CHAPTER XIV: GATHERING MOUSE-EAR
"I heard the groans, I marked the tears, I saw the wound his bosom bore."
SCOTT.
After such an evening it was not easy to fall asleep, and Annetossed about, heated, restless, and uneasy, feeling that to remainat home was impossible, yet less satisfied about her futureprospects, and doubtful whether she had not done herself harm byattending last night's rejoicings, and hoping that nothing wouldhappen to reveal her presence there.
She was glad that the night was not longer, and resolved to takeadvantage of the early morning to fulfil a commission of LadyOglethorpe, whose elder children, Lewis and Theophilus, had thewhooping-cough. Mouse-ear, namely, the little sulphur-colouredhawk-weed, was, and still is, accounted a specific, and Anne hadbeen requested to bring a supply--a thing easily done, since it grewplentifully in the court of the castle.
She dressed herself in haste, made some of her preparations for thejourney, and let herself out of the house, going first for one lastlook at her mother's green grave in the dewy churchyard, andgathering from it a daisy, which she put into her bosom, then in thefair morning freshness, and exhilaration of the rising sun, crossingthe wide tilt-yard, among haycocks waiting to be tossed, andarriving at the court within, filling her basket between thechurchyard and the gateway tower and keep, when standing up for amoment she was extremely startled to see Peregrine Oakshott'sunmistakable figure entering at the postern of the court.
With vague fears of his intentions, and instinctive terror ofmeeting him alone, heightened by that dread of his power, she flewin at the great bailey tower door, hoping that he had not seen her,but tolerably secure that even if he had, and should pursue her, shewas sufficiently superior in knowledge of the stairs and passages tobaffle him, and make her way along the battlements to the tower atthe corner of the court nearest the parsonage, where there was aturret stair by which she could escape.
Up the broken stairs she went, shutting behind her every availabledoor in the chambers and passages, but not as quickly as she wished,since attention to her feet was needful in the ruinous state ofsteps and walls. Through those massive walls she could hear nothingdistinctly, but she fancied voices and a cry, making her seek moreintricate windings, nor did she dare to look out till she had gaineda thick screen of bushy ivy at the corner of the turret, where alittle door opened on the broad summit of the battlemented wall.
Then, what horror was it that she beheld? Or was it a dream? Sheeven passed her hands over her face and looked again. Peregrine andCharles, yes, it was Charles Archfield, were fighting with swords inthe court beneath. She gave a shriek, in a wild hope of partingthem, but at that instant she saw Peregrine fall, and with theimpulse of rushing to aid she hurried down, impeded however bystumbles, and by the doors, she herself had shut, and when sheemerged, she saw only Charles, standing like one dazed and white asdeath.
"O Mr Archfield! where is he? What have you done?" The young manpointed to the opening of the vault. Then, speaking with an effort,"He was quite dead; my sword went through him. He forced it on me--he was pursuing you. I withstood him--and--"
He gasped heavily as the words came one by one. She trembledexceedingly, and would have looked into the vault, with, "Are youquite sure?" but he grasped her hand and withheld her.
"Only too sure! Yes, I have done it! It could not be helped. Iwould give myself up at once, but, Anne, there is my wife. Theytell me any shock would kill her as she is now. I should be doublemurderer. Will you keep the secret, Anne, always my friend? And'twas for you."
"Indeed, indeed, I will not betray you. I go away in two hours,"said Anne; and he caught her hand. "But oh!" and she pointed to theblood on the grass, then with sudden thought, "Heap the hay overit," running to fill her arms with the lately-cut grass.
He mechanically did the same, and then they stood for a moment, awe-stricken.
"God forgive me!" said the poor young man. "How to hide it I hardlyknow, but for _her_ sake, ah--'twas that brought me here. She couldnot rest last night till I had promised to be here early enough inthe morning to give you a piece of sarcenet to be matched in London.Where is it? Ah! I forget. It seems to be ages ago that she wasinsisting that I should ride over so as to be in time."
"Lucy must write," said Anne, "O Charley! wipe that dreadful sword,look like yourself. I am going in a couple of hours. There is nofear of me! but oh! that you should have done such a thing! andthrough me!"
