CHAPTER IV.
"But if the rogue have gone a cup too far, Left out the linchpin."--_Progress of Error._
We must now shift the scene to the ancestral residence of the De Veres.Dun Edin Towers, or as it was called, for brevity's sake, The Towers,stood on a slight eminence at the foot of the Lammermoor Hills. On threesides it was bounded by the densest woods, whilst in front an amplepark, dotted over with fine trees, stretched downwards till it ended ina bosky dell, the resort of woodcocks, pheasants, and all kinds of game;at the bottom of this dell a mountain torrent gushed amid the stones,now lost in rocks rough with brachen, now bursting over the sunnyshingle, and revealing to the practised eye myriads of trout gailyshooting past. After heavy rains, or when the snows on the hill began tothaw, the bubbling rivulet changed its character, and "tumbling brownthe burn came down, and roared frae bank to brae." The castle was itselfa large quadrangular pile, with four lofty towers at the four corners:from these towers it took its name, and as they peeped above the woodsthey served for a landmark to the country for many a league round. Theround towers proclaimed its Norman architecture, and the building wasnow hoary with age, but its masonry seemed solid as when it was firstraised, and having outlived its lords for so many ages it seemed asthough it would serve not only as the home, but the tomb of its presentoccupant; for in one tower was the long last dwelling-place of the DeVeres. Partly covered over with ivy, its buttresses formed an asylum forowls and bats, which from time immemorial had built their nests there,and they seemed as much the rightful possessors as any of its humanmasters.
My readers must cross with me the drawbridge, swinging, on its hoarselysounding chains, over the deep moat that surrounded the castle, andpassing the frowning gateway, under the old portcullis, along thewinding passage, with loopholes pierced on either side, we enter theample courtyard paved with stone. In its centre stood an ancientsun-dial. Opposite us is the doorway, and as our story leads us to theinmates of this hold we will continue our journey up the broad flight ofstairs, and, sounding the bell which, in conformity with ancient usage,was still hung there, wait till the massive oaken door with its clampsof brass is opened, and discloses the entrance hall, a small square roomfull of ancient armour, intermingled with trophies of the chase. Abovethe door are crossed two pennons, which had been wrung from the Moslemsin the days of the Crusades. All round spears, battle-axes, and lancesof the olden time, with whole suits of chain and steel armour, hung sideby side with more modern implements of war, guns--swords, pistols, andbayonets, that had fought well in battle fierce. Stags' antlers, boars'tusks, and grinning heads of wolves and foxes peeped forth here andthere; and, instead of mats, tigers' and bears' skins were stretched onthe polished oak floor. All of these were bequeathed by the ancestors ofthe present family, or collected by themselves. Strange scenes had beenhere enacted, if tales told the truth. In the centre of the room was adark stain on the oaken planks--the stain of blood--a stain blood onlycan wipe away.
Opening next a door of carved oak, we find ourselves in the great hall.It is upwards of ninety feet in length, and about the middle on eitherside is an ancient fireplace, so large that a family might occupyeither, seated round the log fire on the stone seats. Above each hung afine picture. One was of a beautiful young woman in the dress of anabbess, wandering with naked feet through dense woods--this was Augustade Vere. Opposite, was the portrait of the stern Sir Ralph. From thesetwo pictures an endless line of family portraits was continued to theend of the hall either way. There were many winning faces, none more sothan the two last, pictures of the Ladies Edith and Florence. There weremany handsome and manly faces, none more so than the threelast--pictures of the present lord, and his two brothers. There was apeculiarity in this picture gallery--can any of my readers guess what itwas? There was no old face from Sir Ralph downwards. They were allyoung--all in their early prime--yet all but five were laid low.
We must not delay here too long, but ascend the principal staircase, andcrossing an almost endless corridor, with doors ranged on each side, atlast finish our route by opening the door of the boudoir, in which thefamily usually assembled after breakfast. There are three members onlypresent. From his picture we recognise the young Earl, possessor of themost famed name, and broadest lands in the kingdom. We see the samelofty mien--the artist has but faintly caught--the same noble outline offeatures, and dark brown hair, curled close as the tendrils of the vineover his broad forehead. His air is dignified and high, he looks what heis, and yet there is about his face something which tells us he has allthe love of his race for the field, and his look does not belie hischaracter; never was he happier than when he had flown the pomps of acourt in which he shone a star of the first magnitude, and forgotanxious cares in the calm retreats of The Towers--wound the viewhalloo, and was first in at the death. The Earl was fully six feet inheight, and stout and strong in proportion. He is now standing before ablazing wood fire, and close beside him stands a fair-haired girl ofperhaps fifteen years. Her melting blue eyes and complexion of dazzlingpurity, lit up with the chastest and sweetest of smiles, gave an air ofpeculiar interest to her face. To look at Lady Florence was to love her.How dim, how earthly is the picture now, when before us stands thebright original. Her sister, the proud, romantic Lady Edith, remains tobe described; she is deeply interested in some book over which she isbent, her dark brown hair and hazel eyes lend an air of pleasingmelancholy to her face; she has all the proud hauteur of an Englishbeauty, and carries birth and majesty in every movement. She was threeyears older than her sister.
