making a clear circular incision which nearly divided it. " Every man to his taste ! this is mine." And he eagerly repeated the stroke. As he did so, the knife slipped, and inflicted a slight wound upon his hand. " Take care, your honor, " said the man, " Pve licarn that was dangerous." "What?" " To cut yourself while yc u were carving away at one of them." 236 MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. And lie pointed to the body. . " True, it is sometimes. But a little »v*.tei will prevent danger." And going to a basin he washed his handa and looked at it. The knife had punctured the palm and blood exuded. " An ugly scratch ! " he muttered, " but no harm can come of it now." As he spoke, he bound a handkerchief around the hand, and returned to his work. "Anything further to do, to-night, your hon or ? " said the man. "Nothing, but come back to-morrow." All at once hurried steps were heard, and the door was thrown open. As it flew back, Wilde rushed in ; his face flushed, his eyes sparkling, his clothes wet and dripping. " You have it ! " exclaimed the baronet. " Yes, your honor, — but I am nearly dead, lie — that one — pursued me ; both boats were wrecked on the reef yonder. I swam ashore, he after me, — he clutched me just as I touched land. I stabbed him, and got off in the dark," The baronet had scarcely listened. " The paper t " lie exclaimed. MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 23? * Here it is, your honor." And Wilde drew forth the leaf which he had stolen from the register, — the proof of Sir Murdaugh's marriage with Marianne Earle. CHAPTER X. THE DEN OF THE WOLF. ILDE had accurately narrated what had taken place between lumself and Earle. The sailor by almost superhuman ef- forts had succeeded in coming up with his opponent just as Wilde emerged half dead with cold and exhaustion from the blinding surf ; had grappled with him, intent alone on arresting his further progress ; and the power- ful gamekeeper thus assailed by his mortal foe, had just strength enough to draw his knife and strike at Earle as the latter clutched him. The knife passed through the fleshy part of the sailor's arm, and inflicted a painful wound. It was far from disabling him however, and it was the darkness alone which saved Wilde. He tore away from Earle as he struck, push- (208) THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 239 ing back his opponent as he did so ; then, with a single bound, he disappeared in the gloom, running rapidly over the sandy shore, which gave back no sound, and enabled him to evado his pursuer. Earle had rushed after him, but all was in vain. Wilde had vanished, and no sound indi- cated the direction in which he had gone. In ten minutes the sailor gave up the pursuit, and stopped, panting and nearly exhausted from the blood which he had lost from his wound. He looked around him. All was dark. A few lights glimmered in the village of Oldport. lie dared not venture there in his full uniform of a captain in the French navy ; and looking for the bark which had brought him, he could nowhere discover it. "One thing only is left," he muttered, — "to go to my mother." And traversing the surge-lashed shore, along the edge of the water, he reached the narrow path running along the ledge of rocks — then that which wound up the preipice to the hut of the recluse. No one but a sailor, sure-footed and accus- toned to work with hands and feet in tl o dark, could have found his way safely up the dizzy c 240 THE DEN OF THE WJLF. path toward the summit. Moje than once he passed near the very brink of the precipice; a step out of the pathway, would have hurled him a thousand feet down into the boiling abyss. But he went on safely. No chamois could have traversed the narrow way more rapidly and surely. Soon he reached the last and most dangerous point ; passed it ; reached the summit, and hastened to the hut of the recluse. No light was visible. The spot seemed de- serted. Earle struck the door with his clenched hand. It flew open, but within all was darkness and silence. He entered. A strange sinking of the heart suddenly assailed him. Where was his moth- er ? "Why this darkness and silence, instead of her smile and warm greeting ? He went toward the narrow bed, and felt for his mother there. She might be asleep. The bed was vacant. The cold pillow was round and unpressed. She was gone ! Earle sat down, faint in body and mind. A sombre foreboding siezed upon him. What wa* the origin of this absenco I THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 241 Suddenly he rose with a hoarse cry. " That man ! — that wretch ! He has proba- bly murdered her! He has discovered her! He came here, I now remember, in search of me ! He sent to France to steal that proof of his marriage ! He has secured both obstacles to his new marriage, — the record, and the per- son of the first wife ! " Earle pressed both hands to his forehead, and staggered. "What should he do ? With weak and uncertain steps, but a will excitement in his breast, he tottered out of the hut, went toward the precipice, traversed the dizzy brink with the instinct of a blind man, de- scended the path, reached the shore, then, scarce knowing what he did, he staggered od toward the village. All at once there rose before him in the dark ness a weird-looking object. It was the hull of a wrecked vessel, turned upward and fitted up as a rude dwelling. A ray of moonlight as red as blood enabled him to make out its surroundings. These were nets, an old anchor, a coil of rope, and an old buoy. The door was a hole scarce large enough for a man to crawl into. It was open now, and Earle 16 242 THE DEN OF THE WOLF. saw crouching over a few embers, a gij^ntic figure. Something in this figure struck him as famil- iar. He tottered forward and looked in. The figure raised its head. By the glimmer of the embers Earle recognized Goliath. The next moment he staggered to the door way, uttered a low cry, and fell forward intc the arms of the chief of the wolves, who had recognized him, and drew him into his rude dwelling, radiant with joy at his return. " Tou be come up out of the foam, master ! * Earle tried to reply, but fainted. CHAPTER XI KIDNAPPED. N an upper room of Westbrooko Hall, difficult of access, and almost unsuspect- ed, so carefully was it concealed by jut- ting gables and angles, sat the recluse whom we left in her hut on the headland, when Earle set out for Maverick House. Two days before, she had been kidnapped. This was very simply effected. The man Gubbs, in the absence of Wilde, the baronet's factotum, undertook the affair, went thither af- ter midnight, simply seized and gagged the sol- itary woman, forced her to enter a light car- riage, and then drove off swiftly through wood- land by-roads to Westbrooko Hall, which they reached before daylight. The recluse was then conducted to the apart* (243) 244 KIDNAPPED. ment which we have spoken of above ; the doof was locked upon her ; she was left to her reflec tions ; and, whilst still engaged in this occupa- tion, Sir Murdaugh had entered. "Welcome to Westbrooke Hall, your lady- ship ! " was his ironical greeting. 66 Can I do aught to render your sojourn here more agree- able ? If the servants exhibit any neglect, pray inform me of the fact, Charmed to see you, my dear madam, — really charmed, upon my word ! " The recluse looked at him coldiy. There was not a particle of nervous trepidation in h£r expression. " You do not reply, my lady. Pray honor me with a few words: your voice invariably charms me." " I do not reply because I hav<* none to make, sir," said the woman, with entire calmness. " What response is necessary to an outrage like this?" " An outrage, madam ? " "Is it not an outrage to send a wretch in your pay to seize an unprotected woman and to drag her off thus to a place of conceal* ment ? " u Well, it is irregular." KIDNAPPED. 245 The baronet grinned and was evidently enjoy- ing himself. " Your object?" " Well, shall I be frank with you, madam ? " " If you can." "Shall I tell you my first plan, or my second ? " "Speak!" "First, I thought I would — well, would— murder you, my dear madam. That is an ugly word, but you may retort that it suits me. Per- haps it does. I am not a beauty, and my life, tried by a strictly moral standard, may not be beautiful morally. Yes! I thought I would get rid of you." "Why have you not done bo, then?" was the cold inquiry. The baronet's face grew dark. " It is not too late," he said in a threatening tone ; " beware how you defy me." " Defy you ? Do you suppose I am afraid of you? No! do as you will. Yes! I do defy you." And the woman rose to her full height. "I never feared you," she said, looking at him with superb scorn in her eyes. "I fled from you to rescue a child from your poisonous 246 KIDNAPPED. association. That cliild is safe from you now You cannot harm him, for he knows you. Afl to me, what care 1^ think you ? Nothing." And she sat down again. The baronet scowled at her with sudden wrath. Then this changed to a sneer. " Good, good ! " he said ; " the same spirit that used to blaze out in Marianne Earle, twenty years ago. Ah ! you look at me with your fine disdain. You would say that I provoked you then. Well, so be it ; let that go. I am here to speak of the present and future — your future. I will do so very briefly, madam. I brought you here intending to get rid of you, if necessary. It is not necessary. I will simply send you to St. Domingo. My good servitor, Wilde, who is known to you, will accompany your ladyship. He is absent now on important business, but will soon return. Then I will call on madam again." And sneering, he went out abruptly. CHAPTER XIL MASTER AND MAN. UCII were the events which had occurred during the brief absence of Earle and Wilde. We left the baronet and this latter worthy in the apartment containing the corpse, the eyes of Sir Murdaugh fixed joyfully on the paper which Wilde had brought him. "At last I have it," he exclaimed. "From this moment I am safe." Wilde glanced sidewise at the man, Gubbs, and the baronet nodded. "You can go now," he said to the man, who at once left the apartment. "And now to business, Wilde," added the baronet. "Much has been done in your ab- sence." ©47) 248 MASTER AND MAN. "What, your honor?" " That woman is here, a prisoner in this house But, before I speak further of this, tell, me all about your journey " That I will do in few words, sir." And Wilde narrated every thing, concluding with the scene which had occurred on the beach. "That man is an incarnate devil," growled the baronet. " He is ever on my track. Not content with denouncing me as a murderer, he is now here again to thwart and endanger me." " There is but one thing left your honor," said Wilde in a low tone. The baronet looked at him intently. " I understand you — yes," he said. Compact of murder was never made more clearly in fewer words. But the baronet seemed determined that there should he no doubt whatever. " That man must die, W ilde ; no mincing of words. We have gone too far to recede." The words were uttered in a whisper. " The tiling is plain, sir," was the reply in the same tone ; " while he is alive, you are in dan- ger, to say nothing of me. I don't intend to rest. Give your orders, sir. They uhall be obeyed." MASTER AND MAN. 249 The baronet sat down, and gazed at the floor. "Where is he?" he said suddenly; "since you stabbed him, he must be near Oldport Was the wound dangerous ? " " Only in the flesh of the arm." "That is nothing! Act promptly. Go and look for him to-night! This is all the more neeessary, as he will come quickly to look for us!" " I understand, sir." " She is here ! He will be on our track, since he must suspect me of the abduction." Wilde buttoned up his wet coat. " I w r ill take Gubbs, and hunt him to-night, sir." " Do so, and return before daylight. Things are hurrying in many ways, Wilde. Listen ! I am to be married in eight days. In three days that woman must be out of England. If in twenty-four hours he is dead we are safe, and you will have earned one thousand pounds. If he lives — the gallows — ! I am rich and in- fluential, and may escape. You are poor and nobody — you will hang! Go, now! You may find him in some corner, fainting and weak from loss of blood. You are a man of decision; you will not neglect that chance. 