CHAPTER X.
THE RETURN FROM THE VAULT.--THE ALARM, AND THE SEARCH AROUND THE HALL.
It so happened that George and Henry Bannerworth, along with Mr.Marchdale, had just reached the gate which conducted into the garden ofthe mansion when they all were alarmed by the report of a pistol. Amidthe stillness of the night, it came upon them with so sudden a shock,that they involuntarily paused, and there came from the lips of each anexpression of alarm.
"Good heavens!" cried George, "can that be Flora firing at anyintruder?"
"It must be," cried Henry; "she has in her possession the only weaponsin the house."
Mr. Marchdale turned very pale, and trembled slightly, but he did notspeak.
"On, on," cried Henry; "for God's sake, let us hasten on."
As he spoke, he cleared the gate at a bound, and at a terrific pace hemade towards the house, passing over beds, and plantations, and flowersheedlessly, so that he went the most direct way to it.
Before, however, it was possible for any human speed to accomplish evenhalf of the distance, the report of the other shot came upon his ears,and he even fancied he heard the bullet whistle past his head intolerably close proximity. This supposition gave him a clue to thedirection at all events from whence the shots proceeded, otherwise heknew not from which window they were fired, because it had not occurredto him, previous to leaving home, to inquire in which room Flora and hismother were likely to be seated waiting his return.
He was right as regarded the bullet. It was that winged messenger ofdeath which had passed his head in such very dangerous proximity, andconsequently he made with tolerable accuracy towards the open windowfrom whence the shots had been fired.
The night was not near so dark as it had been, although even yet it wasvery far from being a light one, and he was soon enabled to see thatthere was a room, the window of which was wide open, and lights burningon the table within. He made towards it in a moment, and entered it. Tohis astonishment, the first objects he beheld were Flora and a stranger,who was now supporting her in his arms. To grapple him by the throat wasthe work of a moment, but the stranger cried aloud in a voice whichsounded familiar to Harry,--
"Good God, are you all mad?"
Henry relaxed his hold, and looked in his face.
"Gracious heavens, it is Mr. Holland!" he said.
"Yes; did you not know me?"
Henry was bewildered. He staggered to a seat, and, in doing so, he sawhis mother, stretched apparently lifeless upon the floor. To raise herwas the work of a moment, and then Marchdale and George, who hadfollowed him as fast as they could, appeared at the open window.
Such a strange scene as that small room now exhibited had never beenequalled in Bannerworth Hall. There was young Mr. Holland, of whommention has already been made, as the affianced lover of Flora,supporting her fainting form. There was Henry doing equal service to hismother; and on the floor lay the two pistols, and one of the candleswhich had been upset in the confusion; while the terrified attitudes ofGeorge and Mr. Marchdale at the window completed the strange-lookingpicture.
"What is this--oh! what has happened?" cried George.
"I know not--I know not," said Henry. "Some one summon the servants; Iam nearly mad."
Mr. Marchdale at once rung the bell, for George looked so faint and illas to be incapable of doing so; and he rung it so loudly and soeffectually, that the two servants who had been employed suddenly uponthe others leaving came with much speed to know what was the matter.
"See to your mistress," said Henry. "She is dead, or has fainted. ForGod's sake, let who can give me some account of what has caused all thisconfusion here."
"Are you aware, Henry," said Marchdale, "that a stranger is present inthe room?"
He pointed to Mr. Holland as he spoke, who, before Henry could reply,said,--
"Sir, I may be a stranger to you, as you are to me, and yet no strangerto those whose home this is."
"No, no," said Henry, "you are no stranger to us, Mr. Holland, but arethrice welcome--none can be more welcome. Mr. Marchdale, this is MrHolland, of whom you have heard me speak."
"I am proud to know you, sir," said Marchdale.
"Sir, I thank you," replied Holland, coldly.
It will so happen; but, at first sight, it appeared as if those twopersons had some sort of antagonistic feeling towards each other, whichthreatened to prevent effectually their ever becoming intimate friends.
The appeal of Henry to the servants to know if they could tell him whathad occurred was answered in the negative. All they knew was that theyhad heard two shots fired, and that, since then, they had remained wherethey were, in a great fright, until the bell was rung violently. Thiswas no news at all and, therefore, the only chance was, to waitpatiently for the recovery of the mother, or of Flora, from one or theother of whom surely some information could be at once then procured.
Mrs. Bannerworth was removed to her own room, and so would Flora havebeen; but Mr. Holland, who was supporting her in his arms, said,--
"I think the air from the open window is recovering her, and it islikely to do so. Oh, do not now take her from me, after so long anabsence. Flora, Flora, look up; do you not know me? You have not yetgiven me one look of acknowledgment. Flora, dear Flora!"
The sound of his voice seemed to act as the most potent of charms inrestoring her to consciousness; it broke through the death-like trancein which she lay, and, opening her beautiful eyes, she fixed them uponhis face, saying,--
"Yes, yes; it is Charles--it is Charles."