"I suppose we are too late for church this morning," said Lady Edith,glancing a moment off her book.
"Oh! much too late; but I have ordered the carriage to be here in plentyof time for the afternoon service," answered her brother.
"Are you going, Edie?" said Lady Florence.
"I suppose so; you are going too, are you not?"
"Oh dear, yes; I do so long to see the wonderful pew; do you think,Wentworth, it will be altered all nicely now?"
"I fancy so; Taylor knows me too well now to neglect my orders again.Are you going?" continued Lord Wentworth, addressing a young man whothen entered, followed by the Marquis of Arranmore.
This was Captain de Vere; to look at him one could not help calling himhandsome: his dark eye, and closely-cut black hair gave him a militaryair--a dashing, soldierly appearance, and his height, which exceededthe Earl's slightly, combined with a splendid figure, gave him a finemanly mien; but there was something in his face cruel and unrelenting;his fierce moustache, and arched nose were those of a Roman, and in hiseye there was the twinkle that told the libertine;--his handsomeness wasthat of a Nero, not so in its true significance.
"Going where?" he answered abruptly.
"To church," replied the Earl.
"See you d----d first," was the curt reply. "Nor will Arranmore; he andI are going to the barracks to look out Musgrave."
"Oh! John, you shouldn't swear so," said Lady Florence; "but where isFrank? perhaps he will come."
"How the devil should I know--I am not Frank's keeper?" answered theCaptain, showing how little he cared for the reproof.
"Frank is in the dell," said Lord Arranmore, "looking after somewoodcocks the keeper had told him about."
"A hopeful set you all seem," said the good-natured Earl; "however, thisis Liberty Hall, every one to his own mind, and no questions asked."
"But won't you come, Arranmore?" said his betrothed.
The Marquis looked doubtful.
"No, no, that won't do, Edith," said the Captain, interrupting; "you arenot going to get round Arranmore, and rob me of my companion; you don'tcatch us darkening your accursed church doors. Come along, old fellow,"pulling the Marquis by the sleeve, "leave them to read sermons."
"You should be ashamed to say so," answered Lady Edith, but her voicewas lost in the clap of the door, as the irreligious young officer wentoff with his friend, coolly whistling "_Deil tak' the minister_," an oldScotch song. "Order two
horses, Andrew, and tell Philip we shan't wanthim--be quick, you old rascal."
"Yees, Captain," said the old privileged butler; "but, Lord bless us, hesuld need wings wha wad do your orders, and I am but an auld man yeken."
"Then send James, and be d----d to you!"
Leaving these two to ride where they listed, we shall follow LordWentworth and his sisters to church, accompanied, however, by Frank, ashe was always called, a young man about seventeen, just preparing tojoin the 60th, and a passionate sportsman.
"There is a fall of woodcocks in the round wood above the dell--threekeepers saw them, so as I can't shoot to-day, I will go to church foronce in a way to kill time," said Frank, getting into the carriage. Wefear his brother's example was not doing Frank much good.
Mr. Lennox was beginning to despair of their coming at all that day; hehalf wished they would, and half not, as he felt awkward about facingthe man who had publicly found fault with him the previous afternoon.Just as he was about to leave the plate and enter the church, a grandcarriage, drawn by four horses, drew up. His fears were instantlydispelled by the frank reception he met with, and forgetting all thepast, he blandly smiled as he ushered the illustrious visitors to theirpew.