250 MASTER AND MAN". Go, go ! His death secures everything. Whilst he lives, — listen, Wilde, — the halter is around your neck ! " " And yours ! " muttered the Hercules aa ho hastened from the apartment. CHAPTEE XIIX. A TIGRESS. tS Wilde disappeared, the baronet fixed his eyes with avidity upon the paper in his hand. " The actual entry ! " he muttered ; " Murdaugh Westbrooke to Marianne Earle, Martigny, April 17 — , signed by Father Am- brose ; all in due form ! Decidedly, Wilde is a cool hand, and has effected all I hoped for. Now to action! But first to enjoy my little treat !" He went out quickly, and ascending the broad staircase, took a key from his yocket and opened a door. Before him, in a bare apart- ment, sat the recluse, pale but calm. "I have come to call on you, madam," he e^id, grinning. (351) 252 A TIGRESS. The recluse coldly inclined her head. " I have an interesting communication to make, madam." The recluse gazed at him intently, but mado nu reply. ''Your ladyship is silent this evening, but no matter. I will talk myself. And first, I beg to call your ladyship's attention to the fact that this is the record of our marriage in the tillage of Martigny — brought for my private perusal by our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Wilde." The baronet watched her closely. At these words she turned suddenly pale. "Doubtless a copy, sir!" she said, coldly, but with a sudden, eager glance. The baronet burst out laughing. It was a sombre and ghastly sound. " A copy t By no means, madam. The orig- inal paper ! I was too intelligent to care for a copy. I wished to feast my eyes upon the sole and only evidence of our connubial bliss! What cared I for a copy? What I wanted was the actual sheet from the record, signed by the priest : here it is ; and from thia moment there is no proof whate\er of our mar* riage." A TIGRESS. 253 The recluse was pale, but her calmness had returned. "So you are bent on destroying all proof that I am Lady Westbrooke ? " The baronet bowed and said ironically, — " Madam is intelligent." " You design marrying again ? " " I do, madam." " To commit bigamy % " " There is no bigamy where proof does not exist of a former marriage." The ^recluse made no reply. With her eyes fixed intently upon the baronet, she seemed to listen coldly. " Why make so much ado, my dear madam," he said, with a sombre grin. " Are we so much devoted to each other that we cannot bear to ignore that former union ? Was it of hearts — or hands only ? I think it was merely the hand. Well, I count that a sin. I design to unite my- self now to a young creature who loves me ? " No reply came from the recluse. The bar- onet went on : — "Shall I tell you of my little affair? The fair one is called Ellinor Maverick. She is ex- ceedingly handsome — much more handsome, I must say, than you ever were ; and she marries 254 A TIGRESS. me in defiance of the whole respectable "Maver ick family." The recluse had never removed her eyea from the face of the baronet. " Does she know that you have one wife liv ing ? " she said, calmly. The words brought to the baronet's face the eternal grin. "I must confess she does not, madam 1 She is a tender lamb led to the slaughter. I am a monster, you perhaps think, and I confess I am not a saint. Bnt in this case the lamb is tough ! Miss Maverick weds me for my estate, not from the sympathetic impulse of her maiden heart ! She calculates — she does not gush out ! I am Sir Ten Thousand a Year, rather than Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke; and a few little charges which have been brought against me have had no influence on the sweet charmer — she is still determined to marry me." "And you will ruin this young woman be- cause she is worldly and ambitious ? " " Ruin her, madam ? not at all ? How shall I ruin her ? " The recluse pointed coldly toward the paper in his hand. " Still harping upon this I" Ihe baronet Baid A TIGRESS. 255 with a grin. " I will show you how I remove that little difficulty in the simplest manner, madam ? " He caught the paper with both hands, and was about to tear it in pieces. "Forbear!" cried the recluse, suddenly ris- ing and confronting him. " Forbear what ? " he growled. "From the commission of the crime you meditate ! " his companion said, with flushed cheeks. "It is your soul's salvation you im- peril! I do not speak of the offence against < law ! Think ; unhappy old man ! — for you are old now, as I am, — think, God has for- oidden this. You sin wilfully against his com- mandments ! Stop now, on the threshold ! — repent ! — a poor sinner urges that ! Abandon this scheme ! — remember that your lawful wife still lives! — Give me the paper!" And before he divined her intention, she grasped the paper and tore it from hirn The baronet uttered an enraged cry and said, — " Beware ! — give me back that writing ! " " It is mine equally — since it is the record of my marriage ! " she exclaimed, recoiling, and thrusting the paper into her bosom. 256 A TIGRESS. " Gire me the writing !" And lie seized her by the wrist, with a grasp of iron. " Release rue, sir ! n " Give me the paper ! " " I will not!" He seized her by the throat. " The paper — or you are dead ! 99 The hand grasped the white throat more furiously, ft Kill me, then ! — yon may take it from my dead body — I will never surrender it!" He tore open her dress, and drew the paper from its hiding-place. " Coward ! " she exclaimed, as he did so ; u wretch, to outrage me thus ! — to lay tho hand of violence where you once laid your head ! Oh ! I could tear the very flesh which was so profaned once ! — coward ! " And with flaming eyes she confronted him, — eyes full of superb wrath. " Insult, outrage, murder me if you will ! n she cried, in her rage and scorn. " There ifl one person who is safe from you — your child ! — whom you aimed to murder ! un- natural and monstrous ! Of what race do you A TIGRESS. 257 come ? You would slay your own child ! — but he at least is safe from you ! " The baronet had retreated a step as she con- fronted him with blazing eyes. In spite of himself, he shrunk before the scorn of his companion. Now, however, his sneer returned — the ghastly grin distorted his ugly mouth. " Ah ! you think that whelp is safe, do you, madam? You are mistaken. Wilde stabbed him to-night ! " " You lie — he is in France ! " "I do not lie, madam — he is in Pem- brokeshire." The woman looked at him ; as she did so the flush died out of her cheeks. "Where is he?" " I will not tell you ! " She trembled. " For pity's sake ! " And suddenly submissive she clasped her hands. "Do not harm him! He has not wronged you ! Why do you thus hate him ? " " Because he hates me, and will destroy me — if I do not destroy him ! Cease your prayers, then — they are vain ! His doom is sealed - Wilde is now tracking him 1 n 17 258 A TIGRESS. "That wretch? Oh, it is infamous! JEU will murder him ! Let me go and save him ! " The baronet thrust her back violently, and went toward the door. " It is too late ! he is doomed I " And he reached the door and opened it. Suddenly the woman threw herself upon him, and seized his throat with both hands. " Give me my child ! " she cried, with the rage of a tigress robbed of her young. His reply was to hurl her from him, and she fell at full length on the floor. A moment afterwards the baronet had passed through the door and closed and locked it. As the key turned in the lock, the door shook under the grasp of the poor mother. " My child ! my child ! Give me my child ! " she moaned, shaking the door. A laugh replied ; and the baronet's footsteps receded. A moment afterwards a body feL heavily in the apartment which he had left. The recluse had fainted. CHAPTER XIV. THE INTRUDER. IE MUEDAUGII WESTBROOKE de- scended to his sitting-room. The grin had disappeared from his lips and there was no longer the former expression of hideous triumph in his eyes. He sat down, and gazed for fully a quarter of an hour into the fire, which was dying down now. " How will this end ? " he muttered. " I am knee-deep in blood, and am going in waist- deep! Am I then a wretch unable to with- hold myself from crime? Why do I venture on this marriage. Why do I plan that boy's destruction? Is the Devil my prompter? Doubtless, since he has just made me outi-age (259) 260 THE INTRUDER. a woman — cut her to the heart — inflict pel Bonal violence upon her ! " lie knit his brow, and his lips writhed. "lama lost soul, I think I " And he rose to his feet. " She cowed me yonder to-night when — yes, 1 was a coward to outrage that bosom ! It was Marianne Earle's once — I loved her — have never loved any one else! Yes, yes, I was a coward ! And I aim to prove myself a worse coward still ! " He looked at the paper which he held in his hand. "Marianne Earle, Martigny, April 17, seemed burnt in flame upon it. " She was beautiful then I — the only dream of my life ! " he muttered. I loved her — could have died for her — for six months!" he added, with a cruel sneer. And leaning against the tall carved mantel- piece, he pondered, his face gradually growing dark. " No ! it is too late to recede — and to defy that boy Arthur is delicious ! This marriage is necessary — it removes suspicion ! It ties theii hands, for I will be the husband of Ellinor Mav- erick, their own blood ! Then — then, with this woman and that other enemy gotten rid of THE INTRUDER. 261 — with no fears any longer, and the failing health of the Viscount Cecil tc count cn - !" He slowly tore the paper in pieces and threw into the fire. "The die is cast!" he muttered; " my senti- mental mood is over! Sentiment for me! I was an innocent man once, now 1 am what? What have I to do with sentiment f Can the wolf that is hunted find time to snivel and wipe his eyes ? Away with such imbecility ! I am a man again, and will' ride over all enemies. Aid me, Devil ! if there be a Devil ! " And, with a face distorted into a hideous grin, the baronet took from the table the only light in the apartment, slowly crossed the drawing- room, opened and passed through the door, and then his steps were heard slowly ascending the staircase. Ten minutes after fiis disappearance, a slight sound might have been he,ard at the rear win- dow. This window opened, as the reader will remember, directly on the park ; and for more than a half an hour a man standing on the ledge beneath it had been watching the baronet, his eyes on a level with the window-sill. As the figure of the baronet disappeared now i 262 THE INTRUDER. a dusky arm suddenly rose from without. As the arm rose, the moon came out, and revealed a man's head and shoulders above the sill. Then the hand stealthily passed through a broken pane in the window — the bolt was silently shot back — a moment afterwards the sash was raised — and, silent as a shadow, the man stood in the room. It was the gypsy : his countenance expressed mingled curiosity and apprehension. The swarthy face was plain in a vagrant gleam from the dying fire, and toward the fire he now moved with a cautious and stealthy step. " That paper ! — why did he look at it so closely — and then tear it?" muttered the gypsy. " I see it is not burned — only one of the pieces is destroyed ! ' He stooped and raised the fragments, joining them together, and closely scanning them. " Murdaugh "Westbrooke — Marianne Earle ; Martigny. Why this is a marriage record ! " he murmured. " And to think that the good Sir Murdaugh has already been married ! " He looked again at the paper. The name of the woman seemed to strike him for the first time. "Marianne Earle!" he said, knitting his THE INTRUDER. 