CHAPTER IV.
Besides Zedekiah Truman and the maiden Abigail (for Abigailhad never been married), the establishment at Bethlehem Hall,of which we have been recently treating, embraced anotherindividual, who, being Master Shedlock’s wife, might withpropriety be considered its mistress. But if Dame Shedlock wassuch in name, or, to take a higher ground, by right, a verylimited acquaintance with the economy of the Hall, on occasionsof a general nature, would show that she was not so in fact. Sofar, indeed, from governing others, she was scarcely mistress ofherself, but was held responsible by her lord for whatever shedid, and was continually being subjected, according to the turnof his capricious temper, to all those mortifications and trials,which too often form the portion of the uncomplaining wife.
Few women could have borne this treatment with the meekness andpatience that were manifested by Dame Shedlock. Her equanimitywas, to all appearance, above the reach of those circumstanceswhich influence most tempers, and was founded on qualities toosterling to be corrupted, and too solid to be undermined. Shemet insult, however gratuitous, with the most calm endurance;she submitted to degradation, without a murmur; and, what wasstranger still, as opposed to the strongest principles of ournature, she repaid the tyranny of her husband with the deepestand most absolute love.
It is a difficult thing to tear the affections from onewho, in times past, has been their stay and centre; and itmay be doubted whether the heart can ever wholly alienate aonce-cherished object; but that love, which comprehends thesoftest feelings of our nature, bound together by the mosttender memories, should be proof to a continuous succession ofoutrageous assaults, and survive all fellowship and reciprocity,seems almost impossible. Yet Dame Shedlock, in her attachmentto her husband, realised this seeming anomaly. After a life ofill-usage, she still clung to him as fondly, as devotedly, andeven as passionately, as on the day that, glowing with maidenlyconfusion, she first surrendered to him her hand and heart. Hemight be a bad man; she might know that, in his dealings withthe world, he often committed very unscrupulous acts; but yether bosom found him an excuse, or awarded him a justification.Such a deed might appear evil in her eye, but it had, no doubt,a sanction in the practice of the world, or was called forand justified by the circumstances of the times. She would notacknowledge that the absolute possessor of her most precioussympathies, on whom she reposed her happiness here, and herwishes of hereafter, was stained and defiled with the hideouscolours of guilt: even if he were so, it was not by her, the wifeand partner of his bosom, that his actions were to be questioned,or his conduct condemned. In short, despite his ill-usage, andthe groveling selfishness of his nature, which he seemed to pridehimself in making apparent, she loved him; and this explains, inone word, every trait in her conduct that appears singular orunnatural.
If Dame Shedlock had been a mother, her love for her husbandmight, from the division of her affections, have been lessstable, and more alive to those slights and provocations, whichfall on the heart with a depressing influence. Less possessedby her love, she would have viewed his character more closely:she would have deemed his affectation of sanctity, which she nowconsidered pure and genuine, sheer hypocrisy, and his violationsof right, oppressive and sinful. His selfishness, dissimulation,and avarice, however disguised, would have deprived him of herrespect; and his tyrannical disposition would probably haveprovoked her contempt. But, secluded from all society, having nochannel but him for the sweetest effusions of her amiable andgentle nature, her love was without restraint, and she could seein his heart no shade of evil, or trace of blemish.
It is not always that an individual’s temper, as far as regardsits principal characteristics, may be seen in the face; but inDame Shedlock’s, it was written distinctly. Her complexion wasdark, and, though she might be in her fiftieth year, her hair,where it was visible, was still dark also, yet not unmingled withgrey. Her eyes were of a deep brown, and amply answered, by theirquiet and subdued light, for the evenness of her disposition,and the docility of her nature. The impression they created wasconfirmed, on a closer survey, by her other features, which,though not of a classic mould, were regular and harmonious, andwere more charming from their sweet melancholy, chastened by thesoft light of resignation and endurance, than they would havebeen in the full glow of mere youth and beauty.
Such was the person who, a few minutes previous to the periodthat closed our last chapter, while Shedlock and Sir WalterRaleigh were yet in the avenue, passed into the pleasure-groundthat surrounded Bethleham Hall, and proceeded down a secludedside-walk. For some few minutes she walked leisurely along,without sustaining any interruption, or, indeed, encounteringor seeing a single individual. But after a while, she came toa spot where, pushed out by a small shrubbery, the path sweptclose up to the park-fence, in which there was a blind gate,communicating with the lane beyond. Though she was within a paceor two of the gate, she did not observe that it was slightlyajar; and it was not till she came abreast of it, and, thinkingshe heard a rustling noise in that quarter, turned an inquiringgaze thitherwards, that the fact incurred her notice. Her gazewas still turned on the door, when it was suddenly pushed open,and a man, whom it had served as a place of ambush, presentedhimself at the aperture.
