CHAPTER XXVI.
It was near midnight; all was quiet in the ch?teau; sleep seemed tohave fallen upon all eyes but those of the sentries upon the walls.The wind sighed amongst the towers and pinnacles; the old oakpanneling creaked; and every now and then the screech-owl whirled withits shrill scream past the windows; but those were the only soundsthat disturbed the deep silence of night, while the priest, in thechapel, watched the body of the dead man, according to his promise.The building itself was dark and gloomy; the tapers on the altar casttheir rays but a little distance beyond the coffin; and the lightfaded away gradually into the deep obscurity of the other parts of thechapel, while the large cluster pillars and the rich, sculpturedgroins of the arches, caught the beams faintly as they darted towardsthe vaulted roof, or strove to penetrate the aisles. It was a solemnscene, and might well fill the breast with thoughts high and grave.There lay the dead: the dust ready for the earth, the spirit returnedto God who gave it. There stood the altar, raised for the worship ofthat God, and bearing aloft in the full light, the symbol of thesalvation which was purchased by the blood of His Son. Death,immortality, and redemption, were prominent and clear before the eye,while all round was obscurity, like the misty darkness of mortal fatewhich wraps us, in this strange world wherein we live.
Father Walter had watched through the preceding night, and had feltless than he did at present; he had done it as a duty, as the merefulfilment of a promise. He was familiar with the deathbed, thecoffin, and grave; and as usual, they had lost much of theirimpressiveness. But now for some reason,--perhaps that his own heartwas not well at ease,--he felt sensations of awe and gloom creep overhim. He knelt and murmured prayers before the altar; he went throughsome of the ceremonial observances of his religion; but they now gavehim no relief. The words fell cold and meaningless from his lips; thesign of the cross, the genuflexion, and the counted beads, seemed forthe first time all dull forms, having no reference to the heart.
Then he came forward and gazed upon the coffin; and memory recalledmany an event connected with him who now lay so still within. He hadknown him for many years: he recollected him in his youth, and in hisprime, and memory ran back over the long chain of linked hours,pausing here and there upon the brighter spots, till the naturalaffections of the heart--which not even the cold philosophy of areligion which bars its priesthood from all the more kindlyassociations of human life, can ever totally extinguish--werereawakened by the thoughts, and some of the fresh and generousimpulses of earlier years rose up, and brought a tear into his eye.
Again he knelt down and prayed; but it seemed that, in the act ofprayer, a voice from the cross above the altar reached his heartmournfully and reproachfully. He thought it asked him if, in thecounsels he was giving, if in the deeds he was sanctioning, he was atrue follower of the guileless and holy Saviour, of the pure, thetrue, the meek, who showed God to be truth and love, and falsehood,deceit and wrong, to be the offspring of the arch-enemy. He coveredhis face with his hands as if the All-seeing eye were more especiallyupon him; and then starting up he murmured, "I wish I had taken nopart in this." With a quick and agitated step, he paced the nave ofthe chapel; and, as he did so, half spoken words betrayed thetroublous anxiety of his soul.
"I wish I had not done it," he said. "Who can tell what may be theresult?--They are not to be trusted,--neither mother nor son,--dark,dark and deceitful!--Even to me they cannot be sincere. De Montigni isan angel of light compared to them.--Would to heaven he had notembraced the party of the heretic!--and this poor girl, why should shebe tortured so? Can I not stop it even now?--He is to go thither atone o'clock.--What may be the result?--No, no he will never dare!" andwith agitated pace, again he trod and retrod the whole length of thechapel; and then, after pausing and gazing once more upon the coffin,he suddenly turned, and opening the great door, issued out into thecourt. Entering the house, he crossed the stone hall, passed throughthe corridor beyond, and approached the foot of the staircase whichled to his own apartments, and those of Mademoiselle d'Albret. Butthere he paused; and, laying his hand upon his brow, mused for severalminutes.
