CHAPTER XXVII: THE VAULT
"Heaven awards the vengeance due."
COWPER.
The weary days had begun to lengthen before the door of the hall wasflung open, and little Phil, forgetting his bow at the door, rushedin, "Here's a big packet from foreign parts! Harry had to pay everso much for it."
"I have wellnigh left off hoping," sighed the poor mother. "Tell methe worst at once."
"No fear, my lady," said her husband. "Thank God! 'Tis our son'shand."
There was the silence for a moment of intense relief, and then thelittle boy was called to cut the silk and break the seals.
Joy ineffable! There were three letters--for Master PhilipArchfield, for Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford, and for Sir Philiphimself. The old gentleman glanced over it, caught the words'better,' and 'coming home,' then failed to read through tears ofjoy as before through tears of sorrow, and was fain to hand thesheet to his old friend to be read aloud, while little Philip,handling as a treasure the first letter he had ever received, thoughas yet he was unable to decipher it, stood between his grandfather'sknees listening as Dr. Woodford read--
DEAR AND HONOURED SIR--I must ask your pardon for leaving youwithout tidings so long, but while my recovery still hung indoubt I thought it would only distress you to hear of thefluctuations that I went through, and the pain to which thesurgeons put me for a long time in vain. Indeed frequently I hadno power either to think or speak, until at last with muchdifficulty, and little knowledge or volition of my own, myinestimable friend Graham brought me to Vienna, where I have atlength been relieved from my troublesome companion, and amenjoying the utmost care and kindness from my friend's mother, anear kinswoman, as indeed he is himself, of the brave andlamented Viscount Dundee. My wound is healing finally, as Ihope, and though I have not yet left my bed, my friends assure methat I am on the way to full and complete recovery, for which Iam more thankful to the Almighty than I could have been before Iknew what suffering and illness meant. As soon as I can rideagain, which they tell me will be in a fortnight or three weeks,I mean to set forth on my way home. I cannot describe to you howI am longing after the sight of you all, nor how home-sick I havebecome. I never had time for it before, but I have lain forhours bringing all your faces before me, my father's, andmother's, my sister's, and that of her whom I hope to call myown; and figuring to myself that of the little one. I havethought much over my past life, and become sensible of much thatwas amiss, and while earnestly entreating your forgiveness,especially for having absented myself all these years, I hope toreturn so as to be more of a comfort than I was in the days of myrash and inconsiderate youth. I am of course at presentinvalided, but I want to consult you, honoured sir, beforedeciding whether it be expedient for me to resign my commission.How I thank and bless you for the permission you have given me,and the love you bear to my own heart's joy, no words can tell.It shall be the study of my life to be worthy of her and of you.--And so no more from your loving and dutiful son, CHARLESARCHFIELD.
Having drunk in these words with her ears, Anne left Phil to havehis note interpreted by his grandparents, and fled away to enjoy herown in her chamber, yet it was as short as could be and as sweet.
Mine own, mine own sweet Anne, sweetheart of good old days, yourletter gave me strength to go through with it. The doctors couldnot guess why I was so much better and smiled through all theirtorments. These are our first, I hope our last letters, for Ishall soon follow them home, and mine own darling will be mine.--Thine own, C. A.
She had but short time to dwell on it and kiss it, for little Philipwas upon her, waving his letter, which he already knew by heart; andgalloping all over the house to proclaim the good news to the oldservants, who came crowding into the hall, trembling with joy, toask if there were indeed tidings of Mr. Archfield's return,whereupon the glad father caused his grandson to carry each a fullglass of wine to drink to the health of the young master.
Anne had at first felt only the surpassing rapture of therestoration of Charles, but there ensued another delight in thesecurity his recovery gave to the life of his son. Sedley Archfieldwould not be likely to renew his attempt, and if only on thataccount the good news should be spread as widely as possible. Shewas the first to suggest the relief it would be to Mr. Fellowes, whohad never divested himself of the feeling that he ought to havedivined his pupil's intention.
Dr. Woodford offered to ride to Portchester with the news, and SirPhilip, in the gladness of his heart, proposed that Anne should gowith him and see her friend.
Shall it be told how on the way Anne's mind was assailed by femininemisgivings whether three and twenty could be as fair in hersoldier's eyes as seventeen had been? Old maidenhood came earlierthen than in these days, and Anne knew that she was looked upon asan old waiting-gentlewoman or governess by the belles of Winchester.Her glass might tell her that her eyes were as softly brown, herhair as abundant, her cheek as clear and delicately moulded as ever,but there was no one to assure her that the early bloom had notpassed away, and that she had not rather gained than lost in dignityof bearing and the stately poise of the head, which the jealousdamsels called Court airs. "And should he be disappointed, I shallsee it in his eyes," she said to herself, "and then his promiseshall not bind him, though it will break my heart, and oh! how hardto resign my Phil to a strange stepmother." Still her heart waslighter than for many a long year, as she cantered along in thebrisk March air, while the drops left by the departing frostglistened in the sunshine, and the sea lay stretched in a delicategray haze. The old castle rose before her in its familiar home-likemassiveness as they turned towards the Rectory, where in thatsheltered spot the well-known clusters of crocuses were openingtheir golden hearts to the sunshine, and recalling the days whenAnne was as sunny-hearted as they, and she felt as if she could beas bright again.
