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diff --git a/3095-h/3095-h.htm b/3095-h/3095-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a44d6cb --- /dev/null +++ b/3095-h/3095-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11581 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Lady of the Shroud</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Lady of the Shroud, by Bram Stoker</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lady of the Shroud, by Bram Stoker + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Lady of the Shroud + + +Author: Bram Stoker + + + +Release Date: October 15, 2007 [eBook #3095] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY OF THE SHROUD*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1909 Rider and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE LADY OF THE SHROUD</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">By<br /> +Bram Stoker</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Author of “Dracula,” “The +Jewel of Seven Stars,”<br /> +“The Mystery of the Sea,” etc.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +Rider and Co.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed in Great Britain</p> +<p><i>Copyright</i>, <i>London</i>, 1909, <i>by Bram Stoker</i><br /> +<i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">to</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">my dear old friend</span><br /> +THE COMTESSE DE GUERBEL<br /> +(<span class="smcap">geneviève ward</span>)</p> +<h2>FROM “THE JOURNAL OF OCCULTISM”<br /> +MID-JANUARY, 1907.</h2> +<p>A strange story comes from the Adriatic. It appears that on the +night of the 9th, as the Italia Steamship Company’s vessel +“Victorine” was passing a little before midnight the point +known as “the Spear of Ivan,” on the coast of the Blue +Mountains, the attention of the Captain, then on the bridge, was called by +the look-out man to a tiny floating light close inshore. It is the +custom of some South-going ships to run close to the Spear of Ivan in fine +weather, as the water is deep, and there is no settled current; also there +are no outlying rocks. Indeed, some years ago the local steamers had +become accustomed to hug the shore here so closely that an intimation was +sent from Lloyd’s that any mischance under the circumstances would +not be included in ordinary sea risks. Captain Mirolani is one of +those who insist on a wholesome distance from the promontory being kept; +but on his attention having been called to the circumstance reported, he +thought it well to investigate it, as it might be some case of personal +distress. Accordingly, he had the engines slowed down, and edged +cautiously in towards shore. He was joined on the bridge by two of +his officers, Signori Falamano and Destilia, and by one passenger on board, +Mr. Peter Caulfield, whose reports of Spiritual Phenomena in remote places +are well known to the readers of “The Journal of +Occultism.” The following account of the strange occurrence +written by him, and attested by the signatures of Captain Mirolani and the +other gentleman named, has been sent to us.</p> +<p>“ . . . It was eleven minutes before twelve midnight on Saturday, +the 9th day of January, 1907, when I saw the strange sight off the headland +known as the Spear of Ivan on the coast of the Land of the Blue +Mountains. It was a fine night, and I stood right on the bows of the +ship, where there was nothing to obstruct my view. We were some +distance from the Spear of Ivan, passing from northern to southern point of +the wide bay into which it projects. Captain Mirolani, the Master, is +a very careful seaman, and gives on his journeys a wide berth to the bay +which is tabooed by Lloyd’s. But when he saw in the moonlight, +though far off, a tiny white figure of a woman drifting on some strange +current in a small boat, on the prow of which rested a faint light (to me +it looked like a corpse-candle!), he thought it might be some person in +distress, and began to cautiously edge towards it. Two of his +officers were with him on the bridge—Signori Falamano and +Destilia. All these three, as well as myself, saw It. The rest +of the crew and passengers were below. As we got close the true +inwardness of It became apparent to me; but the mariners did not seem to +realize till the very last. This is, after all, not strange, for none +of them had either knowledge or experience in Occult matters, whereas for +over thirty years I have made a special study of this subject, and have +gone to and fro over the earth investigating to the nth all records of +Spiritual Phenomena. As I could see from their movements that the +officers did not comprehend that which was so apparent to myself, I took +care not to enlighten them, lest such should result in the changing of the +vessel’s course before I should be near enough to make accurate +observation. All turned out as I wished—at least, nearly +so—as shall be seen. Being in the bow, I had, of course, a +better view than from the bridge. Presently I made out that the +boat, which had all along seemed to be of a queer shape, was none other +than a <i>Coffin</i>, and that the woman standing up in it was clothed in a +shroud. Her back was towards us, and she had evidently not heard our +approach. As we were creeping along slowly, the engines were almost +noiseless, and there was hardly a ripple as our fore-foot cut the dark +water. Suddenly there was a wild cry from the bridge—Italians +are certainly very excitable; hoarse commands were given to the +Quartermaster at the wheel; the engine-room bell clanged. On the +instant, as it seemed, the ship’s head began to swing round to +starboard; full steam ahead was in action, and before one could understand, +the Apparition was fading in the distance. The last thing I saw was +the flash of a white face with dark, burning eyes as the figure sank down +into the coffin—just as mist or smoke disappears under a +breeze.”</p> +<h2>BOOK I: THE WILL OF ROGER MELTON</h2> +<h3>The Reading of the Will of Roger Melton and all that Followed</h3> +<p class="headingsummary">Record made by Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, +law-student of the Inner Temple, eldest son of Ernest Halbard Melton, +eldest son of Ernest Melton, elder brother of the said Roger Melton and his +next of kin.</p> +<p>I consider it at least useful—perhaps necessary—to have a +complete and accurate record of all pertaining to the Will of my late +grand-uncle Roger Melton.</p> +<p>To which end let me put down the various members of his family, and +explain some of their occupations and idiosyncrasies. My father, +Ernest Halbard Melton, was the only son of Ernest Melton, eldest son of Sir +Geoffrey Halbard Melton of Humcroft, in the shire of Salop, a Justice of +the Peace, and at one time Sheriff. My great-grandfather, Sir +Geoffrey, had inherited a small estate from his father, Roger Melton. +In his time, by the way, the name was spelled Milton; but my +great-great-grandfather changed the spelling to the later form, as he was a +practical man not given to sentiment, and feared lest he should in the +public eye be confused with others belonging to the family of a Radical +person called Milton, who wrote poetry and was some sort of official in the +time of Cromwell, whilst we are Conservatives. The same practical +spirit which originated the change in the spelling of the family name +inclined him to go into business. So he became, whilst still young, a +tanner and leather-dresser. He utilized for the purpose the ponds and +streams, and also the oak-woods on his estate—Torraby in +Suffolk. He made a fine business, and accumulated a considerable +fortune, with a part of which he purchased the Shropshire estate, which he +entailed, and to which I am therefore heir-apparent.</p> +<p>Sir Geoffrey had, in addition to my grandfather, three sons and a +daughter, the latter being born twenty years after her youngest +brother. These sons were: Geoffrey, who died without issue, having +been killed in the Indian Mutiny at Meerut in 1857, at which he took up a +sword, though a civilian, to fight for his life; Roger (to whom I shall +refer presently); and John—the latter, like Geoffrey, dying +unmarried. Out of Sir Geoffrey’s family of five, therefore, +only three have to be considered: My grandfather, who had three children, +two of whom, a son and a daughter, died young, leaving only my father, +Roger and Patience. Patience, who was born in 1858, married an +Irishman of the name of Sellenger—which was the usual way of +pronouncing the name of St. Leger, or, as they spelled it, Sent +Leger—restored by later generations to the still older form. He +was a reckless, dare-devil sort of fellow, then a Captain in the Lancers, a +man not without the quality of bravery—he won the Victoria Cross at +the Battle of Amoaful in the Ashantee Campaign. But I fear he lacked +the seriousness and steadfast strenuous purpose which my father always says +marks the character of our own family. He ran through nearly all of +his patrimony—never a very large one; and had it not been for my +grand-aunt’s little fortune, his days, had he lived, must have ended +in comparative poverty. Comparative, not actual; for the Meltons, who +are persons of considerable pride, would not have tolerated a +poverty-stricken branch of the family. We don’t think much of +that lot—any of us.