She burst into a hysterical flood of tears, and clung to him like someterrified child to its only friend in the whole wide world.
"Oh, my dear friends," cried Charles Holland, "do not deceive me; hasFlora been ill?"
"We have all been ill," said George.
"All ill?"
"Ay, and nearly mad," exclaimed Harry.
Holland looked from one to the other in surprise, as well he might, norwas that surprise at all lessened when Flora made an effort to extricateherself from his embrace, as she exclaimed,--
"You must leave me--you must leave me, Charles, for ever! Oh! never,never look upon my face again!"
"I--I am bewildered," said Charles.
"Leave me, now," continued Flora; "think me unworthy; think what youwill, Charles, but I cannot, I dare not, now be yours."
"Is this a dream?"
"Oh, would it were. Charles, if we had never met, you would behappier--I could not be more wretched."
"Flora, Flora, do you say these words of so great cruelty to try mylove?"
"No, as Heaven is my judge, I do not."
"Gracious Heaven, then, what do they mean?"
Flora shuddered, and Henry, coming up to her, took her hand in histenderly, as he said,--
"Has it been again?"
"It has."
"You shot it?"
"I fired full upon it, Henry, but it fled."
"It did--fly?"
"It did, Henry, but it will come again--it will be sure to come again."
"You--you hit it with the bullet?" interposed Mr. Marchdale. "Perhapsyou killed it?"
"I think I must have hit it, unless I am mad."
Charles Holland looked from one to the other with such a look of intensesurprise, that George remarked it, and said at once to him,--
"Mr. Holland, a full explanation is due to you, and you shall have it."
"You seem the only rational person here," said Charles. "Pray what is itthat everybody calls '_it_?'"
"Hush--hush!" said Henry; "you shall hear soon, but not at present."
"Hear me, Charles," said Flora. "From this moment mind, I do release youfrom every vow, from every promise made to me of constancy and love; andif you are wise, Charles, and will be advised, you will now this momentleave this house never to return to it."
"No," said Charles--"no; by Heaven I love you, Flora! I have come to sayagain all that in another clime I said with joy to you. When I forgetyou, let what tr
ouble may oppress you, may God forget me, and my ownright hand forget to do me honest service."
"Oh! no more--no more!" sobbed Flora.
"Yes, much more, if you will tell me of words which shall be strongerthan others in which to paint my love, my faith, and my constancy."
"Be prudent," said Henry. "Say no more."
"Nay, upon such a theme I could speak for ever. You may cast me off,Flora; but until you tell me you love another, I am yours till thedeath, and then with a sanguine hope at my heart that we shall meetagain, never, dearest, to part."
Flora sobbed bitterly.
"Oh!" she said, "this is the unkindest blow of all--this is worse thanall."
"Unkind!" echoed Holland.
"Heed her not," said Henry; "she means not you."
"Oh, no--no!" she cried. "Farewell, Charles--dear Charles."
"Oh, say that word again!" he exclaimed, with animation. "It is thefirst time such music has met my ears."
"It must be the last."
"No, no--oh, no."
"For your own sake I shall be able now, Charles, to show you that Ireally loved you."
"Not by casting me from you?"
"Yes, even so. That will be the way to show you that I love you."
She held up her hands wildly, as she added, in an excited voice,--
"The curse of destiny is upon me! I am singled out as one lost andaccursed. Oh, horror--horror! would that I were dead!"
Charles staggered back a pace or two until he came to the table, atwhich he clutched for support. He turned very pale as he said, in afaint voice,--
"Is--is she mad, or am I?"
"Tell him I am mad, Henry," cried Flora. "Do not, oh, do not make hislonely thoughts terrible with more than that. Tell him I am mad."
"Come with me," whispered Henry to Holland. "I pray you come with me atonce, and you shall know all."
"I--will."
"George, stay with Flora for a time. Come, come, Mr. Holland, you ought,and you shall know all; then you can come to a judgment for yourself.This way, sir. You cannot, in the wildest freak of your imagination,guess that which I have now to tell you."
Never was mortal man so utterly bewildered by the events of the lasthour of his existence as was now Charles Holland, and truly he mightwell be so. He had arrived in England, and made what speed he could tothe house of a family whom he admired for their intelligence, their highculture, and in one member of which his whole thoughts of domestichappiness in this world were centered, and he found nothing butconfusion, incoherence, mystery, and the wildest dismay.
Well might he doubt if he were sleeping or waking--well might he ask ifhe or they were mad.
And now, as, after a long, lingering look of affection upon the pale,suffering face of Flora, he followed Henry from the room, his thoughtswere busy in fancying a thousand vague and wild imaginations withrespect to the communication which was promised to be made to him.
But, as Henry had truly said to him, not in the wildest freak of hisimagination could he conceive of any thing near the terrible strangenessand horror of that which he had to tell him, and consequently he foundhimself closeted with Henry in a small private room, removed from thedomestic part of the hall, to the full in as bewildered a state as hehad been from the first.