In Mrs. Fellowes's parlour they found an unexpected guest, no otherthan Mrs. Oakshott.
'Gadding about' not being the fashion of the Archfield household,Anne had not seen the lady for several years, and was agreeablysurprised by her appearance. Perhaps the marks of smallpox hadfaded, perhaps motherhood had given expression, and what had beengaunt ungainliness in the maiden had rounded into a certainimportance in the matron, nor had her dress, though quiet, any ofthe Puritan rigid ugliness that had been complained of, and thoughcertainly not beautiful, she was a person to inspire respect.
It was explained that she was waiting for her husband, who was gonewith Mr. Fellowes to speak to the officer in command of the soldiersat the castle. "For," said she, "I am quite convinced that there issomething that ought to be brought to light, and it may be in thatvault."
Anne's heart gave such a throb as almost choked her.
Dr. Woodford asked what the lady meant.
"Well, sir, when spirits and things 'tis not well to talk of arestarting up and about here, there, and everywhere, 'tis plain theremust be cause for it."
"I do not quite take your meaning, madam."
"Ah, well! you gentlemen, reverend ones especially, are the last tohear such things. There's the poor old Major, he won't believe aword of it, but you know, Mistress Woodford. I see it in your face.Have you seen anything?"
"Not here, not now," faltered Anne. "You have, Mrs. Fellowes?"
"I have heard of some foolish fright of the maids," said Naomi,"partly their own fancy, or perhaps caught from the sentry. Thereis no keeping those giddy girls from running after the soldiers."
Perhaps Naomi hoped by throwing out this hint to conduct hervisitors off into the safer topic of domestic delinquencies, butMrs. Oakshott was far too earnest to be thus diverted, and sheexclaimed, "Ah, they saw him, I'll warrant!"
"Him?" the Doctor asked innocently.
"Him or his likeness," said Mrs. Oakshott, "my poor brother-in-law,Peregrine Oakshott; you remember him, sir? He always said, poorlad, that you and Mrs. Woodford were kinder to him than his ownflesh and blood, except his uncle, Sir Peregrine. For my part, Inever did give
in to all the nonsense folk talked about his being achangeling or at best a limb of Satan. He had more spirit and sensethan the rest of them, and they led him the life of a dog, thoughthey knew no better. If I had had him at Emsworth, I would haveshown them what he was;" and she sighed heavily. "Well, I did notso much wonder when he disappeared, I made sure that he could bearit no longer and had run away. I waited as long as there was anyreason, till there should be tidings of him, and only took hisbrother at last because I found they could not do without me athome."
Remarkable frankness! but it struck both the Doctor and Anne that ifPeregrine could have submitted, his life might have been freer andless unhappy than he had expected, though Mrs. Martha spoke thebroadest Hampshire.
Naomi asked, "Then you no longer think that he ran away?"
"No, madam; I am certain there was worse than that. You rememberthe night of the bonfire for the Bishops' acquittal, Miss Woodford?"
"Indeed I do."
"Well, he was never seen again after that, as you know. The placewas full of wild folk. There was brawling right and left."
"Were you there?" asked Anne surprised.
"Yes; in my coach with my uncle and aunt that lived with me, though,except Robin, none of the young sparks would come near me, exceptsome that I knew were after my pockets," said Martha, with a good-humoured laugh. "Properly frightened we were too by the brawlingsailors ere we got home! Now, what could be more likely than thatsome of them got hold of poor Perry? You know he always would goabout with the rapier he brought from Germany, with amber set in thehilt, and the mosaic snuff-box he got in Italy, and what could belooked for but that the poor dear lad should be put out of the wayfor the sake of these gewgaws?" This supposition was gratifying toAnne, but her uncle must needs ask why Mrs. Oakshott thought so morethan before.
"Because," she said impressively, "there is no doubt but that he hasbeen seen, and not in the flesh, once and again, and always aboutthese ruins."
"By whom, madam, may I ask?"