203 brows, and evidently lost in reflection, " Mari- anne Earle! Earle! — there is some mystery here ! " And his quick mind went back to his associa- tion with the sailor. Twice he had heard Earle repeat his own name, — once when carrying off the viscount, in reply to a question from the nobleman, and again during the interview with Arthur Maverick on the night of his escape. " Earle ! " he muttered ; " this baronet married Marianne Earle, then ! Who was she ? was she related to him — my brother of the Rommanye Eye?" His eyes distended suddenly. The vaga- bond's enormous acuteness had placed him on the track of the mystery. The woman on the headland was Earle's mother. He had divined that when he went to warn Earle on that last night of his stay in Pembrokeshire. "Alia! Here is something!" he muttered. " It will pay better even than my knowledge of the murderer of Giles Maverick ! I am lucky ! I came for the baronet's silver : I find out something far more valuable than silver, 1 think." And folding up the pieces of paper, he placed them carefully in his ragged pocket* 264 THE INTRUDER. 1 ien lie looked around warily. There wai no silver of any description visible. " The skinflint ! 55 he muttered, with a grim- ace; "not to leave a spoon, even, for a poor gypsy ! " With stealthy steps he went toward the door which opened on the hall. Not a sound waa heard in the funereal mansion but the measured ticking of an enormous clock, which rose, ghost- like, in the corner of the hall. " Shall I venture farther ? It is dangerous, but I will try it. I may find something," he muttered. The gypsy placed his foot upon the staircase. In the darkness he had not seen the door lead- ing into the room containing the corpse. The terrible odor, however, filled the air, and for an instant his heart failed him. "What devilish smell is that?" he mur- mured. "I had best get out of this place." He turned to go back, but at that moment a stifled groan reached his ears. It died away, then was repetead, then died away again. The gypsy was even more curious, by nature, than cautious of his personal safety. The muffled sounds roused his. curios' iy to the highest pitch. THE INTRUDER. 265 " Something horrible is going on here ! " he eaid, in a low voice. " Shall I try to find what it means? I can gain the window again in two minutes, and neither Wilde nor his hounds are here to follow me ! " He placed his foot once jaore on the stair: the solid oak did not creak. The second step was as firm ; and, rapid and noiseless as a cat, the gypsy reached the second floor. As he did so the groans were again heard, apparently from an apartment at the end of a dark side passage. The moonlight half -illu- mined the corridor ; he stealthily glided toward the sound. It grew plainer as he advanced. He reached the door from behind which it issued, and, stooping down, applied his eye to the keyhole in which the key had been left. I What he saw made him hold his breath for ■ a moment. I A woman, clad in a dark dress, was kneeling and praying, with clasped hands, and eyes raised to heaven. A ray of moonlight fell upon her face. The gypsy recognized the ; mother of Earle. For a moment his heart stood still. A vague idea of the truth came to him. The woman 266 THE INTRUDER. was a prisoner — Earle's mother. Was she the Marianne Earle of the marriage record ? The gypsy's face flushed hot, and, turning his head, he listened. The stifled groans were only heard as the poor woman prayed. "Now, or never, if I mean to act as his friend ! " he said to himself. And silently unlocking the door, he stood be- fore the woman. She uttered a low exclamation, and shrunk back as he approached. " Hush ! " he whispered, " I am a friend, — - 1 will take you to your son. Listen ! His name is Edraond Earle. It was I who came to warn him, you remember, of the baronet's pursuit of him. I understand all. You are a prisoner here. Come with me and make no noise." She had listened with a nervous tremor in her frame, but this suddenly ceased. " Yes, yes, I feel that you are a friend. Let us hasten to leave this place." " Come, then!" And the gypsy rapidly led the way from the room to the corridor. " Make haste now ! " he whispered. u The baronet has not yet retired. There is his chain- THE INTRUDER. 287 ber. See the glimmer of the light through the keyhole!" Suddenly the voice of the baronet cried, — " Who is there ? Who is stirring ? " u Run ! Make haste down the stairs ! " ex- claimed the gypsy. And he pushed the woman toward the stair- case. Her foot had scarce touched the top step when Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke's door opened violently. " Who is there ? " he shouted, raising a heavy pistol, cocked and ready. The gypsy's reply was prompt. He threw himself upon the baronet and hurled him back, knocking up the weapon just as the re- port of the pistol rang out. A moment afterwards he had wrenched it from the baronet, and dealt kmi a heavy blow in the face. Then he gained the door at one bound ; closed it violently and turned the key in the lock ; hastily descended the stairs ; and taking the woman by the arm, drew her quickly to the window, through which he as- sisted her to pass, just as the sleepy and frightened servants rushed in to find the mean ing of the pistol-shot 268 THE INTRUDER. Once in the park, the gypsy cried, — "To the woods I to the woods!" "But my son! where is my sonl" " He is in France." " God be thanked ! " she exclaimed. " Then that wretch wilfully lied ! He id safe! Then all is well." And she followed the gypsy., who hastened on. In ten minutes the shadows of the forest had swallowed the two figures. CHAPTER XV. THE RIFLED GRAVE. E left Earle in the den of the chief of the wolves. "Tou be come up out of the foam, master!" the gigantic Goliath had ex- claimed ; whereupon, overcome by weakness from the wound in his arm, and exhaustion, Earle had fainted. When he opened his eyes the giant was bending over and bandaging his arm. He performed this office with rough tenderness, and as the young man looked up, said, in gut- tural tones, — "You be safe here, master ! " " Ah ! " murmured Earle. "You be French — the flag you run out when they fired on you told that ; but French (2G9) 270 THE RIFLED GRAVE. or no French, you be a wolf, and you be safe here." Earle quietly extended his hand and grasped the huge paw of the wolf. " Thanks ! " he said. " Yes, I need a refuge, and your help ! " "My help?" "The help of the wolves, perchance — the whole fraternity. I will tell you more of that." And rising slowly to his feet, he looked through the low port-hole serving as a window, and said, — " Is it near daylight, brother % " The reply of the wolf was, that it was scarce midnight. " Then I will sleep : wake me at daylight ! " said Earle. And stretching himself before the fire, he fell asleep almost instantly. The giant gazed at him for some moments with a strange expression of solicitude on his face; sat down on a rough stool, having first hung an old blanket before the door; and soon the nods of his huge head indicated that he too slumbered. It was long hours after midnight, when all at once the gigantic Goliath stirred and mut- THE RIFLED GRAVE. 271 tercd in his sleep. The vague sense ctf im- pending peril seemed to render him uneasy. Suddenly the influence appeared to master him, and he rose quickly, and went to the door. As he did so, two shadows which had hov- ered near the port-hole window, shrunk back into the darkness behind the overturned hull, and all was quiet. Goliath muttered some guttural words, shook his head, and returned to his stool. With a glance at Earle, on whose face the glimmering light of the embers fell, he kicked the brands together, wrapped an old pea-jacket around him, and in a few minutes was nodding, sound asleep, beside his companion. For half an hour nearly, the silence remained unbroken save by the whistle of the wind, and the long roll of the surf, falling with monotonous beat upon the sands. Then cautious steps might have been heard — two figures em- erged from the shadows of the hull, and one of these figures, placir g his eye at a crevice, mufc» tered, — " It is our man I " For more than a minute he remained silent and motionless, with his hand extended warn* ingly toward his companion behind him. 272 THE KIb LED GRA VE. Then lie drew a pistol from his breast, aixl directed the muzzle toward Earle. His companion pulled him back almost vio- lently. " You will get yourself and me killed 1 " he said, in a hurried whisper. " Killed ? " said the man, impatiently. " The wolves will swarm at the sound of your shot 1 " And Gubbs — for it was that worthy — looked at Wilde with horror-struck eyes. "You don't know 'em — the wolves," added Gubbs, in the same hurried whisper. " They Bleep with one eye open ; and this man is one of them, you know, "Wilde." " Yes, curse him ! " growled Wilde, lowering his pistol, " you are right." Goliath started and rose to his feet. " I swear I heard something," he cried, draw- ing a long knife. The movement was followed by the mmis- takable sound of steps retreating rapidly. Go- liath rushed from the hut ; but only in time to see two shadows disappear behind some bushes. He darted on their track ; reached the bushes, and stopped to listen for a moment — not a sound. The mysterious figures had vanished, THE RIFLED GRAVE, 273 and with muttered imprecations Goiiath turned back. He saw Earle coming to meet him. " What is the matter, brother ? " said the sailor. In a few words, Goliath informed him of thia incident. Earle reflected with a knit brow, for an in- stant, i " Those men were sent here to murder me, brother," he said, " but their hearts failed them ; we are safe at present. Now for other matters. Is it near day ? " The giant pointed to a yellow streak in tho east. Earle nodded. " Come, then, brother. A sailor's first thought is of his craft. I wish to mount that height yonder, and look out for the sail-boat that brought me last night." " Eight, master ! You be a sailor true. If she be wrecked — " "I shall see her. If she rode through tha storm, I shall see her.' And he led the way toward the height " When that is done, we will talk, brother," he said, walking slowly and painfully. " See, we mount ! we will soon arrive. 18 274 THE RIFLED GRAVE. And lie went on, followed by Goliath, and finally reached the summit of the height. It was the wild and lonely spot used as a place of sepulture for the dead wolves. The rough wall of piled-up rock was clearly seen in the gray light of dawn ; and mounting to the top, Earle gazed out on the channel, from which the mists were slowly rising. As he did so, the sun rose, and the curtain of vapor was swept away as if by enchantment. The sailor uttered an exclamation. " Look ! there she is, brother ; she is making for the coast of Trance." In fact the sail-boat, which had brought Earle, known easily by her peculiar rigging, was seen scudding before a fresh breeze in the offing, toward the south. The gigantic Goliath had heard the excla- mation of his companion, but had made no reply. Earle looked round. Goliath was crouching over the rifled grave of the wolf whom he had assisted in burying. " What is the matter, brother ? " said Earle. Goliath uttered the growl of a wild animal, and seized a board which protruded from the hastily filled grave. THE RIFLED GRAVE. 