</p> +<p>Fortunately, my great-aunt Patience had only one child, and the +premature decease of Captain St. Leger (as I prefer to call the name) did +not allow of the possibility of her having more. She did not marry +again, though my grandmother tried several times to arrange an alliance for +her. She was, I am told, always a stiff, uppish person, who would not +yield herself to the wisdom of her superiors. Her own child was a +son, who seemed to take his character rather from his father’s family +than from my own. He was a wastrel and a rolling stone, always in +scrapes at school, and always wanting to do ridiculous things. My +father, as Head of the House and his own senior by eighteen years, tried +often to admonish him; but his perversity of spirit and his truculence were +such that he had to desist. Indeed, I have heard my father say that +he sometimes threatened his life. A desperate character he was, and +almost devoid of reverence. No one, not even my father, had any +influence—good influence, of course, I mean—over him, except +his mother, who was of my family; and also a woman who lived with +her—a sort of governess—aunt, he called her. The way of +it was this: Captain St. Leger had a younger brother, who made an +improvident marriage with a Scotch girl when they were both very +young. They had nothing to live on except what the reckless Lancer +gave them, for he had next to nothing himself, and she was +“bare”—which is, I understand, the indelicate Scottish +way of expressing lack of fortune. She was, however, I understand, of +an old and somewhat good family, though broken in fortune—to use an +expression which, however, could hardly be used precisely in regard to a +family or a person who never had fortune to be broken in! It was so +far well that the MacKelpies—that was the maiden name of Mrs. St. +Leger—were reputable—so far as fighting was concerned. It +would have been too humiliating to have allied to our family, even on the +distaff side, a family both poor and of no account. Fighting alone +does not make a family, I think. Soldiers are not everything, though +they think they are. We have had in our family men who fought; but I +never heard of any of them who fought because they <i>wanted</i> to. +Mrs. St. Leger had a sister; fortunately there were only those two children +in the family, or else they would all have had to be supported by the money +of my family.</p> +<p>Mr. St. Leger, who was only a subaltern, was killed at Maiwand; and his +wife was left a beggar. Fortunately, however, she died—her +sister spread a story that it was from the shock and grief—before the +child which she expected was born. This all happened when my +cousin—or, rather, my father’s cousin, my +first-cousin-once-removed, to be accurate—was still a very small +child. His mother then sent for Miss MacKelpie, her +brother-in-law’s sister-in-law, to come and live with her, which she +did—beggars can’t be choosers; and she helped to bring up young +St. Leger.</p> +<p>I remember once my father giving me a sovereign for making a witty +remark about her. I was quite a boy then, not more than thirteen; but +our family were always clever from the very beginning of life, and father +was telling me about the St. Leger family. My family hadn’t, of +course, seen anything of them since Captain St. Leger died—the circle +to which we belong don’t care for poor relations—and was +explaining where Miss MacKelpie came in. She must have been a sort of +nursery governess, for Mrs. St. Leger once told him that she helped her to +educate the child.</p> +<p>“Then, father,” I said, “if she helped to educate the +child she ought to have been called Miss MacSkelpie!”</p> +<p>When my first-cousin-once-removed, Rupert, was twelve years old, his +mother died, and he was in the dolefuls about it for more than a +year. Miss MacKelpie kept on living with him all the same. +Catch her quitting! That sort don’t go into the poor-house when +they can keep out! My father, being Head of the Family, was, of +course, one of the trustees, and his uncle Roger, brother of the testator, +another. The third was General MacKelpie, a poverty-stricken Scotch +laird who had a lot of valueless land at Croom, in Ross-shire. I +remember father gave me a new ten-pound note when I interrupted him whilst +he was telling me of the incident of young St. Leger’s improvidence +by remarking that he was in error as to the land. From what I had +heard of MacKelpie’s estate, it was productive of one thing; when he +asked me “What?” I answered “Mortgages!” +Father, I knew, had bought, not long before, a lot of them at what a +college friend of mine from Chicago used to call “cut-throat” +price. When I remonstrated with my father for buying them at all, and +so injuring the family estate which I was to inherit, he gave me an answer, +the astuteness of which I have never forgotten.</p> +<p>“I did it so that I might keep my hand on the bold General, in +case he should ever prove troublesome. And if the worst should ever +come to the worst, Croom is a good country for grouse and +stags!” My father can see as far as most men!</p> +<p>When my cousin—I shall call him cousin henceforth in this record, +lest it might seem to any unkind person who might hereafter read it that I +wished to taunt Rupert St. Leger with his somewhat obscure position, in +reiterating his real distance in kinship with my family—when my +cousin, Rupert St. Leger, wished to commit a certain idiotic act of +financial folly, he approached my father on the subject, arriving at our +estate, Humcroft, at an inconvenient time, without permission, not having +had even the decent courtesy to say he was coming. I was then a +little chap of six years old, but I could not help noticing his mean +appearance. He was all dusty and dishevelled. When my father +saw him—I came into the study with him—he said in a horrified +voice:</p> +<p>“Good God!” He was further shocked when the boy +brusquely acknowledged, in reply to my father’s greeting, that he had +travelled third class. Of course, none of my family ever go anything +but first class; even the servants go second. My father was really +angry when he said he had walked up from the station.</p> +<p>“A nice spectacle for my tenants and my tradesmen! To see +my—my—a kinsman of my house, howsoever remote, trudging like a +tramp on the road to my estate! Why, my avenue is two miles and a +perch! No wonder you are filthy and insolent!” +Rupert—really, I cannot call him cousin here—was exceedingly +impertinent to my father.</p> +<p>“I walked, sir, because I had no money; but I assure you I did not +mean to be insolent. I simply came here because I wished to ask your +advice and assistance, not because you are an important person, and have a +long avenue—as I know to my cost—but simply because you are one +of my trustees.”</p> +<p>“<i>Your</i> trustees, sirrah!” said my father, interrupting +him. “Your trustees?”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, quite quietly. +“I meant the trustees of my dear mother’s will.”</p> +<p>“And what, may I ask you,” said father, “do you want +in the way of advice from one of the trustees of your dear mother’s +will?” Rupert got very red, and was going to say something +rude—I knew it from his look—but he stopped, and said in the +same gentle way:</p> +<p>“I want your advice, sir, as to the best way of doing something +which I wish to do, and, as I am under age, cannot do myself. It must +be done through the trustees of my mother’s will.”</p> +<p>“And the assistance for which you wish?” said father, +putting his hand in his pocket. I know what that action means when I +am talking to him.</p> +<p>“The assistance I want,” said Rupert, getting redder than +ever, “is from my—the trustee also. To carry out what I +want to do.”</p> +<p>“And what may that be?” asked my father. “I +would like, sir, to make over to my Aunt Janet—” My +father interrupted him by asking—he had evidently remembered my +jest:</p> +<p>“Miss MacSkelpie?” Rupert got still redder, and I +turned away; I didn’t quite wish that he should see me +laughing. He went on quietly:</p> +<p>“<i>MacKelpie</i>, sir! Miss Janet MacKelpie, my aunt, who +has always been so kind to me, and whom my mother loved—I want to +have made over to her the money which my dear mother left to +me.” Father doubtless wished to have the matter take a less +serious turn, for Rupert’s eyes were all shiny with tears which had +not fallen; so after a little pause he said, with indignation, which I knew +was simulated:</p> +<p>“Have you forgotten your mother so soon, Rupert, that you wish to +give away the very last gift which she bestowed on you?” Rupert +was sitting, but he jumped up and stood opposite my father with his fist +clenched. He was quite pale now, and his eyes looked so fierce that I +thought he would do my father an injury. He spoke in a voice which +did not seem like his own, it was so strong and deep.