"Mrs. Fellowes's maids, as she knows, saw him once on the beach atnight, just there. The sentry, who is Tom Hart, from our parish,saw a shape at the opening of the old vault before the keep andchallenged him, when he vanished out of sight ere there was time topresent a musket. There was once more, when one moonlight night oursexton, looking out of his cottage window, saw what he declares wasnone other than Master Perry standing among the graves of ourfamily, as if, poor youth, he were asking why he was not among them.When I heard that, I said to my husband, 'Depend upon it,' says I,'he met with his death that night, and was thrown into some hole,and that's the reason he cannot rest. If I pay a hundred pounds forit, I'll not give up till his poor corpse is found to have Christianburial, and I'll begin with the old vault at Portchester!' My goodfather, the Major, would not hear of it at first, nor my husbandeither, but 'tis my money, and I know how to tackle Robin."
It was with strangely mingled feelings that Anne listened. Thatsearch in the vault, inaugurated by faithful Martha, was what shehad always felt ought to be made, and she had even promised toattempt it if the apparitions recurred. The notion of the deedbeing attributed to lawless sailors and smugglers or highwaymen, whowere known to swarm in the neighbourhood, seemed to remove alldanger of suspicion. Yet she could not divest herself of a vaguesense of alarm at this stirring up of what had slept for sevenyears. Neither she nor her uncle deemed it needful to mention theappearance seen by little Philip, but to her surprise Naomi slowlyand hesitatingly said it was very remarkable, that her husbandhaving occasion to be at the church at dusk one evening just afterMidsummer, had certainly seen a figure close to Mrs. Woodford'sgrave, and lost sight of it before he could speak of it. He thoughtnothing more of it till these reports began to be spread, but he hadthen recollected that it answered the descriptions given of thephantom.
Here the ladies were interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Fellowesand Robert Oakshott, now grown into a somewhat heavy but by no meansfoolish-looking young man.
"Well, madam," said he, in Hampshire as broad as his wife's, "youwill have your will. Not that Captain Henslowe believes a word ofyour ghosts--not he; but he took fire when he heard of queer sightsabout the castle. He sent for the chap who stood sentry, and wasdownright sharp on him for not reporting what he had seen, and he isordering out a sergeant's party to open the vault, so you may comeand see, if you have any stomach for it."
"I could not but come!" said Madam Oakshott, who certainly did notlook squeamish, but who was far more in earnest than her husband,and perhaps doubted whether without her presence the quest would bethorough. Anne was full of dread, and almost sick at the thought ofwhat she might see, but she was far too anxious to stay away. Mrs.Fellowes made some excuse about the children for not accompanyingthem.
It always thrilled Anne to enter that old castle court, the familiarand beloved play-place of her childhood, full of memories of Charlesand of Lucy, and containing in its wide precincts the churchyardwhere her mother lay. She moved along in a kind of dream, glad tobe let alone, since Mr. Fellowes naturally attended Mrs. Oakshott,and Robert was fully occupied in explaining to the Doctor that heonly gave in to this affair for the sake of pacifying madam, sincewomen folk would have their little megrims. Assuredly that tall,solid, resolute figure stalking on in front, looked as littlesubject to megrims as any of her sex. Her determination had broughther husband thither, and her determination further carried the day,when the captain, after staring at the solid-looking turf, stampingon the one stone that was visible, and trampling down the bunch ofnettles beside it, declared that the entrance had been so thoroughlystopped that it was of no use to dig farther. It was Madam Marthawho demanded permission to offer the four soldiers a crown apiece ifthey opened the vault, a guinea each if they found anything. Thecaptain could not choose but grant it, though with something of asneer, and the work was begun. He walked up and down with Robert,joining in hopes that the lady would be satisfied before dinner-time. The two clergymen likewise walked together, arguing, as wastheir wont, on the credibility of apparitions. The two ladies stoodin almost breathless watch, as the bricks that had covered in theopening were removed, and the dark hole brought to light. Contraryto expectation, when the opening had been enlarged, it was foundthat there were several steps of stone, and where they were brokenaway, there was a rude ladder.
A lantern was fetched from the guard-room in the bailey, and aftermuch shaking and trying of the ladder, one of the soldiersdescended, finding the place less deep than was commonly supposed,and soon calling out that he was at the bottom. Another followedhim, and presently there was a shout. Something was found! "Arusty old chain, no doubt," grumbled Robert; but his wife shrieked.It was a sword in its sheath, the belt rotted, the clasp tarnished,but of silver. Mrs. Oakshott seized it at once, rubbed away thedust from the handle, and brought to light a glistening yellow pieceof amber, which she mutely held up, and another touch of herhandkerchief disclosed on a silver plate in the scabbard an oak-tree, the family crest, and the twisted cypher P. O. Her eyes werefull of tears, and she did not speak. Anne, white and trembling,was forced to sink down on the stone, unnoticed by all, while RobertOakshott, convinced indeed, hastily went down himself. The swordhad been hidden in a sort of hollow under the remains of the brokenstair. Thence likewise came to light the mouldy remnant of a broadhat and the quill of its plume, and what had once been a coat, evenin its present state showing that it had been soaked through andthrough with blood, the same stains visible on the watch and themosaic snuff-box. That was all; there was no purse, and no othergarments, though, considering the condition of the coat, they mighthave been entirely destroyed by the rats and mice. There was indeeda fragment of a handkerchief, with the cypher worked on it, whichMrs. Oakshott showed to Anne with the tears in her eyes: "There! Iworked that, though he never knew it. No! I know he did not likeme! But I would have made him do so at last. I would have been sogood to him. Poor fellow, that he should have been lying there al
lthis time!"