On Sunday morning the Ravensworths, as usual, assembled in their seat atSt. John's, and found everything had been altered to the letter of thelaw in the square pew, now rather conspicuous from its neat andcomfortable appearance than its grandeur. A good deal of whispering wenton amongst the near neighbours whether the family would come or not. Themorning prayers however passed through and no member of the familyappeared; and amongst others Johnny and Ellen were beginning to augur asimilar disappointment in the afternoon, when Mr. Lennox, strutting asproudly as a peacock before our friends, appeared, and immediatelyfollowing the two ladies and the Earl and Frank. The ladies werehandsomely but quietly dressed in black silk; but as they arrangedthemselves in their pew every eye, from the Reverend Mr. Power to thehumblest school girl, was turned upon them, and many an epithet--such as"bonny," "sonsy," and the like, applied by the lower orders to the twobeauties, who certainly verified L'Estrange's words, that they mighthave set the Thames on fire.
"How lovely!" whispered Ellen, to her fiance.
As the service proceeded, Lord Wentworth very naturally looked up to thefirst seat in the gallery, where the Ravensworths sat, as it directlyfaced him; at once recognising Mr. Ravensworth and Johnny, he lookedalong to where Ellen sat, and there his glance seemed stayed. Ellen feltherself blush as their eyes met, and she looked down, not before seeingLord Wentworth whisper something to Frank; and as he then looked up shefelt sure she had been noticed. This was partially true, but what LordWentworth had whispered to Frank was that young L'Estrange was there,and it was at him, and not Ellen, that the latter had gazed. It sohappened that the two families met coming out of church, and the Earlshook hands with Mr. Ravensworth, telling him the pew was all he desirednow; he then patted Johnny on the shoulder, calling him "young Nimrod,"in allusion to the day before, and telling him he must come some day andget a riding lesson at the Towers. Johnny was much elated, and politelyhastened to hold open the carriage-door for the young ladies; for thishe was rewarded by a dignified bow from Lady Edith, and a sweet "Oh!thank you," from her sister. Poor Johnny's heart, young as it was, wasno longer his, the fair Lady Florence had stolen it! Whilst he was thusengaged Frank had renewed acquaintance with L'Estrange, and Ellen hadonce more confronted Lord Wentworth. She had never seen him so nearbefore; he actually brushed against her dress, and more than ever shefelt her peace of mind was gone. As it was a fine day the carriage drovealong the sands once, before returning home, and Ellen again saw theEarl; this time she was sure he noticed her, and again she felt her facecrimson.
"What a pretty girl that is," said Lord Wentworth, addressing hisbrother.
"Very pretty. I had no idea our church boasted such a beauty; it will besomething to go there for, she sits right opposite us."
"I wonder who she is, I fancy a sister of my little friend's. I see alikeness."
"It's more than I do, but I will ask L'Estrange who she is to-morrow: heseems uncommonly sweet on her--you know I asked him to come and have abang at the woodcocks."
Things looked brighter for Ellen when she reached home. L'Estrange hadtold her of his invitation to the Towers; she might yet get acquaintedwith the De Veres through him; and yet her heart revolted from the idea,it was like slaying the eagle with its own feather.
Early next morning L'Estrange started on his shooting expedition, andanxiously did Ellen watch for his return, which did not take place tillpast eleven o'clock at night. He had stayed to dine after an excellentday's sport, and had plenty to tell about; he had brought, too,abundance of game, far more than fell to his gun, as also a lovelybouquet of hot-house flowers from Lady Edith for the young lady of thehouse. Oh! how Ellen prized them! with what haste she placed them inwater! and when at last they faded, how she prayed the friendship, ofwhich this seemed a prelude, if it came, might not fade away as fleetly!During the week L'Estrange again went shooting, and took with him a notefrom Ellen, thanking Lady Edith for her kind and beautiful present. NextSaturday, about one o'clock in the day, Captain de Vere, accompanied byhis inseparable friend Arranmore, might have been seen in a tandem (theCaptain never drove anything else), proceeding at the dangerous pace healways drove towards Edinburgh. As they neared Seaview a bright ideastruck the Captain; this was to call for little Ravensworth and give hima drive: he was not altogether without hope too he might catch a sightof the beauty he had heard so much of.
"And at any rate, Arranmore, we can pump the youngster well, and get hername and so forth, as we forgot to ask L'Estrange--will have lots toquiz Wentworth about too. By G---- it's a good idea, I'm d----d if Idon't do it," he exclaimed, as he drew up the horses with a round turnat the gate of Seaview. Tossing the reins to Arranmore the Captainalighted (as he never could be bored with a servant on his trap) andrang the bell. As soon as Mr. Ravensworth's little page appeared he thusaccosted him--
"Is young Nimrod at home?"
"Who, my lord?" said the little boy, thinking he must be titled too.
"Don't stare like a wild cat, you little fool. Is young Nimrod athome?--little Ravensworth, of course!"
"Mr. Johnny is, if that's him."