</p> +<p>“Sir!” he roared out. I suppose, if I was a writer, +which, thank God, I am not—I have no need to follow a menial +occupation—I would call it “thundered.” +“Thundered” is a longer word than “roared,” and +would, of course, help to gain the penny which a writer gets for a +line. Father got pale too, and stood quite still. Rupert looked +at him steadily for quite half a minute—it seemed longer at the +time—and suddenly smiled and said, as he sat down again:</p> +<p>“Sorry. But, of course, you don’t understand such +things.” Then he went on talking before father had time to say +a word.</p> +<p>“Let us get back to business. As you do not seem to follow +me, let me explain that it is <i>because</i> I do not forget that I wish to +do this. I remember my dear mother’s wish to make Aunt Janet +happy, and would like to do as she did.”</p> +<p>“<i>Aunt</i> Janet?” said father, very properly sneering at +his ignorance. “She is not your aunt. Why, even her +sister, who was married to your uncle, was only your aunt by +courtesy.” I could not help feeling that Rupert meant to be +rude to my father, though his words were quite polite. If I had been +as much bigger than him as he was than me, I should have flown at him; but +he was a very big boy for his age. I am myself rather thin. +Mother says thinness is an “appanage of birth.”</p> +<p>“My Aunt Janet, sir, is an aunt by love. Courtesy is a small +word to use in connection with such devotion as she has given to us. +But I needn’t trouble you with such things, sir. I take it that +my relations on the side of my own house do not affect you. I am a +Sent Leger!” Father looked quite taken aback. He sat +quite still before he spoke.</p> +<p>“Well, Mr. St. Leger, I shall think over the matter for a while, +and shall presently let you know my decision. In the meantime, would +you like something to eat? I take it that as you must have started +very early, you have not had any breakfast?” Rupert smiled +quite genially:</p> +<p>“That is true, sir. I haven’t broken bread since +dinner last night, and I am ravenously hungry.” Father rang the +bell, and told the footman who answered it to send the housekeeper. +When she came, father said to her:</p> +<p>“Mrs. Martindale, take this boy to your room and give him some +breakfast.” Rupert stood very still for some seconds. His +face had got red again after his paleness. Then he bowed to my +father, and followed Mrs. Martindale, who had moved to the door.</p> +<p>Nearly an hour afterwards my father sent a servant to tell him to come +to the study. My mother was there, too, and I had gone back with +her. The man came back and said:</p> +<p>“Mrs. Martindale, sir, wishes to know, with her respectful +service, if she may have a word with you.” Before father could +reply mother told him to bring her. The housekeeper could not have +been far off—that kind are generally near a keyhole—for she +came at once. When she came in, she stood at the door curtseying and +looking pale. Father said:</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“I thought, sir and ma’am, that I had better come and tell +you about Master Sent Leger. I would have come at once, but I feared +to disturb you.”</p> +<p>“Well?” Father had a stern way with servants. +When I’m head of the family I’ll tread them under my +feet. That’s the way to get real devotion from servants!</p> +<p>“If you please, sir, I took the young gentleman into my room and +ordered a nice breakfast for him, for I could see he was half +famished—a growing boy like him, and so tall! Presently it came +along. It was a good breakfast, too! The very smell of it made +even me hungry. There were eggs and frizzled ham, and grilled +kidneys, and coffee, and buttered toast, and +bloater-paste—”</p> +<p>“That will do as to the menu,” said mother. “Go +on!”</p> +<p>“When it was all ready, and the maid had gone, I put a chair to +the table and said, ‘Now, sir, your breakfast is ready!’ +He stood up and said, ‘Thank you, madam; you are very kind!’ +and he bowed to me quite nicely, just as if I was a lady, +ma’am!”</p> +<p>“Go on,” said mother.</p> +<p>“Then, sir, he held out his hand and said, ‘Good-bye, and +thank you,’ and he took up his cap.</p> +<p>“‘But aren’t you going to have any breakfast, +sir?’ I says.</p> +<p>“‘No, thank you, madam,’ he said; ‘I +couldn’t eat here . . . in this house, I mean!’ Well, +ma’am, he looked so lonely that I felt my heart melting, and I +ventured to ask him if there was any mortal thing I could do for him. +‘Do tell me, dear,’ I ventured to say. ‘I am an old +woman, and you, sir, are only a boy, though it’s a fine man you will +be—like your dear, splendid father, which I remember so well, and +gentle like your poor dear mother.’</p> +<p>“‘You’re a dear!’ he says; and with that I took +up his hand and kissed it, for I remember his poor dear mother so well, +that was dead only a year. Well, with that he turned his head away, +and when I took him by the shoulders and turned him round—he is only +a young boy, ma’am, for all he is so big—I saw that the tears +were rolling down his cheeks. With that I laid his head on my +breast—I’ve had children of my own, ma’am, as you know, +though they’re all gone. He came willing enough, and sobbed for +a little bit. Then he straightened himself up, and I stood +respectfully beside him.</p> +<p>“‘Tell Mr. Melton,’ he said, ‘that I shall not +trouble him about the trustee business.’</p> +<p>“‘But won’t you tell him yourself, sir, when you see +him?’ I says.</p> +<p>“‘I shall not see him again,’ he says; ‘I am +going back now!’</p> +<p>“Well, ma’am, I knew he’d had no breakfast, though he +was hungry, and that he would walk as he come, so I ventured to say: +‘If you won’t take it a liberty, sir, may I do anything to make +your going easier? Have you sufficient money, sir? If not, may +I give, or lend, you some? I shall be very proud if you will allow me +to.’</p> +<p>“‘Yes,’ he says quite hearty. ‘If you +will, you might lend me a shilling, as I have no money. I shall not +forget it.’ He said, as he took the coin: ‘I shall return +the amount, though I never can the kindness. I shall keep the +coin.’ He took the shilling, sir—he wouldn’t take +any more—and then he said good-bye. At the door he turned and +walked back to me, and put his arms round me like a real boy does, and gave +me a hug, and says he:</p> +<p>“‘Thank you a thousand times, Mrs. Martindale, for your +goodness to me, for your sympathy, and for the way you have spoken of my +father and mother. You have seen me cry, Mrs. Martindale,’ he +said; ‘I don’t often cry: the last time was when I came back to +the lonely house after my poor dear was laid to rest. But you nor any +other shall ever see a tear of mine again.’ And with that he +straightened out his big back and held up his fine proud head, and walked +out. I saw him from the window striding down the avenue. My! +but he is a proud boy, sir—an honour to your family, sir, say I +respectfully. And there, the proud child has gone away hungry, and he +won’t, I know, ever use that shilling to buy food!”</p> +<p>Father was not going to have that, you know, so he said to her:</p> +<p>“He does not belong to my family, I would have you to know. +True, he is allied to us through the female side; but we do not count him +or his in my family.” He turned away and began to read a +book. It was a decided snub to her.</p> +<p>But mother had a word to say before Mrs. Martindale was done with. +Mother has a pride of her own, and doesn’t brook insolence from +inferiors; and the housekeeper’s conduct seemed to be rather +presuming. Mother, of course, isn’t quite our class, though her +folk are quite worthy and enormously rich. She is one of the +Dalmallingtons, the salt people, one of whom got a peerage when the +Conservatives went out. She said to the housekeeper:</p> +<p>“I think, Mrs. Martindale, that I shall not require your services +after this day month! And as I don’t keep servants in my +employment when I dismiss them, here is your month’s wages due on the +25th of this month, and another month in lieu of notice. Sign this +receipt.” She was writing a receipt as she spoke. The +other signed it without a word, and handed it to her. She seemed +quite flabbergasted. Mother got up and sailed—that is the way +that mother moves when she is in a wax—out of the room.