275 a This be the matter, master," he muttered in a low and fierce tone. And exerting his herculean strength, he dragged the entire end of the coffin from the grave. It was empty. " Look ! " said the wolf. " We buried him, and his grave be robbed." As he spoke, he bounded toward the wall, A part of the shroud had been torn torn off by a sharp fragment. " They went this way," he growled. And following the foot-prints rapidly, he reached the spot where the wagon had waited. Here the footprints stopped, and nothing was left but to follow the marks of the wheels, and the horse's feet. These led towards Westbrooke Hall, and Go* liath was about to hasten in the direction thus indicated, when the hand of Earle was laid on his shoulder, and the sailor said, — , " A moment, brother." The giant turned impatiently. "I be on the track — woe, to the man who disturbed a wolf." " I can help you," said Earle. * You, master ? " * By leading you to the body." 276 THE RIFLED GRAVE. "You?" " My interest is to do so. I myself need the help of the wolves." " For what, master \ " " To attack Westbrooke Hall, where my mother is a prisoner; to release her at the same moment when you recapture our dead brother's body." The wolf started back, in astonishment. " At Westbrooke Hall ? " he exclaimed. " Yes ! — my mother, and all that is left of our dead brother, who has been carried off! Come, no time is to be lost ! I am a wolf ! — I make the signal! — to my help, wolves! to my help!" " That is enough, master ! " And they hurried down the steep pathway, toward the haunts of the wolves. CHAPTER XVI. THE ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. T an Lour past noon on the same day which witnessed the discovery of the rifled grave, a singular scene took place at Westbrooke Hall. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was pacing up and down his library, with hurried steps, — his face bruised, and swollen, his eyes glaring with rage, when suddenly there came to his ears a strange sound from the park without, — the sound of furious shouts, hurrying feet, and that muffled and threatening hum, which rises from a mass of men bent upon mischief. At that sound, the baronet suddenly stopped, and turned his head. "What is that?" he muttered, with an ex- pression of rage and apprehension mingled. (277) 2T8 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. ETe hastened to the window. The spectacle which saluted him made him recoil. In front of the hall was a confused and furious crowd of outlandish figures, — ragged, with glaring eyes, fierce grins, brandished aims, — who were hurrying towards the great door, shouting ferociously as they came ; and in front of them, beside the enormous Goliath, who led the attack, the baronet recognized the pale face of Earle, who wore his full uniform. " What devil has brought these wretches to attack and perhaps sack my house ? " cried the baronet. Suddenly his face grew pale. " lias she found him and told him all, and has he come to murder me % " He rushed to the door, and violently called out, — "Wilde!" The man had his hand on the door as the baronet opened it. lie was trembling. "Mount and ride to the revenue station, Wilde ! S ay I am attacked by these assassins — the wolves I Kill my best horse, if neccessary 1 Hide, and come back with the guard at a gallop ! n Wilde ran from the library, and disappeared ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 279 at a side door. The baronet hastened to the front door of the mansion, where a loud knock- ing was heard. " Open ! " cried twenty voices. And the door shook under the pressure of huge shoulders. The baronet replied by drawing a massive chain across the door, and dropping a heavy bar. The door was already locked — it was thus triply guarded. " Open ! " howled the wolves. " Who are you ? " cried the baronet. " Open the door ! or — " A tremendous rush was made at the oak. " I warn you to desist ! " shouted the bar- onet, in a hoarse and trembling voice. " Who comes to invade the privacy — and violate the — " A howl drowned the rest of the sentence. " I am a magistrate ! " " Open ! " " This is a felony!" The door cracked. "I have sent for the revenue guard. Be- ware ! Disperse, before they charge and fire on you ! " As he spoke, the wolves, in one huge mass 280 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. of shoulders, backs, and arms, rushed against the door. It gave way, the bar snapped, the chain was torn from its fastenings, the lock was shattered ; in a moment the wolves had poured in, irresist- ible as a surge of the ocean, and furious voices shouted, — "Our brother! where is the wolf, our brother ! " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, staggered back, as pale as death and trembling in every limb. "The meaning of this violence ?" he mut- tered. " Who is your brother % " A howl answered him. He looked round, expecting every moment to be torn to pieces. Ilis eye fell upon Earle, who, pale and still, was looking at him. "You too!" gasped the baronet, — "what brings you ? " " Where is my mother ? " The baronet grew livid, and made no reply. " "Where is my mother, and the record of her marriage which you had stolen at Martigny ?" The young man's face suddenly flushed Rage was gaining the mastery with him. "I know nothing of her, or the record !" Earle's teeth were heard grinding together. attack: of the wolves. 281 " Y71iere is my mother, and tliat paper ? " lie exclaimed, advancing as though about to throttle the baronet. " Answer ! Dare to trifle with me, and, by heaven! though you be my father, I will slay you as I would slay a venemous rep- tile!" " The baronet shrunk back, pale and trembling. At the same instant, a tremendous shout was heard. It issued from the side apartment, where the wolves had discovered the corpse, and they were seen now, pouring out, the corpse, in its shroud, borne on their brawny shoulders. " Death ! death ! " they cried hoarsely. And they rushed on the baronet. As he staggered back, a loud shout was heard without, and the clash of hooves. " They are coming ! if I can gain a few min- utes ! " muttered the baronet, as pale as death. And recoiling from the mad crowd, — " Beware how you outrage a magistrate ! " he gasped. The hoof -strokes came on like thunder, and men were heard leaping to the ground. a Wilde has met a party going the rounds * I am saved ! " And the baronet broke from Iu3 enemies. 282 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. As he did so, a party of the revenue guard entered the great doorway, with drawn pistols. At their head, tall and commanding, advanced the Viscount Cecil. CHAPTER XVII. THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. HE viscount entered the hall slowly, and his calm eyes surveyed the confused mass of wolves, without apparent emotion. " What is the meaning of this out- rage ? " he said ; " and that corpse there — what does this mean?" The baronet hastened toward his kinsman. " It means that I am attacked and outraged, as you were here, once ; and that wretch takes part again in the attack." The viscount turned suddenly; at sight of Earle he could not conceal his surprise. " You, sir ! " he said ; " is it possible that you are here and thus engaged ? 99 " It is possible, my lord, since you see me," returned Earle, in a gloomy voice ; " and as to (283) 2S4: THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. my eirand, I am not ashamed of it — a mattei I will explain to your lordship." * " It is well, sir," returned the viscount, in a freezing tone. "Wonders never are to cease, then ; and life is a play ! Heave you in France, and come to England ; am riding out, and meet a guard going to protect this gentleman, and take command of it ; I reach the scene of the outrage, and lo ! — the Baron Delamere com- mands the insurgents — the terrible mob ! " There was an imperceptible shade of irony, iji the nobleman's tones. One thing at least was plain — the outrage to the baronet did not vio- lently enrage him. " And now a truce to all this," he said. " The cause of this outbreak? Why are these men here?" " I will explain in one word, my lord ! " said Earle. And he narrated every thing, connected with the robbery of the grave. " Your lordship understands now," he added, " why these men are enraged. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke has violated one of their most deeply rooted prejudices. They look upon one of their fraternity, when dead, as sacred. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke has violated the gra*» THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 285 of one of them, and the wolves rescue their dead brother, my lord ! " The viscount coldly inclined his head. " And the wolves are right ! " he replied. lie toned round to the guard. "Put up your weapons, and mount you* horses." Then turning to the wolves, — " Go home with your dead brother," he said. " Tou know me, and will not disobey me. Re« bury that body. If I have power in Pembroke- shire, no others shall be thus outraged." A hoarse murmur rose from the wolves ; but it was plain that they did not design resistance. In fact the Viscount Cecil was as popular with them as Sir Murdaugh was unpopular; and at the word of the high dignitary and manorial lord they bowed their heads in submission. Goliath went out first, and as he passed before the viscc tint, doffed his seal-skin cap, and said, — " You be right, my lord." " Go, and cease these outrages, Goliath. Tou are the master ! " Goliath went out, overwhelmed with pride at this recognition. " Come on, there ! " he growled to the fierce water-dogs, vho were muttering hoarsely. 286 THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. At the word from their chief, they moved to ward the door. On their shoulders they bore tlio corpse, and as the heavy feet struck the floor, the monotonous chant of the burial service rose. Then the wolves, no longer a mob, but in sol- emn procession, left Westbrooke Ilall. Earle alone remained; his arms folded, his face pale and stern. He was clad in his full uniform, and as the baronet glanced at it, his swollen face was full of satisfaction. " Well, the insurrection is quelled ; the mob has dispersed ! " said the Yiscount Cecil, with covert irony. " Pray what do you propose fur- ther, my good Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke \ " The baronet bounded with rage nearly, at tho ill-suppressed satire of the speaker's tones. u I propose to arrest this person as a French epy, and have him hanged ! " he shouted. "Arrest whom?" " That wretch!" And he pointed with a furious gesture at Earle. "Ah! The Baron Delamere! And as a French spy, do you say ?" "As a spy ! whoever he may be." " You cannot, my dear Sir Murdaugh West brooke." THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 287 " Cannot?" " For the very simplest reason in the world. Spies ply their trade only when two countries are at war. Now France and England have agreed on the preliminaries of a treaty of peace, hostilities are at an end ; and Monsieur le Baron Delamere, there, is on a visit simply to Wales." He turned and bowed to Earle. " When in France, I offered you the hospital- ities of W entworth Castle, Monsieur le Baron," he said : " I beg you will do me the honor, now, to accept them." Earle bowed low, but shook his head. His lips moved ; he seemed vainly attempting to speak. "What is the matter?" exclaimed the vis count, for the young man had grown suddenly white. " Thanks, my lord," came from the sailor, in a low weak voice; "but I came hither to — I must — " He tottered. The viscount hastened to him, and caught him as he was falling. " My mother ! That paper ! " And letting his head fall on his shoulder, suf- fused with blood, Earle lost consciousness. 288 THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. Fifteen minutes afterwards lie was in the Viscount Cecil's chariot, which was rolling towards Wentworth Castle. The viscount had been riding out in it, when he met the party of guards, and had directed it to follow ; he him- self mounting the horse of one of his outriders. As Earle fainted, he bore him out. They en- tered the chariot, and it went on its way. Between the viscount and the baronet not a single word had been exchanged. So the strange scene ended. CHAPTER XVIII. THE CRISIS. O sooner had the chariot disappeared with the viscount and Earle,* than Sir Mur- daugh Westbrooke fell into a chair, and called, in a hoarse and broken voice, — "Wilde!" The Hercnles hastened to his master. He had kept in the background hitherto, but now ap- peared, like a bird of ill-omen swooping down on the field of conflict after the departure of the combatants. "Wilde!" the baronet exclaimed, "we must go to work ; not a moment must be lost now. Where is that woman ? " " She must be in the woods somewhere, with that gypsy rascal, your honor," growled the Hercules. 