"Hush! hush! don't talk. I must be gone ere folks are about. Myhorse is outside." He wrung her hand and kissed it, forgetting togive her the pattern, and Anne, still stunned, walked back to theparsonage, her one thought how to control herself so as to guardCharles's secret.
It must be remembered that in the generation succeeding that whichhad fought a long civil war, and when duels were common assertionsof honour and self-respect among young gentlemen, homicide was notso exceptional and heinous an offence in ordinary eyes as when ahigher value has come to be set on life, and acts of violence arefar less frequent.
Charles had drawn his sword in fair fight, and in her own defence,and thus it was natural that Anne Woodford should think of his deed,certainly with a shudder, but with more of pity than of horror, andwith gratitude that made her feel bound to do her utmost to guardhim from the consequences; also there was a sense of relief, andperhaps a feeling as if the victim were scarcely a human creaturelike others. It never occurred to her till some time after torecollect it would have had an unpleasant sound that she had beenthe occasion of such an 'unseemly brawl' between two young men, oneof them a married man. When the thought occurred to her it made theblood rash hotly to her cheeks.
It was well for her that the pain of leaving home and the bustle ofpreparation concealed that she had suffered a great shock, andaccounted for her not being able to taste any breakfast beyond adraught of milk. Her ears were intent all the time to perceive anytoken whether the haymakers had come into the court and haddiscovered any trace of the ghastly thing in the vault, and shehardly heard the kind words of her uncle or the coaxings of his oldhousekeeper. She dreaded especially the sight of Hans, so fondlyattached to his master's nephew, and it was with a sense of infiniterelief--instead of the tender grief otherwise natural--that she wasseated in the boat for Portsmouth, and her uncle believing her to becrying, left her undisturbed till she had composed herself to wearthe front that she knew was needful, however her heart might throbbeneath it, and as their boat threaded its way through the ships,even then numerous, she looked wistfully up at the tall tower of thecastle, with earnest prayers for the living, and a longing she durstnot utter, to ask her uncle whether it were right to pray for thepoor strange, struggling soul, always so cruelly misunderstood, andnow so summarily dismissed from the world of trial.
Yet presently there was a revulsion of feeling as she was rousedfrom her meditations by the coxswain's answer to her uncle, who hadasked what was a smart, swift little smack, which after receivingsomething from a boat, began stretching her wings and making allsail for the Isle of Wight.
The men looked significant and hesitated.
"Smugglers, eh? Traders in French brandy?" asked the Doctor.
"Well, your reverence, so they says. They be a rough lot out thereby at the back of the Island."
"There would be small harm in letting a poor man get a drink ofspirits cheap to warm his heart," said one of the other men; "butthey say as how 'tis a very nest of 'em out there, and that's how noone can ever pitch on the highwaymen, such as robbed Farmer Vinet'other day a coming home from market."
"They do say," added the other, "that there's them as ought to knowbetter that is thick with them. There's that young master up atOakwood--that crooked slip as they used to say was a changeling--gets out o' window o' nights and sails with them."
"He has nought to do with the robberies, they say," added thecoxswain; "but I could tell of many a young spark who has gone outwith the fair traders for the sport's sake, and because g
entle folkdon't know what to do with their time."
"And they do say the young chap is kept uncommon tight at home."
Here the sight of a vessel of war coming in changed the topic, butit had given Anne something more to think of. Peregrine had spokenof means arranged for making her his own. Could that smugglingyacht have anything to do with them? He could hardly have reckonedon meeting her alone in the morning, but he might have attempted tofind her thus--or failing that, he might have run down the boat. Ifso, she had a great deliverance to be thankful for, and Charles'stimely appearance had been a great blessing. But Peregrine! poorPeregrine! it became doubly terrible that he should have perished onthe eve of such a deed. It was cruel to entertain such thoughts ofthe dead, yet it was equally impossible not to feel comfort in beingrid for ever of one who had certainly justified the vague alarmwhich he had always excited in her. She could not grieve for himnow that the first shock was over, but she must suppress all tokensof her extreme anxiety on account of Charles Archfield.
Thus she was landed at Portsmouth, and walked up the street to theSpotted Dog, where Lady Worsley was taking an early noonchine beforestarting for London, having crossed from the little fishing villageof Ryde. Here Anne parted with her uncle, who promised an earlyletter, though she could hardly restrain a shudder at the thought ofthe tidings that it might contain.