</p> +<p>Lest I should forget it, let me say here that the dismissed housekeeper +was engaged the very next day by the Countess of Salop. I may say in +explanation that the Earl of Salop, K.G., who is Lord-Lieutenant of the +County, is jealous of father’s position and his growing +influence. Father is going to contest the next election on the +Conservative side, and is sure to be made a Baronet before long.</p> +<p><i>Letter from Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie</i>, +<i>V.C.</i>, <i>K.C.B.</i>, <i>of Croom</i>, <i>Ross</i>, <i>N.B.</i>, +<i>to Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Esq.</i>, 14, <i>Newland Park</i>, +<i>Dulwich</i>, <i>London</i>, <i>S.E.</i></p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 4, 1892.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Godson</span>,</p> +<p>I am truly sorry I am unable to agree with your request that I should +acquiesce in your desire to transfer to Miss Janet MacKelpie the property +bequeathed to you by your mother, of which property I am a trustee. +Let me say at once that, had it been possible to me to do so, I should have +held it a privilege to further such a wish—not because the +beneficiare whom you would create is a near kinswoman of my own. +That, in truth, is my real difficulty. I have undertaken a trust made +by an honourable lady on behalf of her only son—son of a man of +stainless honour, and a dear friend of my own, and whose son has a rich +heritage of honour from both parents, and who will, I am sure, like to look +back on his whole life as worthy of his parents, and of those whom his +parents trusted. You will see, I am sure, that whatsoever I might +grant regarding anyone else, my hands are tied in this matter.</p> +<p>And now let me say, my dear boy, that your letter has given me the most +intense pleasure. It is an unspeakable delight to me to find in the +son of your father—a man whom I loved, and a boy whom I +love—the same generosity of spirit which endeared your father to all +his comrades, old as well as young. Come what may, I shall always be +proud of you; and if the sword of an old soldier—it is all I +have—can ever serve you in any way, it and its master’s life +are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours.</p> +<p>It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that +ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my +dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if +you are in the same mind—and I am sure you will not change—you, +being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to +secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of +fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet +one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate +of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as +is—or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage +entails—something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, +my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you +and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. +I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let +me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, +had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my +dear.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Yours ever,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Colin Alex. Mackelpie</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Roger Melton</i>, <i>of Openshaw Grange</i>, <i>to Rupert +Sent Leger</i>, <i>Esq.</i>, 14, <i>Newland Park</i>, <i>Dulwich</i>, +<i>London</i>, <i>S.E.</i></p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 1, 1892.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Nephew</span>,</p> +<p>Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered +matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee +would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me +explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune +as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such +benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to +provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, +against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so +defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and +future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving +you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, +she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should +be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against +any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. +It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use +for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at +command, <i>and that only</i> (as specifically directed in the will), so +that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be +handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of +adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my +co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the +circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and +united duty towards you as the object of the testator’s wishes, but +towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that +duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the +spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us +should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a +stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have +each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or +favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse +before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited +one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when +you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to +expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I +could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the +expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your +estate without protest or comment of any man.</p> +<p>Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am +bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any +other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see +your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall +undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce +them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you +are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, +until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in +your mother’s bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the +annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on +that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and +education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be +free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written +authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of +it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is +effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the +estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil +it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our +trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise +any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only +so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to +alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your +latest document must be used for our guidance.</p> +<p>As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no +comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. +I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe +that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my +sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your +intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my +dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as +your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you +and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish +transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know +how to act in the matter. With all good wishes,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Believe me to be,<br /> +Your affectionate uncle,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Roger Melton</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">To Rupert Sent Leger</span>, <span +class="smcap">Esq.</span></p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton</i>,</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 5, 1892.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Uncle</span>,</p> +<p>Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and +now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. +I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a +letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till +further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may +remain over from the interest of my mother’s bequest after deduction +of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and +education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was +the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal +use—“pocket-money,” she called it.