She gave a slight start as she glanced in the man’s face, andthen turned an anxious gaze around her, as if to ascertain, bythis hasty survey, whether any other person was within sight. Butthe view was, from the curve in the walk, very limited, and inneither direction extended more than a dozen yards, when it waslost in the sweep of the adjacent shrubbery. So far as her glancereached, however, there was no person in view, and, satisfied ofthis, she turned her eye on the man again.
“Bernard Gray, what wouldst thou?” she inquired.
“I knew thou wouldst come this way,” answered the personaddressed, and who, it will be inferred, was no other than ourfriend Bernard, “and I waited here to see thee. Since I was withthee last, I have been in talk with young Clifford, and warnedhim to be wary.”
“And he has gone?” said Dame Shedlock.
“That has he not,” replied Bernard, “though he is to go, an’ noill happen him, this even.”
Dame Shedlock turned pale on hearing these words. “An’ he be notgone already,” she said, “he may not go at all. Thou shouldsthave urged him to depart incontinently.”
“He gave my warning no heed,” returned Bernard. “He hath no fearof peril.”
“Is he so valiant?” inquired the dame.
“Faith, there be none more so,” answered Bernard. “’Twould dothy heart good, lady, to see what a brave cavalier is he now. Iprithee, take pity upon him, and lend him thy countenance.”
“What wouldst thou have me do?” demanded Dame Shedlock.
“Though knowest, lady,” replied Bernard, “that these broad lands,though they be vested in thy husband, be his rightfully; and----”
“’Tis false!” cried Dame Shedlock, with much passion. “Butbegone! begone! I’ll no more with thee!”
“But one moment!” implored Bernard.
“Hush, for thy life!” said the dame: “some one comes, and thestep, methinks, is his.”
“I’ll seek thee again to-morrow, then,” said Bernard, in a lowtone.
Thus speaking, he stepped into the lane, closing the door behindhim. Almost at the same moment, Shedlock--for the dame was rightin her conjecture--made his appearance in the walk, within a fewpaces of where they had been conversing.
This was a dilemma of which the dame had had no expectation.Already disturbed by her conversation with Bernard, the suddenapproach of her husband, who looked on Bernard as an enemy, tookher perfectly aback, and her generally-serene face presented themost lively traces of embarrassment and confusion.
Shedlock observed her discomposure instantly, and itsinconsistency with her usual demeanour, which was so uniformlyplacid, invoked in his mind the most singular suspicions.
“Who hath been here?” he demanded, on coming up with her.
Before the dame could reply,
he turned to the contiguous gate,and, drawing it open, looked out on the lane. There was no onethere, and, stepping back, he pushed the gate close again, andturned to the dame once more.
The latter person had by this time recovered herself; but herpresent composure, though almost perfect, and quite relievedof every trace of confusion, did not lead him to forget herprevious bearing. Indeed, it rather served, from the breadth andprominence of the contrast, to attach to his suspicions someshade of confirmation.
“Woman!” he cried, in a voice husky with rage, “what doth thismean? Who hath been here, I say?”
“Dost think I would wrong thee, then?” answered the dame. “No!no!--not for my life!”
“Who hath been here?” demanded Shedlock, seizing her by thecollar of her bodice.
“Nay, never hurt me, husband!” replied the dame, shrinking alittle. “Only say thou wilt forgive me--say thou wilt not beangered, and I will tell thee.”
“Woman! I have a mind to dash thee down,” rejoined Shedlock,giving her a slight shake, “and to trample thee under foot, asthe angels of darkness trample on Judas. But I will forbear, andthe Spirit, through the mercy of the Lord, shall hold me back.Who hath been here?”
His small ferret-like eyes glared fearfully on her face, andthere was a red flush on his brow, just beneath the brim of hishat, that made the dame tremble. Still she resolved to tell himthe truth, though she knew that, in his present mood, it woulddraw down upon her head the full fury of his anger.
“Do me no harm, husband!” she said. “’Twas the man Bernard Gray.”
“Ah!” cried Shedlock.
“Indeed, dear, I sought him not,” said the dame, earnestly.“He was standing here, as I came up; and I gave him but a coldwelcome.”
“What sought he here?” demanded Shedlock.
“That know I not,” answered the dame, “for, while he was yetspeaking, we heard thy step approach, and he broke away.”