"Egad! that's him at last. Tell him I want him."
The frightened lad stayed not a moment, but hurried to inform Johnny,who was then at luncheon, that another great lord wanted him.
"Me; I'm coming;" and Johnny hurried down to see who it could be.
"Halloo! what the deuce have you kept me so long for?"
"I beg your pardon, my lord, I was as--"
"D--n your eyes! I'm not a lord; call me Captain, that will do; butnever mind, jump up if you would like a ride."
Without attempting a reply, Johnny at once proceeded to scramble upbehind; and he had hardly done so ere the Captain drove off at hisbreak-neck pace; it almost made Johnny giddy to see at what a rate theground spun away from under him.
"How do you like it, my little man?" said Lord Arranmore, turning round.
"Very much, _sir_, thank you," said Johnny, timidly.
"By the Lord, you are most unhappy in your ideas," roared the Captain;"you lorded me who am nobody, and sirred him who is every inch aMarquis; and that's saying a good deal."
A roar of laughter greeted Johnny as he asked pardon; and he nowperceived, for the first time, the immense proportions of the Marquis,who was an Irishman, and a perfect giant in height and size.
Edinburgh was quickly reached; and, after a few commissions at thegunmaker's and saddler's had been executed, they lunched at a pump,which was the Captain's favourite resort, where he was as good as hisword, and pumped his protege well. They then turned their backs on theCastle once more, and were proceeding down Princes Street towards homeat a furious rate when, to the Captain's horror, who thus knew his fate,one of the wheels was seen running merrily in front. Ere he could framethe awful oat
h that hung on his lips, down came the whole concern with aloud crash! The trap was turned completely over, sending its occupantsflying in different ways.
The Captain was shot against a stout gentleman, who, though he broke theintruder's fall, was not a little shaken by it. Arranmore was hurled inthe front of a young ladies' school walking quietly along, where heoccasioned great confusion among the girls, who fancied, in theirterror, as they gazed on his colossal limbs, a Titan had fallen from thesky. Johnny was shot right before the leaders of a coach which went offere he could hardly roll himself on one side. Beyond a few bruises noone was materially hurt.
A scene followed such as Johnny had never before witnessed. The Captainwas shaking hands with the old gentleman he had spilt, and swearinggreat guns, intermingled with roars of laughter at the old man'sexpense, who could by no means treat the affair as "such a joke," as theCaptain called it. Arranmore was in great wrath, and swore loudly too,fancying he had been made a fool of, and anathematizing the inquisitivecrowd gathered thickly round.
Meantime the spirited horses had broken their traces and run off; theywere, however, caught before the High School, and led back in triumph. Anew linchpin, the loss of which had caused the accident, was readilyprocured, the machine, as the Scotch say, "righted;" and, shaking thedust off their clothes, the trio soon mounted on high again. Lashing hiswhip amongst the throng, the young Jehu once more assumed the reins, anddrove off at the same dangerous rate as if nothing had happened.
As they neared Johnny's home, the Captain informed him, to his extremeterror, that he had better drop off as he passed, as _he_ was late andcouldn't stop for him. Frightened as he was at the proposal, which theCaptain made with the coolest indifference, fancying Johnny could dowhat his brother's tigers were accustomed to execute with suchnimbleness, he could not summon courage to tell him he was afraid, so hesat still, trembling, and hoping a miracle would relieve him from hissituation. However, no miracle came, and Johnny was still there afterthey had passed Seaview a hundred yards.
"You little fool! why didn't you drop?"
"I was afraid. Don't be angry, please."
"Afraid! Lord help you! then I'll slow;" and he checked the horses intoa fast trot. "Now's your chance; off with you."
Johnny dared not refuse a second time, so with a heavy heart he lethimself drop off. A complete somersault was the immediate result, and ashe rose from his discomfiture and shook off the dust, he heard theCaptain's laugh now far off. He hastened home and recounted theadventures of the day.
"I saw the spill," said L'Estrange, "from the Club windows. And so youhad to drop, Johnny! Aha! so like De Vere,--he is such a mad-cap; but Ifear a bad bird, too."
Johnny knew not whether to like the Captain or not.
On his arrival at the Towers the Captain made his brothers laugh too atJohnny's expense; but steadily refused to tell Miss Ravensworth's nameunless the Earl promised to pay his Christmas bills; no sinecure ifreport said true. However, he hiccoughed it out that night over histoddy in the smoking-room, and was much surprised when his brother knewit next day, wondering how he had found it out, and accusing Arranmoreas a traitor of course.