Lying there; but where, then, was he? No signs of any corpse wereto be found, though one after another all the gentlemen descended tolook, and Mrs. Oakshott was only withheld by her husband's urgentrepresentations, and promise to superintend a diligent digging inthe ground, so as to ascertain whether there had been a hasty burialthere.
Altogether, Anne was so much astonished and appalled that she couldhardly restrain herself, and her mind reverted to Bishop Ken'stheory that Peregrine still lived; but this was contradicted by theappearance at Douai, which did not rest on the evidence of hersingle perceptions.
Mrs. Fellowes sent out an entreaty that they would come to dinner,and the gentlemen were actually base enough to wish to comply, sothat the two ladies had no choice save to come with them, especiallyas the soldiers were unwilling to work on without their meal.Neither Mrs. Oakshott nor Anne felt as if they could swallow, andthe polite pressure to eat was only preferable in Anne's eyes to theconversation on the discoveries that had been made, especially theconclusion arrived at by all, that though the purse and rings hadnot been found, the presence of the watch and snuff-box precludedthe idea of robbery.
"These would be found on the body," said Mr. Oakshott. "I couldswear to the purse. You remember, madam, your uncle bantering himabout French ladies and their finery, asking whose token it was, andhow black my father looked? Poor Perry, if my father could have hada little patience with him, he would not have gone roaming about andgetting into brawls, and we need not be looking for him in yonderblack pit."
"You'll never find him there, Master Robert," spoke out the oldOakwood servant, behind Mrs. Oakshott's chair, free and easy afterthe manner of the time.
"And wherefore not, Jonadab?" demanded his mistress, by no meanssurprised at the liberty.
"Why, ma'am, 'twas the seven years, you sees, and in course whenthem you wot of had power to carry him off, they could not take hissword, nor his hat, not they couldn't."
"How about his purse, then?" put in Dr. Woodford.
"I'll be bound you will find it yet, sir," responded Jonadab, by nomeans disconcerted, "leastways unless some two-legged fairies havegot it."
At this some of the party found it impossible not to laugh, and thisso upset poor Martha's composure that she was obliged to leave thetable, and Anne was not sorry for the excuse of attending her,although there were stings of pain in all her rambling lamentationsand conjectures.
Very tardily, according to the feelings of the anxious women, wasthe dinner finished, and their companions ready to take them outagain. Indeed, Madam Oakshott at last repaired to the dining-parlour, and roused her husband from his glass of Spanish wine torenew the search. She would not listen to Mrs. Fellowes's advicenot to go out again, and Anne could not abstain either from watchingfor what could not be other than grievous and mournful to behold.
The soldiers were called out again by their captain, and reinforcedby the Rectory servant and Jonadab.
There was an interval of anxious prowling round the opening. Mr.Oakshott and the captain had gone down again, and found, what themilitary man was anxious about, that if there were passages to theouter air, they had been well blocked up and not re-opened.
Meantime the digging proceeded.
It was just at twilight that a voice below uttered an exclamation.Then came a pause. The old sergeant's voice ordered care and apause, somewhere below the opening with, "Sir, the spades have hitupon a skull."
There was a shuddering pause. All the gentlemen except Dr.Woodford, who feared the chill, descended again. Mrs. Oakshott andAnne held each other's hands and trembled.
By and by Mr. Fellowes came up first. "We have found," he said,looking pale and grave, "a skeleton. Yes, a perfect skeleton, butno more--no remains except a fine dust."
And Robert Oakshott following, awe-struck and sorrowful, added,"Yes, there he is, poor Perry--all that is left of him--only hisbones. No, madam, we must leave him there for the present; wecannot bring it up without preparation."
"You need not fear meddling curiosity, madam," said the captain. "Iwill post a sentry here to bar all entrance."
"Thanks, sir," said Robert. "That will be well till I can bury thepoor fellow with all due respect by my mother and Oliver."
"And then I trust his spirit will have rest," said Martha Oakshottfervently. "And now home to your father. How will he bear it,sir?"
"I verily believe he will sleep the quieter for knowing for acertainty what has become of poor Peregrine," said her husband.
And Anne felt as if half her burthen of secrecy was gone when theyall parted, starting early because the Black Gang rendered all theroads unsafe after dark.