Shedlock’s angry eyes ran quickly over her face, but therewas nothing there to awake in him, by a want of harmony withthe general expression, the least doubt of her sincerity. Hercomplexion, it is true, had undergone a change, and was verypale, and, moreover, there was a trace of hesitation abouther lips; but Shedlock knew her too well to attribute thismanifestation to conscious guilt, or aught but her terror. Itwas clear that she spoke the truth, and that she thought, in theconfidence and simplicity of her nature, that he would believeher; for she had never uttered a falsehood yet.
“The Lord deliver me from thy snares,” ejaculated Shedlock,devoutly, and, at the same time, releasing her from his grasp.“Verily, the Lord is strong to deliver me.”
“Of a surety, is he,” answered the dame. “Put thy trust in theLord, and he shall deliver thee out of thy trouble.”
“Peace, thou Jezebel, and get thee hence!” returned Shedlock.“There is a malignant yonder, in the blue chamber, who will servethee, mayhap, for this vagrant Bernard. Get thee to him, and holdhim there till my return.”
Dame Shedlock made no answer, but, turning silently away,proceeded to obey the injunction of her lord.
A few minutes of brisk walking brought her to the hall, which sheentered, intending, though still somewhat agitated, to cross tothe blue room without delay. Just as she passed under the porch,however, she was encountered by Zedekiah Truman, who, in hiseagerness to retreat, had almost run her down, and now broughther to a stand.
“Zedekiah, what troubleth thee?” she asked, in amaze.
But the terrified Zedekiah, whether from fear, or from want ofbreath, was quite speechless, and, in reply to her inquiry, couldonly point to the open door of the blue room. Turning her eyethitherwards, she perceived a cavalier--who, indeed, was no otherthan Sir Walter Raleigh--standing in the middle of the chamber,and shaking from his locks and face a continuous stream of water.She was wondering what this could mean, when Zedekiah, whom shehad seized by the wrist, sought to throw off her hold, and resumehis interrupted flight.
“The devil! the devil!” he cried, in tremulous accents. “I sawthe devil talking with him.”
Thus speaking, he wrenched his wrist from the dame’s grasp, and,pushing past her, dashed through the hall-door. The dame, thoughher heart was not quite itself, maintained her ground, and, againglancing at Sir Walter, waited an explanation of this singularincident.
She was not kept in uncertainty long. Sir Walter, aroused byZedekiah’s exclamation, which revealed to him the spring andmotive of that person’s conduct, speedily recovered himself; andthough, with all his vexation, he could hardly repress a heartylaugh, proceeded to inform her how he came to be placed in aplight so deplorable.
He soon made the dame sensible, by his comprehensive explanation,that the simple Zedekiah was entirely mistaken, and that thereport of his having been in correspondence with Satan wasutterly unfounded. Satisfied of this, the dame supplied him witha napkin, in order that he might remove the water from his faceand hair. She then hastened, at his request, to explain what hadhappened to her two domestics, as Sir Walter feared that theymight otherwise alarm the neighbourhood, and so put them to greatinconvenience.
During her absence, Sir Walter endeavoured, as far ascircumstances would permit, to restore his disordered toilet.He accomplished his purpose with ease; for his ruff, or frill,which, according to the fashion of the day, he wore high, wasbut very slightly wet; and this was the only part of his dressthat the water could damage. By the time that he had perfectlyeffaced all vestige of the water, the dame rejoined him; and themost polished courtier of an age which, by the testimony of both“tale and history,” abounded in polished courtiers, entered on a_tête-à-tête_ with a Puritan matron.
Though far in advance of the prejudices and confined feelingsof his era, Sir Walter was not, on the whole, over pleased withthis situation. He was, however, of that felicitous disposition,that he made himself at his ease in whatever society he mighthappen to be mingled with; and at a time when, as now, he wason the brink of enterprises that involved the most giganticinterests, and were attended by the greatest risks, which nocare or foresight could avoid, would bend his mind to the mosttrifling points of etiquette, and the least significant detailsof social harmony. Still, he hailed the return of Shedlock, afteran interval of about an hour, with some degree of pleasure, andfelt that the accession to the company relieved him of an irksometask.
Shedlock was accompanied by the lawyer, Master Hardscrew, whom hehad, conformably to his expectations, found at home, and easilyinduced to return with him to the Hall.
The arrival of these individuals afforded Dame Shedlock anexcuse to retire, which, on a signal from her husband, she didforthwith. They were, as they desired, thus left to themselves,and, free from all obstruction, they entered on the businessthat had brought them together. The particulars of this beingalready settled, and only the written agreement, in which thoseparticulars were to be embodied, remaining to be done, theyshortly brought it to a close.