</p> +<p>With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt +Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I +thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of +course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) +and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer +it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. +With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has +been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my +mother died—and she, of course, was all-in-all to me—there has +been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. +Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving nephew,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert Sent Leger</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON’S RECORD—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p>And now <i>re</i> the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey’s children, +Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, +Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four +sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from +my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was +a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only +once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very +dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or +blue, but I can’t remember which. She looked very proud and +haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I +remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so +distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid +he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent +except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very +unfairly, that I was “A sulky little beast.” I +haven’t forgot that, and I don’t mean to. However, it +doesn’t matter much what he said or thought. There he +is—if he is at all—where no one can find him, with no money or +nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the +MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but +father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is +another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away +his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it +patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he +couldn’t take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was +his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not +remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a +clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very +broad. I can hear him say, “Hae some attempt at even Soothern +manners, and dinna misca’ yer betters, ye young puddock, or +I’ll wring yer snoot!” Father was, I could see, very much +offended, but he didn’t say anything. He remembered, I think, +that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But +to show that the fault was not his, <i>he</i> wrung <i>my</i> ear—and +the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But +it’s only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When +the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note.</p> +<p>I don’t think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert +behaved about the legacy, for I don’t think he ever saw him from that +day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away +shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. +After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton +at all, and I am to be Head of the House—of course, when the Lord +thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of +money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right +direction he needn’t have any trouble. He made his money in +what he calls “the Eastern Trade.” This, so far as I can +gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what +they call in trade “houses” in all sorts of +places—Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and +Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round +it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not +to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle +covers—or alas! I must say “covered”—a lot of +ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and +only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn’t ever +have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and +mother—especially mother—forced me to go and see him and be +affectionate to him. He wasn’t ever even civil to me, that I +can remember—grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at +all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for +testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was +distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for +eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and +without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: “Get +out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I’m busy? Get +out, and be damned to you!” I waited where I was, ready to +transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that +when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did +there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly:</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought it was one of my +office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am +ready.” So I sat down and waited. Father always said that +I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very +shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one.</p> +<p>But I don’t think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he +is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For +instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in +the country they call the “Land of Blue Mountains.” At +least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. +But he didn’t show any title-deeds, and I’m greatly afraid he +was “had.” A bad job for me that he was, for father +believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it +reduces his available estate to so much less.</p> +<p>And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was +about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When +we—or, rather, my father—did hear of him, it was no good that +he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the +Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of +Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian +Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to +Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We +all know the wisdom of the adage that “A rolling stone gathers no +moss”; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert +will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful +wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made +over all his mother’s little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure +that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our +House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My +mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to +keep it in her own control—as I am to inherit it, and it is not in +the entail, I am therefore quite impartial—I can approve of her +spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, +anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a +dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what +he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just +now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding +my dear Uncle Roger’s Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who +regulated my dear uncle’s affairs and has possession of the Will, +says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be +found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is +especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very +thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old +MacSkelpie about it, but he didn’t seem to understand or to be at all +anxious—he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent +Leger—he, too, keeps to the old spelling—did not know of his +uncle’s death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our +anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only +wish to <i>know</i>. And if we—and especially me—who have +all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, +are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he’ll get a +properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and +discovers that he is a pauper without hope!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the +whereabouts of “Mr. Rupert Sent Leger” had been discovered, and +that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger’s death had +been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So +goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which “asks him to +come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as +has already been given to every member of the testator’s +family.” And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept +waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It +is too bad!