19 (289) 290 THE CRISIS. " Search, for her instantly, with Gubbs ; she must be recaptured before she gives the alarm." " Yes, your honor." " Then to work ; all is ready. In your absence every arrangement has been made. At the port of Iioche, two or three leagues down the coast, the bark Fly-hy-Wight is moored, and the captain is in my pay. He will sail for St. Domingo, as soon as his passenger arrives. You understand ? He is paid five hundred pounds to conduct a mad woman to St. Domingo. The money will close his ears, her ravings will pass unheeded. You will go with her, and see her beyond seas, when you will return and make your report to me. A thousand pounds will await you. Do you understand all now % " Wilde flushed with joy and cupidity. 66 Yes, your honor ; at your honor's orders." "But first to find her! to find her! That cursed gypsy has overturned all my plans. Two things are necessary now, Wilde; let me talk plainly ; no ceremony is necessary with you. In a few days I am to be married, but before that day two things must be accomplished. This woman must be out of the country, and that man Earle must be — " He stopped and looked at Wilde significantly, THE CRISIS. 391 The eyes of master and man met. Their glances were dark and meaning. " Yes, your honor.'' "He knows all; can send me and you to the gallows. She is the other obstacle : she can in- terpose, and forbid the bans on my marriage day. One course only is left. She must be sent away, and he — well, one thing only will silence him" And in a low voice he added, — " You understand ? " " I understand," growled Wilde. " The woman first ; that is the pressing thing." " Yes : go, now. Take the wagon. Find her, and send her to the ship with Gubbs. Then re- turn here ; I will give you my further orders." Wilde grunted obedience and hurried from the room. "Things are hastening," muttered the bar- onet, " and all depends on prompt action. That cursed dead body that brought about all this discovery, that led the wolves to attack me, and brought the viscount here, — would it had been sunk fathoms deep in the waters of the channel, ere I meddled with it. And then this cut ? Is there no danger? " He looked at his hand, punctured by the knife 292 THE CRISIS. during the process of dissection. It was swollen^ and lie bad bandaged it carefully. "No: it is a trifle. I have more important matters to think of," he said. And rising, he paced to and fro, his brows knit, his lips muttering. "Well, all is touch and go now. A short time will decide all. If I can get her out of the country, and close his lips forever, then safety, security, a bonny bride, and triumph over my enemies. If I fail — but I'll not think of that ; the thought is too horrible ! Now to make my toilet carefully and repair to lady Worsham's. There my beautiful young bride awaits impatiently her devoted lover." A sneer passed over his lips, and the yellow tusks were thrust out. A moment afterwards he had left the apa t> ment. CHAPTER XIX. THE PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. HE chariot containing Earle and the vis- count rolled on toward Wentworth Cas- tle, a great feudal pile crowning an emi- nence above the channel, a few miles south of Oldport. The scene through which they passed was wild and full of majestic beauty. Dense forests covered the slopes of the great headlands to the right, and from the wall of dark evergreens on their left issued a mountain torrent, wdiich rushed with a sound like thunder beneath a stone bridge which spanned the gulf beneath. As the chariot reached this point, the castle was seen near at hand, raising its mighty walls above the foliage of its oaks. It was one of these old feudal piles like Caernarvon or "Dal- (293) 294 PATH TO WENT WORTH r CASTLE. bar don, which render "Wales so attractive m the eyes of the historical antiquary. All around it brought back the past and excited the imagina- tion. Even weak and burnt up with fever as he was, Earle seemed deeply impressed with the scene. " I see you are struck with my old castle,'* said the viscount ; " and it is a true relic of an- tiquity. Edward I. spent a night here, and his son, Edward II., came near being born here in stead of at Caernarvon. Even this stone bridge over the torrent dates back two hundred years." Earl murmured something that was inaudi- ble. The viscount gazed at his pale face with at- tention. The dreamy eyes of the young man surveyed the bridge, the torrent, a path leading to it from the forest, and suddenly lie said, in a OT voice, with a strange and startled look, — " I have been here before ! 55 The baronet looked at him curiously. " You ? Well that is possible, sir. But doubt- less you recall the occasion ? " " I do not," murmured Earle ; " it is strange. But all is familiar to me." lie gazed around him with profound ast( nisli- ment depicted upon his flushed face. PATH TO WENT WO k 7. T CASTLE. 2c*5 " That path ! I know that path. Stay, my lord : there is a stone cross in the wood yonder." And he pointed up the steep path. " True! What does this mean?" muttered the viscount. " I know not, my lord." " There is the cross ! See, through the foli- age. It is built above a well in the forest." "The Hart's Well?" The nobleman started. " You astound me ! Then you have really been here in the grounds of Wentworth Castle?" " I know not. I am in a dream," murmured Earle. " Is there a previous existence ? I do not believe it ; but all here is familiar. I seem to have traversed that path but yesterday, and to have heard some one utter that name — the < Hart's Well.' " He stopped, looking with amazement around him. " Let us alight, if it please you, my lord." "Alight?" " I would ascend that path, and approach the figure in stone of an armed knight through the double row of evergreens ! " The viscount gazed at the speaker with un- bounded astonishment. 296 PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. "The stone figure of the armed kright! the double row of evergreens !" he said, — " then you have visited my house before. What mystery is concealed under all this, sir ? " The nobleman's tones had grown cold and formal. Was this unknown Frenchman some charlatan, then ? Had he acted a part in pre- tending that he had never visited Pembroke- shire before this autumn ? " Truly, something deeply mysterious, to my- self, at least, is under this strange recognition," murmured Earle ; " but will your lordship per- mit me to walk % I am strong enough, I think. If my strength fails me, I will sit down and rest on the granite seat, with the W entworth arms cut in the stone back of the bench." The viscount gazed at him without speaking. Then lie muttered, — " I will discover the meaning of this ! " Without further words, he stopped the coach, and directed the watchman to proceed to the castle by the main carriage road. With Earle, he struck into the path, supporting the young man, who walked with difficulty, looking around him with strange curiosity as lie advan^jd. Half-way up the height they came to \ fouu« tain surmounted by a cross. PATH TO WENTWOllTII CATSLE. 297 " Here is the well I have often drank from," murmured Earle, pale and faint. And he walked on, with the same dreamy and vacant expression ill his eyes. All at once the viscount felt him stagger. " You are faint ! " he exclaimed. " It is — nothing, my lord. Let us go on, If I am weary, I will rest on the stone bench. See, it is yonder, with the Wentworth arms." And he tottered forward to the broad seat, upon which he fell, half exhausted. The viscount no longer said anything. Sur- prise seemed to have rendered him speechless. Earle rose after resting for some moments. "I am — weak — to-day. My wound has drained my blood, he murmured. "But we will soon reach home now ; there are the two rows of evergreens. And look, there is the armed knight ; the stone is discolored since I was here last." He went on, unaware that the viscount guided his steps, and kept him from falling. " The old firs ! How well I remember them. There is the one that had an eagle's nest in it ! " The viscount was speechless. The sailor was recalling things which he himself reme nbered clearly. 298 PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. They passed through the double row of ever- greens toward the huge pile. a Here is the knight ! One of his spurs used to he broken, and I found and played with it one day ! " The viscount turned pale, and glanced at the statue, which rose from a massive block of granite, in a grass-plat. One of the spurs had been broken off — he had never observed it be- fore. He looked at Earle with distended eyes. Something strange seemed going on in the young man. " Why, there is home ! " he exclaimed ; " one half the great door is open, as always ! Is the picture grasping the battle-axe, hanging on the right of the door? And the lady with the blue mantle nearly opposite — is she there ? And the fountain, in the small court, with the water spouting from the tritons?" Earle staggered, and a mist seemed to pass before his eyes. He turned famtly toward the viscount. "What — does — this — mean? Where am 1 ? Why, this is home ! — home ! — home I " And he fainted in the arms of the viscount, who was near fainting in his turn. CHAPTER XX. WHAT THE GYPSY WOMAN HAD SEEN. T was not until the next niglit that Wilde made his reappearance. He then entered the library where Sir Murdaugh was feverishly pacing up and down ; and from the haggard appearance of the man's face, and his jaded expression, it was plain that he had just undergone great fatigue. The baronet stopped and turned around eagerly. "Well?" he exclaimed. " I have caught her at last, your honor ! " " Good ! where is she ? " u On her way to the coast in the wagon with Gubbs" The baronet uttered an exclamation of satis- faction. (299) 800 WHAT THE GYPSY * That is veil ! 55 he said. TTilde made no reply. The baronet glanced at him. lie was gloomy and dispirited. "What is the matter? Has anything oo- cnred ? Where did yon find her ? Has any- thing taken place I 55 " Something unlucky enough, your honor. I will begin and tell you every thing. I fol- lowed then- steps — her, and that gypsy scoun- drel, in the woods, till I lost them. Gubbs was as much at fault as I was ; but we inquired of an old woodman, got on the trail of the gypsies, who have been camping about in the woods, and found 'em at last in the big forest behind Maverick House, where they have been laying low, to keep out of the way. 55 " Make haste ! Come to the point ! 