Whatever might be its charms, Bethlehem Hall was not the sortof place, when the choice rested with himself, that Sir WalterRaleigh would find delight in; and therefore, after he had cometo a settlement with Shedlock, he lost no time in taking hisdeparture. But he did not carry away with him what had been thechief object of his repairing thither. Shedlock, though immenselywealthy, kept but little money in his house, the greater partof his rents being vested in a mercantile concern, at Exeter,in which he occupied the position of sleeping partner. It wasarranged, therefore, on the agreement being signed, that theadvance to be made by Shedlock should be paid over to Sir Walterthe next morning, at the countinghouse of the aforesaid concern;and, with this appointment, the contracting parties separated.
The countinghouse of Shedlock and Craftall--for such was thedesignation of the concern alluded to--was situate in theHigh-street of Exeter; and, though the operations of the firmwere by no means limited, was presided over by the individualwho, from whatever reason, was named last. It was not, however,in the firm’s designation only, but in everyt
hing he engaged in,that this person played second to Shedlock; and not to Shedlockalone, but to every one else. So excessive was his modesty, thathe had never been known to act on an opinion of his own, and, ifhe did so act, he kept the matter a profound secret. To hear himspeak, one would imagine, on a first acquaintance, that he wasincapable of knowing anything from his own observation, or ofdoing anything at his own prompture. It was always “worthy MasterThis,” by his account, that told him so-and-so, and “honestMaster That” that suggested such a thing. He carried his modestyso far, in all outward appearance, that he would not exercisehis own judgment on the most common occasions. Such a neighbourmight pursue his trade unfairly; he could not say: it was true,indeed, that gentle Master Chatter, who was said to have goodopportunities of knowing, had told him it was so; but he couldform no opinion on the matter himself. Another neighbour washanged for murder: the place of execution, over the city-gaol,was opposite to his window, and the gibbet and swinging corpseliterally stared him in the face; but he only knew of theoccurrence from honest Master Pry. He never interfered with anyone; he could hardly be said, indeed, to understand his ownbusiness, much less be acquainted with that of others; and, bythose who esteemed themselves shrewd and knowing, he was lookedupon as a harmless but irreclaimable fool.
Notwithstanding this, Master Craftall had raised himself, someway or other, from an obscure station, and very limited means,to be a partner in the chief firm in Exeter. His lean, ungainlyfigure, and hard features, though the last were hardly ever freefrom a quiet smile, affecting benevolence and equanimity, mighthave been a disadvantage to him in another walk of life; but, inthat of commerce, they had formed no impediment to his progress,and he plodded his way to wealth unobserved, without excitingenmity, or awaking esteem.
Such was the person who received Sir Walter Raleigh, with one ofhis blandest smiles, at the door of his countinghouse, on themorning after his visit to Bethlehem Hall. Stepping out from thedoor, he assisted the knight to dismount, and then, deliveringhis horse to the care of his groom, invited him to pass to theinterior. There Sir Walter found Shedlock, and Hardscrew, thelawyer; and after a brief greeting, these persons proceeded, bypaying him over the stipulated sum, to bring their transactionwith him to a close.
Their business effected, Sir Walter was about to take his leave,when Craftall, turning round from an adjacent desk, from which hecould see and hear all that passed, interposed.
“Doth worthy Master Shedlock guess truly, good Sir Walter,” hesaid, in a silvery tone, “that thou art sending out a ship toCarolina?”
“That does he, Master Craftall,” answered Sir Walter. “I amsending two ships thither.”
“Wherefore askest thou this?” inquired Shedlock.
“I have it from gentle Master Chatter,” replied Craftall, in thesame silvery tone, “that thou hast just apprehended an escapedfelon, a runaway from the plantations; and sweet Master Pry, whowas by when it was told me, thought the knave should be againsent to the plantations, if occasion should serve.”
“Verily, Master Pry thought well,” observed Shedlock.
“If the man be truly a runaway,” said Sir Walter, “and of an ablebody, he will be right welcome; for we have but few labourers.”
“The harvest truly is great, but the labourers be few,” remarkedShedlock.
“I know not if he be a runaway,” said Craftall; “but worthyMaster Chatter, who is reported to be well informed on suchmatters, so named him to me.”
“Master Chatter named him aright,” observed Shedlock. “Moreover,he is of an able body, and, in all things fitting, well endowed.”
“We will have him aboard at once,” said Sir Walter. “I purposeto despatch my own ship with the morrow, and she may tarry forthe other, which is a hired one, at Carolina.”
