The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume I Part 30

No answer, of course.

"Stove it in, you blundering old sea-cook!" said another voice, she recognized as Captain de Vere's.

"Easy saying so, but hard doing it, by G--," was the reply.

"You bungler! let me try."

An awful crash followed, which made Ellen almost sicken with fear, but the strong door manfully withstood the charge. Again it was rocked as if by a battering-ram, again it stood the shock; a confused sound of laughter and oaths followed.

"I telled you so; the devil himself could scarce stove yon oaken beams in."

"Fire and furies! what is to be done?--here's a d--d sell--sold by a wench."

"Deil a fear; this way, Captain."

The steps faded away, they were gone. Ellen felt sure she was now safe, at least for a time; though she feared they were gone for sledgehammers to force the door. She threw herself on her knees, and thanked G.o.d for it. It is not wise to be in too great a hurry to return thanks; this Ellen found, for hardly had she thanked Providence for mercies not yet received, than she heard the same footsteps in another part of the room.

In dismay at this return, she glanced to see where the sounds came from.

There was only one door, the windows and fireplace were barred; but Ellen did not know the secrets of her prison-house; behind the arras was a secret door, to which a winding back stair led, and she only sprung from her knees in time to see the tapestry move aside, and from the concealed door three figures enter her sanctuary. It was with a sickness of heart indescribable, but not the less acutely felt by those who cannot tell its horror, that she saw in the three intruders the persons of Captain de Vere, Captain L'Estrange, and old Bill Stacy!

CHAPTER XXIII.

"At night he said--and look, 'tis near * * *

Perhaps even now he climbs the wood-- Fly, fly--though still the west is bright,--

I know him--he'll not wait for night!"

_Lalla Rookh._

However interested our readers may be in the immediate fate of Ellen, it is needful for the continuity of our story to return again to the Towers; and as the shepherd often returns back to seek, and drive on some erring sheep to the flock, so must we often retrograde on our path, to pick up some lost hero, and bring him on till all are again united.

To the study, then, of the Earl let us again bend our eyes, where we left Juana standing at the door. The surprise of the Earl was great, and mingled with it some impatience and anger, at thus seeing one he had once met on far different terms, yet one he had vowed not again to address in his life, standing on the threshold of his door.

"You here!" he exclaimed, frowning, and for the moment forgetting she was there as a messenger, bringing important tidings; "did I not expressly forbid you ever to enter my doors again? Did you not promise you would not? Was it not on this one condition I gave you house and money? You are forgetful, fair donna, let me refresh your memory by telling you you have forfeited them!"

"My Lord, you gave them, and may retake them! I care not for your gold--a tent with love is better than a throne without; it was not thus you spoke to Juana when you tempted, and won her. Remember you then promised nothing should change your love while she lived--she is living still, but where is love?"

"I own my error--I repent my sin; I can do no more. Away, madam, away; I have sworn not to speak to you again on love--I will not perjure myself, away!"

"It is true you love another now; may she never prove how false, how fleeting your pa.s.sion is."

"Away, Juana; for G.o.d's sake taunt me not. He knows I am bitterly punished when she I love is faithless, perhaps, to me. Away--do you hear me--begone! What, lingering still? I command you to depart: would you have me summon my servants to show you out?"

"I will go--I will take my secret with me. Lord Wentworth, hear me, you will repent this to your dying day."

"Away, away, I dare not look at you!"

"Shall I, then, for ever keep my secret? Listen, my Lord; eternity would be too short to mourn your error. I came to tell you about one you love--about her for whom you forsook Juana--you shall not hear it."

"Oh, my G.o.d; what said you--about Ellen--where, where is my adored one?

Forgive me, I was hasty--I am mad, driven mad--stay, I forgive you--oh, tell me!"

"Nay, I must begone; you bade me away--I obey you."

"Stay, for G.o.d's sake, stay; do not drive me distracted."

"Hear me, my Lord, were it not for her sake I would go."

"Yes," cried the Earl, rising and walking towards her, "taunt me with my crime, I deserve it--upbraid me with my faithlessness, I can bear it--but oh! by His blessed name who formed us, withhold not this secret."

"And why should I tell it, after all; is she not my rival? is she not--"

"Powers above, you escape me not thus--you know about Ellen--you shall tell me all--I will arrest you--imprison--torture--"

"Those days are past, you have not the power--and if you had, you might tear my tongue from its roots--but never wring from it the secret it held. Juana would die silent like the wolf; it would be of no use to imprison, nor punish me; to-night, to-night, she suffers, she whom you love better than life--time is pa.s.sing--every moment is precious as untold wealth, even now, perhaps, she is in his power, even--"

"Oh, sumless agony! I have deserved this at your hand, but, hear me, I will do whatever you wish, Juana. I will marry you--yes, I will--bitterly as it would punish me--I will roll away your reproach--you shall be a countess--only lead me to Ellen--let me save her from this wrong. I love her to wildness--let me save her, though she can never be mine!"

Like one half-distracted, the Earl wrung his hands as he spoke; close to him stood Juana, calm, collected, self-possessed.

"Listen, my Lord, I could now accept your offer, and become your lawful wife--the dearest name that I can have. I will not; Juana must be freely loved, and she is not so base as to betray her friend. Ellen Ravensworth is my friend. I will, for her sake--for her n.o.ble sake--lead you to where she is imprisoned,--a captive dove, and cruel hawks near. You shall be happy, and live to remember her who gave all in this world and the next for you--you, who deceived her. Name, fame, future bliss, all I freely give for Ellen's sake."

"n.o.ble Juana," cried the Earl, and not even Ellen could have grudged the look he gave her; "and now tell me who has dared imprison, and where he has imprisoned her. Oh! be quick, time presses."

"Listen, then; I was the Italian minstrel, to me the care of Ellen was given--her brother was my old lover, and for this I saved her. Edward L'Estrange is he who dared make her his captive. To-night he will compel her to become his bride! but no, he will not. Ellen has a blade to deprive herself of life, should that be her last resource; and a heart to do it, should that alone save her from contempt and dishonour. I am brief and curt in my story, for there is little time to waste: even now perhaps we shall be too late, her own hand may have cut the thread of life ere we reach her prison."

"Where is it, oh! heavens, where is it? I will fly thither. Oh! Ellen, my own darling, you in danger and I not there to support you! Juana, I can never thank you enough, but tell me where."

"At Cessford's Peel--not seven miles hence."

"Ah!" cried the Earl, "I have it now--and you, fair traitress, are the author of my misery; had it not been this confession, nought would have saved you, a heavy reckoning I would have had."

"You will believe me when I tell you I had not any hand in this; true I was led to believe by bad men it might restore me to honour and virtue, but G.o.d willed it otherwise. Ellen, by an accident, the sight of yon dagger, was known to me, and--"

"Tarry not, life hangs on every word. Cessford's Peel, said you? and what room is her prison?"

"The refectory, with the tapestried walls--you are right--fly, fly to the tower--I may lose life, I _shall_ lose liberty, by this confession; you see it is ingenuous."

"You shall not, Juana; stay with me, I care not what the world says, this is your home. I cannot give you my heart, all else, to the half of my wealth, I can, and I will."

"It is needless, I cannot accept; think you I could live so near him I loved so well, and see him love another? No; you know not a woman's heart. Man may love more than one--woman never: but we are losing precious irrevocable time. Haste, the lady is even now in peril. I will away to some distant strand, and bury there my love and my shame. Take back your ring, you gave it to the Italian boy, not to Juana, though they were the same being."

"Nay, keep it, and now for action. L'Estrange will find me a rough host to reckon with."