55 cried the baronet, impatiently. u In a minute, your honor. "Well, we came on 'em at last. I heard 5 em, and crawled through the brush till I got a sight of 'em, there close to me. An old hag in a red cloak was watching a pot boiling over a fire on two forked sticks; and that gypsy scoundrel was talking to her, while she — the woman we were after — was listening. As I got to my hiding- place, I heard the old hag call my name ; the WOMAN HAD SEEN. 801 next thing she said was that she coulA get you and me into trouble, and then that gypsy dog, who can never rest till he finds out every thing, plied her with questions till she let out • — " Wilde stopped. "Let out w T hat? Speak!" exclaimed the baronet, wrathf ully. " What she had seen near the bridge leading to Wentworth Castle twenty years ago 1 " said Wilde, sullenly. The baronet turned pale. | " She saw you ? " " Yes, your honor. How could I help that ? I had my orders from you, and obeyed 'em! and now I am to get into trouble." " Cease that growling ! She saw — " j " Well, she saw me steal the child of Yis- count Cecil!" said Wilde, — "the son of his wife who died twenty years ago." The baronet gnawed his lip, and his face grew livid. " You paid me to do it, and I lurked round the castle till I did it," growled the Hercules. " I saw the child -<5ome tottering down the path to the bridge, to look at the water. How he came to stray away from his nurse 1 never knew j but he was there, and I caught hold c f 302 WHAT THE GYPSY him, and lifted him on my black horse, and made through the woods at a gallop, carrying him before me ! " « And — this hag — !" " Saw me ! She was prowling in the brush to steal fowls or any thing. I nearly rode over her, and knew she had seen me. I ought to have killed her, but blood is dangerous ! I paid her ten guineas, and afterwards ten more when she met me and knew me for the man that stole the child ! Then she went away, and I thought die was dead. I had carried the child to France, — you were at Martigny — and I saw no more of her. Now she ha3 told that gypsy and that woman the whole, — that the Viscount Cecil's child was not drowned in the torrent as all thought, but carried off by me. They know that he lives — is Edmond Earle ! " The baronet drew a long, deep breath. Something seemed crushing his breast. "Well, 55 he said, "what followed ?" " Why, Gubbs came up, and we jumped into 'em! 55 was the reply. "I knocked the gypsy rascal on the head, and Gubbs seized hold of the woman. He dragged her off then, and put her in the wagon, where she was gagged, and is now on her way to the FlyJjy-Night? WOMAN HAD SEEN. 303 " That, at least, is gained," muttered the baronet ; " and now for the other part. No one will believe the charge o£ that old gypsy hag that I stole a child; many will believe Edmond, son of the Viscount Cecil, when ho brands me as a murderer ! " He stopped. The sound of horses' hoofs was heard without. "He must die ! How to compass that ! " said the baronet, in a low voice. As he spoke, steps approached, the door opened, and Earle entered, pale and tottering. CHAPTER XXI. THE LOVE OF AN OLD MAN FOB A GIKL. O explain the young man's presence at Westbrooke Ilall, it will be necessary to return to Wentworth Castle for a brief space. Earle had fainted in the arms of the Vis- count Cecil, as we have seen, and it was only with the assistance of several servants, who ran out, that he was borne into the castle. The viscount, pale and lost in wonder at the strange scene he had witnessed, saw to all his wants, and a sound night's rest seemed to re- store the young man to his senses. He descended on the next morning and mar- aged to swallow a little food, but it was plain that he was laboring under fever. The vis- count endeavored to prevail on him to go to hia (304) AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. 305 chamber and lie down, but lie refused, and in the midst of his host's urging, a carriage drove up to the door, from which descended Arthur Maverick and his sister Rose* Rose entered, pale and pensive, and the vis- count hastened forward to greet her. " My dear child ! " he said, — " and you must permit your old cousin to thus address you I — what has become of your roses? Your ap- pearance distresses me ! " Rose smiled. All at once she saw Earle and turned crimson. " Tou, sir, — you here ! " she faltered. The young man bowed, and his face flushed too. " You did not know that my poor face would meet your eyes here, Miss Maverick ? " " No, sir ; but I rejoice to see you — " There she stopped with a deep blush, " An d I to see you again," he said, in a low tone, with much emotion. " I remember that night — what you said — have thought of it often ! On the ocean — in my hours of musing — in France, and everywhere, I have seen your beautiful face and heard your voice 1 " The young girl blushed crimson. The vis* couu^ busy in greeting Arthur, had heari 20 306 AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. nothing. Now he turned and saw Rose and Earle conversing like old friends. " You know uiy friend, then, the Baron Dela mere, my dear Hose ! " he exclaimed. " Very well, cousin — that is — yes, we know Mr. Delamere." " And are glad to call him our friend," said Arthur, cordially pressing his hand. Turning to the viscount as he spoke, he explained how their acquaintance had taken place. " You saved Rose, then," said the viscount to Earle, with deep emotion. " For that alone you deserve and have my gratitude — my very profound gratitude, sir. This young lady is my cousin, and all I love upon earth very nearly. My life has been sad, sir, — her smiles have brightened it. She would live here at Wentworth Castle, as its mistress, after my death, if I could compass that. I cannot. This property goes to a personage very distasteful to me, Sir Mur- daugh Westbrooke. Thus, my very dear Rose," he said, turning with a tender smile toward the girl, " you will remain poor in comparison with what you would be, had I my will ! And now, the news ! I am just from France, you know 1 Do>* is Miss Ellinor Maverick 1 " AN OLD MA&S LOVE. 307 And the viscount suddenly cooled. " That young lady is not a favorite with me, to be frank ; but she is your relative, Arthur/' he added. " I am sorry for it," said the young man. And he narrated every thing relating to the young lady, winding up with the statement that in three or four days she was to be mar- ried to Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. The viscount knit his brows. " I had heard something of this ! But so Boon ! Then she, instead of Rose, will be mistress here ! " All eyes were directed toward the viscount with surprise. u You do not know the tenor of Lord Went- worth's will, I see," he said, gloomily. " In case of my death without issue, Sir Murdaugh West- brooke inherits my estate, as, in the case of his death without issue, I would inherit his. Well, my child," he said to Rose, " he is about to marry, and is younger than I am. Thus he and his children will possess this castle after my death. I attempted to secure you one-half, in consideration of relinquishing to the baronet the other half now. lie refused. There all endfc. Would to God my poor son had — " 308 AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. lie stopped suddenly. " Your son, sir ? " said Earle, looking at hi in. "I had a son. I have been married, sir. Lady Cecil died early, and my poor child strayed away and was drowned. We followed his footprints to that torrent yonder, and he was never more heard of. But this is sorrowful, — let me try not to cloud your smiles, my dear Eose." As he spoke a servant entered, and presented a note on a silver salver. The viscount looked at it, and an expression of vexation came to his face. "A meeting of magistrates on a matter of importance. My presence is indispensable," he said. " But you will stay and dine with me, my dear Rose and Arthur." "I regret to say 'tis impossible, my lord. You will come soon to see us." "Very soon; but remain and entertain my friend, the Baron Delamere. I beg you to do so. You are my own family." And, with a courteous smile, the viscount took his departure. Eose and Arthur remained until evening, With every passing moment, Earle found him- self gazing with deeper tenderness on the beau AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. 309 lif ul girl. His wild passion for Ellinor seemed to have merely smoothed the way for this new emotion, as profound and durable as the first was transient, as serenely tender as the former was passionate. For the first time Earle felt that he loved in- deed; and when at last the young lady rose, and took her departure with her brother, Earle felt as though the sunlight had suddenly disap- peared from the earth with her smile and the light of her eyes. He fell back into despon- dency. The coach, containing Arthur and Rose, rolled away just as night descended upon Went- worth Castle. The viscount had not yet returned, and Earle sat down, gloomy and lonely. Then all the violent passions, which the presence of the girl had banished, began to tear him once more. He rose and paced the floor, burnt up by the one thought of his mother. Finally a fever seized him ; he felt as though his head were burning, and going to a bell, rang it violently. A servant hastened in. " My horse ! " said Earle, feverishly. The servant hesited, looking with astonish- ment at his flushed face. 310 AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. "Well, my horse! My horse, I say! Sad- dle my horse, without delay ! " The servant bowed and went out, reduced to submission by the authoritative voice. Earle then coolly descended, put on his hat and gloves, and went to the great door, A horse, saddled and bridled, already awaited him. At Wentworth Castle the master never waited. " Inform the viscount that I have gone out to take a short ride," he said, getting into the saddle. And leaving the groom gazing with amaze- ment on his agitated face, like the first servant, Earle rode down the great avenue, and, crossing the bridge, went straight on. What was his destination ? lie scarce knew. His brain was reeling, and he was burnt up by fever. Only a vague sensation of rage and thirst for revenge upon the baronet possessed him. His mother — that paper — Sir Mur- daugh Westbrooke — such were the thoughts that flitted through his weak brain. And set- ting spur to his horse, ho rode toward West- brooks Hall. The animal broke into a gallop, and it was a miracle almost that Earle kept his seat as the AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. 311 horse sped on through the darkness. He tot- tered from side to side, his eyes half -closed, his bosom heaving. With heated brain and burn- ing cheeks, which only rendered more shocking and terrible his death-like pallor, he went on at at full speed, clinging to his animal rather by the instinct of excellent horsemanship than any thing else; — and so, feeble, reeling, fever- stricken, out of his senses nearly, reached "West- brooke Hall, and stood before Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke the moment after he had uttered the words in reference to Earle ; — "He must diet' T CHAPTER XXII. THE BLUDGEON AND THE ROPE. T sight of Earle, the baronet recoiled and shook in every limb. Then a dia- bolical joy shone in his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth slowly expanded into the hideous grin which was habitual with him. For a moment, neither of the adversaries spoke. The baronet looked keenly at his in- tended victim. Earle was as thin as a ghost, and frightfully pale, except in the centre of his cheeks. There a hectic flush burned, like a red-hot coal. As he had advanced he had staggered. As he looked at the baronet now, his eyes showed plainly that the young man was approaching a paroxysm of fever; that the wound inflicted by (312) BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 3J3 Wilde had at last worked its results, and strength of mind and body were leaving him together. The expression of diabolical joy in the bar- onet's face deepened. But, spite of this feel- ing, the face of Earle seemed to cow him. " What is — your pleasure ? " he stammered. " What brings you to this house ? " " To slay you, if necessary, as you slew Giles Maverick ! " shouted Earle, " unless you tell me where I may find my mother ! " The baronet recoiled. " My mother ! " shouted Earle, his hand going to his empty belt, " or, by heaven, I'll have your blood, were yon fifty times my father ! " " Then he does not know yet ! " came in low, muttered tones from the baronet, as, with his eyes on the young man's hot face, he retreated toward the right-hand apartment. " My mother ! — where is my mother ? — and that marriage-record you stole at Martigny % " As he spoke in his hoarse voice, strident and metallic from the effect of fever, Earle ad- vanced on the baronet, who continued to retreat before b'm. In the baronet's eyes there was something frightful, — a venom which may be seen in the 314 BLUDGEON AND ROPE. eyes of the cobra, when he raises his deadly crest and is about to spring. " Your mother ? I know nothing of her," he said, watching Earle warily, and continuing to retire. " Murderer ! No ! You shall not escape rae ! You are my father, but — " Tie staggered. But for the table which stood, near him, he would have fallen to the earth, lie leaned upon it, and passed his other hand over his brow as though to clear his vision. "My mother!" he murmured, faintly. His doom had, in that moment, been pro- nounced. The baronet had turned and whispered a few hurried words to Wilde. The latter had dis- appeared at one bound. Suddenly Earle seemed to recover his strength, as though by a miracle. On the wall hung a sword. lie caught it down and rushed on the baronet. " Speak ! Tell me where to find my mother and that paper," he shouted, " or I will tear yon in pieces, whether you be my father or not ! Answer, monster that you are, where have you hidden my mother? You murdered Giles Maverick — the very dog who saw it rose to BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 315 convict you ! You robbed the register at Mar- tigny like a felon and a thief ! Last, my mother disappears — you may have murdered her, a3 you would murder me if you dared ! " • " I dare ! " came in a deep and sombre voice from the baronet. As he spoke the door of the secret closet in the wall flew open: the figure of Wilde ap- peared in the opening like a hideous picture in its frame ; a bludgeon rose, descended, and fell upon Earle's right temple, and he fell forward at full length, deprived of consciousness, it seemed of life. " Now for the rope ! the rope ! " shouted the baronet, hoarsely. Wilde rushed into the apartment, and threw a rope around the young man's shoulders. Then, at a signal from the baronet, he wrapped and re-wrapped his arms, thus rendering him entirely powerless, even if he recovered his senses. . " What next, sir ? " growled the Ilercules, breathing heavily, and gazing with knit brows on the prostrate figure. " Death ! " came in a low tone from the bar- onet, whose face resembled that of a corpse. " Death ! lie has forced this on me ! Death ! 