</p> +<p><i>Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard +Melton</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right">176, <span class="smcap">Lincoln’s Inn +Fields</span>,<br /> +<i>December</i> 28, 1906.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,</p> +<p>I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from +Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. +<i>Amazon</i>, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further +stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on +what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others +possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names +are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have +been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that +event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that +by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of +London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to +postponement due to the non-arrival of the <i>Amazon</i>, the reading of +the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on +Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o’clock a.m.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">I have the honour to be, sir,<br /> +Yours faithfully,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Edward Bingham Trent</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">To Ernest Roger Halbard +Melton</span>, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Humcroft</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Salop</span>.</p> +<p>Cable: <i>Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent</i>.<br /> +<i>Amazon</i> arrives London January 1. <span class="smcap">Sent +Leger</span>.</p> +<p><i>Telegram</i> (<i>per Lloyd’s</i>): <i>Rupert Sent Leger to +Edward Bingham Trent</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">The Lizard</span>,<br /> +<i>December</i> 31.</p> +<blockquote> +<p><i>Amazon</i> arrives London to-morrow morning. All +well.—<span class="smcap">Leger</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Telegram</i>: <i>Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard +Mellon</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as +arranged.—<span class="smcap">Trent</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON’S RECORD.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 4, 1907.</p> +<p>The reading of Uncle Roger’s Will is over. Father got a +duplicate of Mr. Trent’s letter to me, and of the cable and two +telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the +third—that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient +member of our family was my mother. She <i>did</i> say things, and if +old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what +ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping +the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn’t even +a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn’t bear the name. I +don’t think it’s quite respectful to one who is some day to be +Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience +when he said: “True, my dear—true!” and got up and left +the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him +walking up and down.</p> +<p>Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January +2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge’s, where we always stay +when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it +better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised +to send her separate telegrams after the reading.</p> +<p>At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent’s office. +Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem +eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a +rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half +an hour before it was time, not to be too early.</p> +<p>When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie +and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger—not a +very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old +MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. +Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but +lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first +page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up +when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure +that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had +more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he +is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our +Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both +cordially. He evidently had forgotten—or pretended to +have—the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me +quite in a friendly way—I thought more warmly than he did to +father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, +whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man—has won the +V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the +Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality +myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might +be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle +Roger’s many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of +course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former +impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and +said, “How do?” He got very red and turned away. +Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was +sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to +see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the +old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he +turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded +like “Help!” but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no +notice of it.</p> +<p>As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and +as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his +hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S’s, +I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to +this moment.</p> +<h3>THE RECORD—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p>When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert.</p> +<p>When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand +quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did +not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be +doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; +but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it +was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his +clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men +also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was +standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father +sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did +shake hands with any of us—not even me. Nothing but his +respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, +on such formal occasions.</p> +<p>He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and +asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took +the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other +side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General +knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I +may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things.</p> +<p>The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin +box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he +placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the +floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the +latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before +him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed +the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in +front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, +opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which +were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other +paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with +the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said:</p> +<p>“Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is +endorsed ‘My Last Will and Testament—<span class="smcap">Roger +Melton</span>, <i>June</i>, 1906.’ This +document”—holding it up—“is as follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; +of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the +Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind +do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day +of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and +six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in +number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln’s Inn Fields London hereby +revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as +my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows:</p> +<p>“‘1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton +Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole +use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all +Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum +Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada.</p> +<p>“‘2. To my respected friend and colleague as +co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late +Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin +Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight +Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland +a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges +whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of +Toronto, Canada.</p> +<p>“‘3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at +Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds +sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of +my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council.</p> +<p>“‘4. To the various persons charities and Trustees +named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums +mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges +whatsoever.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our +immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred +and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old +friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left quite +large sums of money and specific objects, such as curios and pictures.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘5. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Roger Halbard +Melton presently living in the house of his father at Humcroft Salop the +sum of Ten thousand pounds sterling.</p> +<p>“‘6. To my old and valued friend Edward Bingham Trent +of one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln’s Inn Fields sum of Twenty +thousand pounds sterling free from all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever +to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the city of Manchester +England.</p> +<p>“‘7. To my dear nephew Rupert Sent Leger only son of +my dear sister Patience Melton by her marriage with Captain Rupert Sent +Leger the sum of one thousand pounds sterling. I also bequeath to the +said Rupert Sent Leger a further sum conditional upon his acceptance of the +terms of a letter addressed to him marked B, and left in the custody of the +above Edward Bingham Trent and which letter is an integral part of this my +Will. In case of the non-acceptance of the conditions of such letter, +I devise and bequeath the whole of the sums and properties reserved therein +to the executors herein appointed Colin Alexander MacKelpie and Edward +Bingham Trent in trust to distribute the same in accordance with the terms +of the letter in the present custody of Edward Bingham Trent marked C, and +now deposited sealed with my seal in the sealed envelope containing my last +Will to be kept in the custody of the said Edward Bingham Trent and which +said letter C is also an integral part of my Will. And in case any +doubt should arise as to my ultimate intention as to the disposal of my +property the above-mentioned Executors are to have full power to arrange +and dispose all such matters as may seem best to them without further +appeal. And if any beneficiary under this Will shall challenge the +same or any part of it, or dispute the validity thereof, he shall forfeit +to the general estate the bequest made herein to him, and any such bequest +shall cease and be void to all intents and purposes whatsoever.</p> +<p>“‘8. For proper compliance with laws and duties +connected with testamentary proceedings and to keep my secret trusts secret +I direct my Executors to pay all Death, Estate, Settlement, Legacy, +Succession, or other duties charges impositions and assessments whatever on +the residue of my estate beyond the bequests already named, at the scale +charged in the case of most distant relatives or strangers in blood.</p> +<p>“‘9. I hereby appoint as my Executors Major-General +Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, of Croom in the County of Ross, and +Edward Bingham Trent Attorney at Law of one hundred and seventy-six +Lincoln’s Inn Fields London West Central with full power to exercise +their discretion in any circumstance which may arise in the carrying out my +wishes as expressed in this Will. As reward for their services in +this capacity as Executors they are to receive each out of the general +estate a sum of one hundred thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties and +impositions whatsoever.</p> +<p>“12. The two Memoranda contained in the letters marked B and +C are Integral Parts of this my Last Will are ultimately at the Probate of +the Will to be taken as Clauses 10 and 11 of it. The envelopes are +marked B and C on both envelope and contents and the contents of each is +headed thus: B to be read as Clause 10 of my Will and the other C to be +read as Clause 11 of my Will.</p> +<p>“13. Should either of the above-mentioned Executors die +before the completion of the above year and a half from the date of the +Reading of my Will or before the Conditions rehearsed in Letter C the +remaining Executor shall have all and several the Rights and Duties +entrusted by my Will to both. And if both Executors should die then +the matter of interpretation and execution of all matters in connection +with this my Last Will shall rest with the Lord Chancellor of England for +the time being or with whomsoever he may appoint for the purpose.</p> +<p>“‘This my Last Will is given by me on the first day of +January in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and seven.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“‘<span class="smcap">Roger +Melton</span>.</p> +<p>“We Andrew Rossiter and John Colson here in the presence of each +other and of the Testator have seen the Testator Roger Melton sign and seal +this document. In witness thereof we hereby set our names</p> +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Andrew Rossiter</span> clerk of 9 +Primrose Avenue London W.C.</p> +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">John Colson</span> caretaker of 176 +Lincoln’s Inn Fields and Verger of St. Tabitha’s Church +Clerkenwell London.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When Mr. Trent had finished the reading he put all the papers together, +and tied them up in a bundle again with the red tape. Holding the +bundle in his hand, he stood up, saying as he did so:</p> +<p>“That is all, gentlemen, unless any of you wish to ask me any +questions; in which case I shall answer, of course, to the best of my +power. I shall ask you, Sir Colin, to remain with me, as we have to +deal with some matters, or to arrange a time when we may meet to do +so. And you also, Mr. Sent Leger, as there is this letter to submit +to you. It is necessary that you should open it in the presence of +the executors, but there is no necessity that anyone else should be +present.”</p> +<p>The first to speak was my father. Of course, as a county gentleman +of position and estate, who is sometimes asked to take the chair at +Sessions—of course, when there is not anyone with a title +present—he found himself under the duty of expressing himself +first. Old MacKelpie has superior rank; but this was a family affair, +in which my father is Head of the House, whilst old MacKelpie is only an +outsider brought into it—and then only to the distaff side, by the +wife of a younger brother of the man who married into our family. +Father spoke with the same look on his face as when he asks important +questions of witnesses at Quarter Sessions.</p> +<p>“I should like some points elucidated.” The attorney +bowed (he gets his 120 thou’, any way, so he can afford to be +oily—suave, I suppose he would call it); so father looked at a slip +of paper in his hand and asked:</p> +<p>“How much is the amount of the whole estate?”</p> +<p>The attorney answered quickly, and I thought rather rudely. He was +red in the face, and didn’t bow this time; I suppose a man of his +class hasn’t more than a very limited stock of manners:</p> +<p>“That, sir, I am not at liberty to tell you. And I may say +that I would not if I could.”</p> +<p>“Is it a million?” said father again. He was angry +this time, and even redder than the old attorney. The attorney said +in answer, very quietly this time:</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s cross-examining. Let me say, sir, that no +one can know that until the accountants to be appointed for the purpose +have examined the affairs of the testator up to date.”</p> +<p>Mr. Rupert St. Leger, who was looking all this time angrier than even +the attorney or my father—though at what he had to be angry about I +can’t imagine—struck his fist on the table and rose up as if to +speak, but as he caught sight of both old MacKelpie and the attorney he sat +down again. <i>Mem.