Shedlock’s small eyes, which hitherto had been bent on the table,were raised up at this moment, and emitted a gleam of intensesatisfaction.
“Verily, ’tis the resolve of wisdom,” he said, as if to himself.
“Well, I will leave it to thee, Master Shedlock,” remarked SirWalter, “to see that the knave be handed over to my captain. Andlet it be done this even, Sir Sheriff, an’ it please thee.”
“This even, or to-morrow, as thou wilt,” answered Shedlock. “Heis in Topsham Gaol, near the Quay; and thy two ships, methinks,lie in Topsham Harbour; so he may be moved at thy convenience.”
“Be it this even, then,” said Sir Walter.
“Verily, I will give thee a note to the gaoler,” returnedShedlock, “directing him, on the receipt thereof, to deliver theknave into thy charge at once.”
Sir Walter, anxious to secure the reputed convict, expressed hisapproval of such an arrangement, and Shedlock hastened to carryit out. Having written the note, he handed it over to Sir Walter,and that individual, who had now no further business with him,and was heartily weary of his company, thereupon took his leave,and departed.
His groom waited without with his horse, and, quickly mounting,Sir Walter bade him attend him to Topsham.
Topsham, the port of Exeter, was a small straggling town, situateon the estuary of the Exe. It was only five miles distant, andthough the road, owing to a recent copious rain, was somewhatheavy, and their horses had that morning been ridden many miles,they passed along at a quick pace, and soon entered the principalstreet.
At that point of their journey, Sir Walter espied a personapproaching, in company with three sailors, whom he recognised asthe lieutenant, or chief mariner, of his favourite ship; and hecalled to him to stop.
“Ho, Master Halyard!” he cried, drawing up his horse.
The person addressed immediately came to a halt, and then,looking round, let his eye fall full on Sir Walter’s face. Afterhe had thus surveyed his features, he raised his hand to the brimof a very broad tarpaulin hat; and the three sailors who werewith him, and who, on his coming to a halt, had ranged themselvesin his rear, instantly performed the same evolution. Havingcaught a good hold of the brim of his hat, the lieutenant pulledhis head forward, as if he intended to make a bow; and the threesailors, as in the first instance, followed his example.
“Ay, ay, Sir!” cried the lieutenant.
“Ay, ay, Sir!” cried the three sailors.
“Is your captain aboard?” asked Sir Walter, with a smile.
“I’faith, no, Sir,” answered the lieutenant. “About a weekagone, when we had set all taught aboard, he started on a cruiseinland. He hath not shown his colours here since.”
“When doth he come back?” inquired Sir Walter, somewhatdisappointed.
“That know I not, Sir,” replied the lieutenant. “But he hath lefta parcel aboard for your honour, and his bearings, no doubt, betherein set down.”
“We will aboard together, then,” said Sir Walter, “and seehow we stand. But first, Master Halyard, an’ it suit with thyconvenience, we’ll bear down on the town-gaol, and take in chargea prisoner I have there.”
The lieutenant, though he had no wish to be brought in contactwith a landsman, such as the prisoner would most probably prove,readily acquiesced in his proposal; and Sir Walter set forward,at a leisurely pace, for the specified locality, followed by hisservant and the mariners. On arriving at the gaol, he drew up hishorse, and, resigning the rein to his servant, leaped to theground, and inflicted a loud knock on the gaol-door.
Sir Walter was still knocking when the door was pulled open; andthe gaoler, scowling like a thunder-cloud, presented himself inthe doorway. Shedlock’s note, and, what he regarded as much, SirWalter’s evident quality, seemed to propitiate his favour, andhis countenance somewhat brightened as he invited the whole partyto enter.
The prisoner was confined in an inner cell; and, therefore, itwas necessary, before they could proceed thither, to procure alight. This, however, was speedily done, and the gaoler then ledthe way to the cell.
The door of the cell was low and narrow, and, consequently, theyhad to enter singly, bending their heads as they passed under thethreshold. The gaoler en
tered first, and, stepping on one side,turned round to the door again, and held up the light to SirWalter. Thus aided, Sir Walter distinguished the floor of thecell, and ventured to enter.
As he alighted on the hard floor, he took the light from thegaoler, and, holding it out before him, glanced round in quest ofthe prisoner. The latter, undisturbed by their visit, was sittingon a heap of straw, in the furthest corner; but, from the gloomthat hung around, Sir Walter was a full moment before he couldmake him out. When he did distinguish him, he gave a sudden start.
“What! no! yes!” he exclaimed; “’tis my trusty friend, HildebrandClifford.”
And, dropping the light, he made a spring forward, and seized theprisoner by both his hands.