316 BLUDGEON AND ROPE. and death in presence of the dust of Gilea Maverick ! " The Hercules started and turned pale. Rough and unscrupulous as he was, the words of the baronet horrified liim. " Tou don't mean — " "Yes," came in the same low voice from the lips of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. " What is the difference? It must not take place here ! lie must be lost sight of, or you and I mount the gallows ! He must die that I may live ! He shall not first put the rope around my neck, and then/ as the son of the Viscount Cecil, inherit this est* te ! He shall die, and — ■ yonder ! He has made himself the champion of Giles Maverick! Let him wake to find himself close to him in the vault ! Say nothing ! I have resolved on it ! Refuse to aid me, and you hang ! Two horses ! — quick ! and tools to open the Maverick vault ! Once shut up there, he will not trouble us 1 — the dead tell no tales ! " CHAPTER XXIII. THE MAVERICK VAULT. N hour afterwards, a strange, and terrible scene took place at Llangollen church- yard, — a wild and secluded spot in the hills, a league from Westbrooke Hall. The church, ancient and weather-beaten, rose in the midst of a ghostly array of tomb- stones ; and the shadows of the sombre ever- greens growing thickly along the rude stone wall around the grounds, danced fantastically, as a chill wind agitated their boughs, and sobbed onward. It was a weird and lugubrious night. The moon was sailing through long streaks of ebon clouds, reaching from horizon to horizon. At one instant the lonely edifice, and the tombs around it came out with sudden brilliance. (317) 818 THE MAVERICK VAULT. Then the moon disappeared and all was wrapped in gloom again, a gloom which the sobbing wind rendered ghastly and funereal. All at once, as the moon soared forth, light- ing np the sombre tombstones and family vaults, — for Llangollen was the place of sepul- ture for the gentry of the neighborhood, — two figures, carrying between them something which they half supported and half dragged, got over the wall, and rapidly approached a huge stone set in the side of a knoll. This stone wa3 evidently the door to a large vault, and was se- cured by an iron fastening. Over it, cut in rude letters on the coping was the single word — " Maverick." The figures came on rapidly with their bur- den, which, silent and insensible, resembled a dead body. " It is here, 55 said one of the men. " Where are the tools ? Wrench off the fastening. 5 ' The other obeyed the order, and, inserting an instrument, succeeded in forcing the vault. " Open ! 55 came from the other. A huge shoulder was placed against the stone and it slowly revolved, grating on its hinges. Suddenly the neigh of a horse, from beyond the wall, rang out. THE MAVERICK VAULT. 319 The two men started and trembled. i " It is nothing, only the horses ; quick, help me to carry him in ! " came in a guttural whis- per from the lips of Sir Murdaugh Westbrcoke. Wilde, panting and shaking in all his limbs, obeyed. The body of Earle was lifted and borne down the few steps into the vault. ; " He will not live here ten minutes," mut- tered Wilde, staggering back. "The air is death to breathe." " So much the better — come ! " And leaping out of the vault, the baronet gained the open air. Wilde hastily followed him, and, at a sign from his master, closed the huge door. It went to with a dull clash. The Hercules shuddered. " Fasten the iron." With a trembling hand, Wilde obeyed ; ar.d in a few moments the vault was heavily se- cured. The baronet looked on vtith the expres- sion of a fiend, during the work. " And now, come," he said ; " but what is that?" And he pointed to a shadow, passing rapidly beneath the evergreens. As he uttered the words, the shadow darted toward the wall near the horses. 320 THE MAVERICK VAULT. " A man ! — - some one has seen us." The words escaped the baronet in a horrified cry. lie shuddered, and exclaimed. "Pursue him ! — he must die, or we are lost." "Wilde had not waited for the order. With one bound he reached the wall ; as he cleared it, a dark figure crossed the expanse without at a run. Wilde followed ; the figure stumbled ; a moment afterwards, they had clutched. " You ! " cried Wilde, recognizing the gypsy. The vagabond made no reply. " You saw, then ? " gasped Wilde. The words were followed by a cry from the Hercules. The gypsy had drawn his knife, and plunged it into the gamekeeper's heart " Ah ! " groaned Wilde staggering back, " I am dead ! but — " And suddenly wrenching the knife from the gypsy, he drove it into his breast. The weapon disappeared to the hilt, which struck heavily against the gypsy's breast-bone. " We die together at least," gasped Wilde, in a broken voice. And he fell, dragging the gypsy. A moment afterwards, as the baronet hastened to the spot, he half rose. " I die," muttered Wilde — " but he too - - 1 n THE MAVERICK VAULT. 321 lie pointed to the body of the gypsy, lying on its back with the knife buried in the breast. As "Wilde spoke, his head drooped, the death- rattle issued from his throat, and falling back, he uttered a last groan and expired. 21 CHAPTER XXIV. THE MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. 1 was nearly midnight. Sir Murdaugh W estbrooke was sitting in his library at Westbrooke Hall, lie seemed to have grown ten years older since the morning, and was livid. At every instant he looked over his shoulder, and listened. " Folly ! " he suddenly exclaimed, rising and uttering a short, harsh laugh ; " am I a baby to start at shadows ! All is safe now ! discovery is impossible. My plans succeed — nothing fails ! That woman is safe on board the Fly -by Night now, and the marriage record is burned ! That man is — " He stopped. In spite of himself a tremor agitated him. (322) MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. 6^6 " lie too has disappeared ! Thus nothing pre- vents my marrying Ellinor Maverick on the day after to-morrow ; and he will not be present any more than that woman to convict met Yes — all is safe. I marry and I inherit the Wentworth property. The obstacles have dis- appeared — -even Gubbs and Wilde, my tools, Gubbs will go to St. Domingo, and never more be heard of ; Wilde is yonder in the wood where I dragged him and the dead gypsy. When they are found, there will be no questions. My gamekeeper has fought with a poacher, and in the affray they have both been killed ! " He sat down, pale and breathing heavily, des- pite his reassuring reflections. " And yet I tremble ! " he muttered ; " I start at every sound ! " The hoofs of a horse were heard without. A mounted man was evidently approaching rapidly. The baronet started up. " Who can that be ! " As he spoke, a knock was heard at the front door, and then silence followed. The baronet seemed paralyzed. What to do ? Should he secrete himself? Who was this mid- night visitor I 324 MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. " I am a coward ! — shadows fright me ! 1 will face all!" And he went and opened the front door of the house. It was necessary that he should do so. Beside Wilde there had been for weeks only an old deaf crone of a servant at the hall. A serving man was seen at the door. u "Well % " said the baronet in a low tone. The man's hand went to his hat. " lias Captain Earle been here, your honor ? I was sent by his lordship to ask, and say that Captain Earle, who is staying at the castle, went out for a short ride this evening, and an hour or two afterwards his horse came back without any rider. His lordship thought he might have had an accident, and something might be known of him here." The baronet responded in a low tone. "Why here?" " His lordship did not say, your honor." " Say to his lordship that I have seen nothing of Captain Earle." The servant touched his hat and retired. The baronet closed the door, and staggered rather than walked back to the library. "Peril surrounds me on every side! The MAN FROM WE NT IVOR TH CA± . Zir. 325 ghost of that boy rises to point to the spot where he is entombed alive ! Was I mad to do that ? Am I then the monster of monsters ? " He fell into a seat. " Doubtless, since I do this monstrous thing ! Well, let me act out my character ! I will go through now to the end ! Once married, I will go abroad and only return when the viscount is dead ! Dead ? If he were only dead now, all were well ! " A cry of pain followed the words. He had violently clenched his hands. The movement of that upon w T hich the dissecting knife had inflicted the wound, caused him acute agony. " I had forgotten that ! " he muttered, gazing at the ©light puncture, from which he had long removed the bandage ; " who would have be- lieved that a scratch would cause so much pain?" He pondered for more than an hour. Then he suddenly rose. " The die is cast ! Why draw back now ! " he muttered. " All is decided. In two days 1 shall be married and on my way to France ! " A smile of ghastly triumph distorted his lij>s as he spoke, and, taking a light from the table, he went to his chamber. CHAPTER XXV. TOE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. <^?