"No," he said at length, "No, not now. I will return at the verytime;--and yet I must not stop him," he added, after a moment's pause."It seems the only chance for insuring this vast property to the sideof the Holy Catholic League. That should be the first question; andyet,--" he paused again, and with a slow step, stopping more than onceto consider, he found his way back to the hall, into which themoonlight was streaming through the open door. On the steps he stoodfor several minutes, gazing up towards the sky, where the fainttwinkling stars looked out, like angels' eyes watching the slumber ofthe world. He thought they might be so, or, at least, that eyes asclear and bright, though hidden from his view, might be even thenhanging over him, and all whom that place contained, and he exclaimed,"Oh may they protect, as well as watch!" and, with a slow step, andhis looks bent upon the ground, he advanced once more to the door ofthe chapel.
One side of the building rested against the outer wall whichsurrounded the ch?teau; and the sentries passed it on their roundabove. Thus, when the priest approached, he heard a step like that ofan armed man, but he did not look up at the sound, though it was notunpleasant to his ear; for the feelings that were in his heart, andthe thoughts which were hurrying through his brain, rendered theproximity of some human being in the dead hours of the night, rather arelief to him than otherwise.
Passing on, however, at a very tardy pace he entered the chapel; and,when he had reached the first column of the six which, on either side,supported the roof, whether there was some noise which roused him fromhis reverie, or whether there was one of those vague and undefinedimpressions on his mind, which we sometimes receive without knowinghow, that he was no longer alone in that dark and gloomy place--hesuddenly paused and raised his eyes; when, between the coffin and thealtar, in the full light of the tapers which stood upon the latter, hebeheld a human figure, standing with the head bent down, and the handsclasped together. It was that of a woman, young and apparentlybeautiful, dressed in black garments, but with the head bare, and theglossy hair reflecting the beams from the altar, so that for aninstant, to the dazzled eyes of the priest, there seemed a sort ofglory round her brow.
He started, and his heart beat quick as, for an instant, he gazed insilent wonder; but his heart beat quicker still when, recovering fromhis surprise, he recognized the beautiful form and features of Helende la Tremblade, his niece.
She had been to him as a child, from her earliest years. On her hadcentred all the affections which he yet permitted to have any powerover him; and, as they were few and confined but to one object, theywere strong and vehement in proportion. So vehement, indeed, werethey, that at times they alarmed him. He fancied it almost sinful,vowed for ever to the service of his God, so to love any mere mortalcreature. Often did he deny himself the delight of seeing her forweeks and months together; and sometimes, when he did see her, hewould put a harsh restraint upon his tenderness, and seem cold andstern, though at other times it would master him completely, and hewould give way to all the deep affection of his heart.
He gazed on her then, as she stood there, with surprise and alarm. Hehad been told, that she was ill; and her face, as he looked upon it,was deadly pale. She moved not, though she must have heard his step;not a limb seemed agitated. He could not even see her bosom heave withthe breath of life. A cold thrill came over him, as with feelingscommon to every one in that day, he asked himself, "Can it be herspirit?--Helen," he said, "Helen!"
A convulsive sob was the only reply; but that was enough; and,advancing with a rapid step, he passed the bier, and stood before her.
With her eyes still bent down upon the ground, with her hands stillclasped together, Helen sunk down upon her knees at his feet. The oldman stretched forth his arms to raise her, but she exclaimedvehemently, "Do not touch me! Do not touch me! I am unworthy that ahand so pure and holy should be laid upon me!"
Walter de la Tremblade recoiled for a mome
nt, and gazed upon her witha look of mute and stern inquiry; but then, moved and softened by allthe agitating feelings of that night, the full flood of tenderness andaffection swept every other emotion away; and casting his arms roundher, he pressed her to his bosom, crying, "Whatever be thy faults,thou art my dead brother's child, thou art my own nurseling lamb, andwoe to any one who has injured thee!"