|T was two days after these scenes. The coast of Pembrokeshire was bathed in a flood of brilliant sunshine. The great headland above Oldport rose like a giant in the fresh light. The foam danced and sparkled ; and even the sombre firs of the hills seemed more cheerful for this illumination, driving away the mists of autumn. At Llangollen church in the hills, a large crowd had assembled. It was the day of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke's marriage to Miss Ellinor Maverick. The selection of Llangollen church as the Bcene of the marriage ceremony had been made at the last moment, and in spite of the baronet's (826) THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 327 persistent objections. The fair Ellinor, aow- ever, had not been his opponent in the discus- sion. The old dowager, Lady Worsham, at ; whose house the young lady had "taken refuge," as she said, had been seized with a fit of piety or religious etiquette, it seemed ; and under the influence of this sentiment she had obstinately announced that the wedding feast might be at her house, but the ceremony must be at Llangollen church. The old dowager had triumphed. The bar- onet found her immovable, and with fear and trembling yielded. " After all," he said to himself, " what have I to fear \ A ghost \ — men do not live two days in - — " The words died away in his throat. " So be it, madam," he said. ' And bowing sullenly, he went to make his preparations. The morning came, and the announcement of the intended ceremony had drawn a great crowd, both of the gentry and the plainer peo- ple. Chariots stopped at the gate, and dis- charged their burdens of lord and lady. A crowd watched there, moving unquietly to and fro in front of the gateway. Among the crowd 328 THE WEDDING AT ZLAi/GOLLEM were seen many of the fraternity of the wolves, — rough figures, brought thither by some stronger sentiment, it seemed, than curiosity, and whose eyes were fixed on the pageant with ill-concealed hostility. At last the chariot of Lady Wbrsham, con- taining the dowager, Sir Murdaugh West- brooke, and Miss Ellinor Maverick drove up to the gateway. From it issued, first, the baronet, clad with unusual splendor, but as pale as death. Then came the ladies : they entered the church, and a great crowd surged in after them. In front of the altar stood the priest in his black canonicals. The bridal party — if that could be called a party consisting of but two or three persons — ascended the aisle, took their positions before the priest, and the cere- mony was about to begin. From the body of the church, gloomy, in spite of the sunshine, a great crowd followed the details of the scene, with varied emotions. Many were there from simple curiosity. Others came from want of means to otherwise kill the time. Others, — and they were num- erous — gazed with ill-concealed hostility on the pale bridegroom. Never popular, or per- THE WEDDING AT LLAh GOLLEN. 329 sonally attractive, the baronet had now few well-wishers, and was so livid as to appear hideous. One thing about him everybody observed — his head hung down, and moved from side to side. As it thus moved, wary and fearful glances shot from beneath his gray eyebrows; more than once he looked furtively over his shoulder as though fearful of something. As he took his place beside the beautiful Ellinor, he w r as observed to shudder. She was radiant, and her splendid costume set off her dazzling and magnetic beauty. It was plain that no doubts or misgivings affected her. She w T as about to become the wife of a man of great wealth and high rank — her worldly ambition was soon to be fully grati- fied ; and in the dark eyes of the fair Ellinor, as she rustled up to the chancel, in her grand white satin, could be read haughty triumph, and the fruition of all her hopes. The ceremony began. As it did so, a mur- mur issued from the crowd. They were saying to each other, " How beautiful ! " and " How liideous ! 55 But Sir Murdaugh "Westbrooke did not heai them. All his powers seemed to be concen 330 THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. trated into the one faculty of listening. Ilia face resembled the drawn and parchment-like outlines of a corpse. He plainly feared some- thing — some miracle, it miglit be — the invis- i jle fate seemed approaching. It came. The priest proceeded with the ceremony, and reached the passage. "Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined." lie looked up from the book. " If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or hereafter forever hold his peace." As the words issued from the priest's lips, a woman in a black dress advanced slowly up the aisle. All saw her coming, and a hundred eyes were directed toward her. The priest gazed at her in utter astonishment. The hand containing the prayer-book sunk to his side. The woman came on, slow, silent, with the noiseless tread of a ghost. Suddenly the baronet raised his head. His startled eyes roamed from side to side. Ho glanced over his shoulder. As he did so, ho uttered a low cry. THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 331 " There is just cause," said the recluse, in a low, clear voice, 4C why Sir Murdaugh West- brooke should not marry. I am Lady West- brook e. Here is the record of my marriage." And she extended toward the priest the frag- ments of the leaf of the marriage register stolen from Martigny. CHAPTER XXVL THE VENGEANCE OP A BLOOD-HOUND, IR MURDAUGH WESTBROOKE tottered, and leaned on the chancel railing. Ellinor Maverick tittered a low scream, and foil back fainting in the arms of Lady Worshim. The crowd in the body of the church rose, and towering above them could be seen the commanding figure of the Viscount Cecil, who made a gesture to some one and said coldly, — " The moment has come ! " Then a shudder ran through the assembly. It opened right and left, and through the space thus made advanced a procession of the wolves, bearing on their shoulders — Eakle ! (332) VENGEANCE OS A BLOOD-HOUND. 333 The young man was wasted to a shadow. His face was paler than ashes. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot. lie lay on the brawny shoulders of his brother wolves, as weak as a sick child, and as he was borne up the aisle fixed his eyes on the baronet, and whispered rather than said, — " That is he." The priest advanced hurriedly. " What means this scene ? Who is this sick man?" "Ask the witness I have brought here." said the viscount. And he pointed to the rear of the strange procession. Supported between two of the wolves, was seen the gypsy, as pale and wasted as Earle. His eyes alone seemed alive as he staggered on between his two supporters, and those eyes, dark and fiery, were fixed upon the countenance of the baronet. The priest uttered an exclamation. " My lord ! the meaning of all this ! " ho faltered. "It means that the person whom you see there, has attempted both bigamy and murder,* Baid the viscount. 334 VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. And with his arm extended at full length, he pointed straight toward Sir Murdaugh West- brooke. " Do you doubt ? look at him ! " And his extended arm remained motionless. " Did I need the testsmony of his face, that would convict him ! " said the viscount slowly and solemnly. " But that is not needed. There are witnesses, Listen ! people of Pem- brokeshire ! " And turning to the crowd, — " Sir Murdaugh TVestbrooke married in France — and there is his wife. lie attempts to marry again, and has stolen the record — there it is. lie stole my child — the only child of my poor wife who died twenty years since — to inherit from me, and buried that child alive — there he is ! But two days since all this was arranged, as he supposed, securely. The first wife was sent toward the coast to be carried abroad, and I met and was appealed to by her. The child — my child — was knocked down and dragged to this very spot, and buried alive in the Maverick vaults, by the murderer of Giles Maverick ; and a poor gypsy who saw the infamy, and was left as they thought dead, dragged his bleeding body to Oldport, VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 335 where he gave the alarm to the brave chief of the wolves there. They came and i^escued him, almost dying ! There he is !" lie pointed to Earle. An immense shout rose from the assembly. " Death ! death to him ! " cried the wolves ; "he tried to murder a wolf I Death to the murderer ! " As they spoke, they rushed straight on the baronet, Goliath at their head. " Death ! death ! " rose in hoarse thunder from the ferocious crowd. And they were about to tear the baronet to pieces. Suddenly Goliath recoiled, and the crowd behind him, felt the pressure of his huge bulk. " Look at him ! look at the murderer ! 55 he growled in terrified tones, pointing to the bar- onet. The sight was terrible indeed. Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke foamed at the mouth, and his huge red tongue was hanging out. Ilis eyes glared around him with a vacant and animal expression. All at once he began to pant quickly, as a dog doe3 when he is heated, then he snapped, uttered a growl, which ended in a sound like a bark, and rushed straight upon 338 VENGEANCE OF A BXC OD- -HO LND. the crowd, who gave way with terror, as ha came. " The mad dog ! He was bitten ! — his bite is deadly ! " Some one uttered those words. Their effect was instant. The crowd recoiled, and leaped over tho bocks of the seats, to avoid him. He did not attempt to follow them. They 6ecmed to have disappeared from his view. The wretched man, who had inoculated his biood with the mad dog's virus, when he punctured his hand, in dissecting the corpse, bitten by the animal, was now fully mastered by the poison, and turned into a beast. Hydro- phobia — that most awful of human scourges — had clutched him. He saw nothing, heard nothing, rushed on, he knew not whither, snap- in g, and uttering hoarse cries. When he was followed into the churchyard, it was seen that he made for the Maverick vault. "There are two men murdered here! One is alive!" he growled, tearing at the huge stone. Four men threw themselves upon him, and seized him. They were scarce able to hold him. Tetanus had set in with mortal violence ; VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 837 and he was borne foaming, raving, and strug- gling to Westbrooke hall. Three more paroxysms assailed the miserable man before midnight. As the last died away, he fell back a corpse in the arms of his attendants. The dog of the murdered man, Giles Mav- erick, had avenged his master. He had bitten and poisoned the wolf ; and the dead wolf had poisoned the murderer. * The gallows was spared the trouble. Hydro phooia ended all. 22 CHAPTER XXVIL ■<0 ■ THE WOLVES CELEBRATE THE MARRIAGE OF THEIR CHIEF. UR narrative miglit here appropriately end, but a few words more may interest the reader. As the baronet rushed from Llangollen Church, Ellinor Maverick was borne out faint- ing, by Lady AYorsham; and a month after- wards they went abroad, returning only some years afterwards to Pembrokeshire. Earle, his mother, and the gypsy were led forth in triumph by the wolves — and as the young man raised his head in the fresh sun- shine, he felt his father's arms around him. Thereat the wolves uttered a shout. " It be his son ! the son of the good vi* (338) MARRIAGE CELEBRATION. 339 count ! he be the chief of the wolves ! " shouted Goliath. And again they caught up Earle and bore him to the viscount's coach, on their shculders, in triumph. " You be the chief, master, remember ! " re- peated Goliath. And he uttered a second shout. The wolves howled in response, and the sound rang through the hills like thunder. It was still reverberating in the fir-clad gorges, when the chariot with Earle, his moth- er, the gypsy, and the viscount, disappeared. In an hour they were at Wentworth Castle. A year after these events, Edmond, son of the Viscount Cecil, was married to Rose Maverick, at Maverick House. Lady Westbrooke remained at Wentworth Castle. Nothing could induce her to inhabit her dower estate of Westbrooke Hall. Arthur Maverick remained unmarried. Elli- nor returned only some years afterwards, and never appeared in society ; dedicating her time to Lady Worsham, from whom she expected to inherit an estate. The gypsy, promoted to the post of head 340 MARRIAGE CELEBRATION. gamekeeper at Wentworth Castle, lived and died, loved and trusted by Earle. So terminated the drama — such weie the fates of the personages. The Viscount Cecil seemed, more than all others, content with the denouement. He had regained his son, and that son was married to his favorite Rose. The wedding was a grand one. No less a person than Lieutenant Dargonne made his ap- pearance, and laughed and drank his old cap- tain's heal tli. Then the cortege set out from Maverick House for Wentworth Castle. As it approached Oldport, an ovation awaited it. The wolves attacked it all at once, with loud cries. The horses were taken from the chariot con- taining Earle and his blushing bride ; brawny hands seized the vehicle and drew it on amid cries of rejoicing. And above the ferocious crowd, with bearded faces and brandished arms, rose the shout of Goliath, — • "He be the chief of the wolves V* THE END. if