</i>—Those three seem to agree too +well. I must keep a sharp eye on them. I didn’t think of +this part any more at the time, for father asked another question which +interested me much:</p> +<p>“May I ask why the other matters of the Will are not shown to +us?” The attorney wiped his spectacles carefully with a big +silk bandanna handkerchief before he answered:</p> +<p>“Simply because each of the two letters marked ‘B’ and +‘C’ is enclosed with instructions regarding their opening and +the keeping secret of their contents. I shall call your attention to +the fact that both envelopes are sealed, and that the testator and both +witnesses have signed their names across the flap of each envelope. I +shall read them. The letter marked ‘B,’ directed to +‘Rupert Sent Leger,’ is thus endorsed:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘This letter is to be given to Rupert Sent Leger by the +Trustees and is to be opened by him in their presence. He is to take +such copy or make such notes as he may wish and is then to hand the letter +with envelope to the Executors who are at once to read it, each of them +being entitled to make copy or notes if desirous of so doing. The +letter is then to be replaced in its envelope and letter and envelope are +to be placed in another envelope to be endorsed on outside as to its +contents and to be signed across the flap by both the Executors and by the +said Rupert Sent Leger.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“‘(Signed) <span +class="smcap">Roger Melton</span> 1/6/’06.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“The letter marked ‘C,’ directed to ‘Edward +Bingham Trent,’ is thus endorsed:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘This letter directed to Edward Bingham Trent is to be kept +by him unopened for a term of two years after the reading of my Last Will +unless said period is earlier terminated by either the acceptance or +refusal of Rupert Sent Leger to accept the conditions mentioned in my +letter to him marked ‘B’ which he is to receive and read in the +presence of my Executors at the same meeting as but subsequent to the +Reading of the clauses (except those to be ultimately numbers ten and +eleven) of my Last Will. This letter contains instructions as to what +both the Executors and the said Rupert Sent Leger are to do when such +acceptance or refusal of the said Rupert Sent Leger has been made known, or +if he omit or refuse to make any such acceptance or refusal, at the end of +two years next after my decease.</p> +<p>“‘(Signed) <span class="smcap">Roger Melton</span> +1/6/’06.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the attorney had finished reading the last letter he put it +carefully in his pocket. Then he took the other letter in his hand, +and stood up. “Mr. Rupert Sent Leger,” he said, +“please to open this letter, and in such a way that all present may +see that the memorandum at top of the contents is given as—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘B. To be read as clause ten of my +Will.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>St. Leger rolled up his sleeves and cuffs just as if he was going to +perform some sort of prestidigitation—it was very theatrical and +ridiculous—then, his wrists being quite bare, he opened the envelope +and took out the letter. We all saw it quite well. It was +folded with the first page outward, and on the top was written a line just +as the attorney said. In obedience to a request from the attorney, he +laid both letter and envelope on the table in front of him. The clerk +then rose up, and, after handing a piece of paper to the attorney, went +back to his seat. Mr. Trent, having written something on the paper, +asked us all who were present, even the clerk and the shorthand man, to +look at the memorandum on the letter and what was written on the envelope, +and to sign the paper, which ran:</p> +<p>“We the signatories of this paper hereby declare that we have seen +the sealed letter marked B and enclosed in the Will of Roger Melton opened +in the presence of us all including Mr. Edward Bingham Trent and Sir Colin +Alexander MacKelpie and we declare that the paper therein contained was +headed ‘B. To be read as clause ten of my Will’ and that +there were no other contents in the envelope. In attestation of which +we in the presence of each other append our signatures.”</p> +<p>The attorney motioned to my father to begin. Father is a cautious +man, and he asked for a magnifying-glass, which was shortly brought to him +by a clerk for whom the clerk in the room called. Father examined the +envelope all over very carefully, and also the memorandum at top of the +paper. Then, without a word, he signed the paper. Father is a +just man. Then we all signed. The attorney folded the paper and +put it in an envelope. Before closing it he passed it round, and we +all saw that it had not been tampered with. Father took it out and +read it, and then put it back. Then the attorney asked us all to sign +it across the flap, which we did. Then he put the sealing-wax on it +and asked father to seal it with his own seal. He did so. Then +he and MacKelpie sealed it also with their own seals, Then he put it in +another envelope, which he sealed himself, and he and MacKelpie signed it +across the flap.</p> +<p>Then father stood up, and so did I. So did the two men—the +clerk and the shorthand writer. Father did not say a word till we got +out into the street. We walked along, and presently we passed an open +gate into the fields. He turned back, saying to me:</p> +<p>“Come in here. There is no one about, and we can be +quiet. I want to speak to you.” When we sat down on a +seat with none other near it, father said:</p> +<p>“You are a student of the law. What does all that +mean?” I thought it a good occasion for an epigram, so I said +one word:</p> +<p>“Bilk!”</p> +<p>“H’m!” said father; “that is so far as you and I +are concerned. You with a beggarly ten thousand, and I with +twenty. But what is, or will be, the effect of those secret +trusts?”</p> +<p>“Oh, that,” I said, “will, I dare say, be all +right. Uncle Roger evidently did not intend the older generation to +benefit too much by his death. But he only gave Rupert St. Leger one +thousand pounds, whilst he gave me ten. That looks as if he had more +regard for the direct line. Of course—” Father +interrupted me:</p> +<p>“But what was the meaning of a further sum?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, father. There was evidently some +condition which he was to fulfil; but he evidently didn’t expect that +he would. Why, otherwise, did he leave a second trust to Mr. +Trent?”</p> +<p>“True!” said father. Then he went on: “I wonder +why he left those enormous sums to Trent and old MacKelpie. They seem +out of all proportion as executors’ fees, unless—”</p> +<p>“Unless what, father?”</p> +<p>“Unless the fortune he has left is an enormous one. That is +why I asked.”</p> +<p>“And that,” I laughed, “is why he refused to +answer.”</p> +<p>“Why, Ernest, it must run into big figures.”</p> +<p>“Right-ho, father. The death-duties will be annoying. +What a beastly swindle the death-duties are! Why, I shall suffer even +on your own little estate . . . ”</p> +<p>“That will do!” he said curtly. Father is so +ridiculously touchy. One would think he expects to live for +ever. Presently he spoke again:</p> +<p>“I wonder what are the conditions of that trust. They are as +important—almost—as the amount of the bequest—whatever it +is. By the way, there seems to be no mention in the will of a +residuary legatee. Ernest, my boy, we may have to fight over +that.”</p> +<p>“How do you make that out, father?” I asked. He had +been very rude over the matter of the death-duties of his own estate, +though it is entailed and I <i>must</i> inherit. So I determined to +let him see that I know a good deal more than he does—of law, at any +rate. “I fear that when we come to look into it closely that +dog won’t fight. In the first place, that may be all arranged +in the letter to St. Leger, which is a part of the Will. And if that +letter should be inoperative by his refusal of the conditions (whatever +they may be), then the letter to the attorney begins to work. What it +is we don’t know, and perhaps even he doesn’t—I looked at +it as well as I could—and we law men are trained to +observation. But even if the instructions mentioned as being in +Letter C fail, then the corpus of the Will gives full power to Trent to act +just as he darn pleases. He can give the whole thing to himself if he +likes, and no one can say a word. In fact, he is himself the final +court of appeal.”</p> +<p>“H’m!” said father to himself. “It is a +queer kind of will, I take it, that can override the Court of +Chancery. We shall perhaps have to try it before we are done with +this!” With that he rose, and we walked home +together—without saying another word.</p> +<p>My mother was very inquisitive about the whole thing—women always +are. Father and I between us told her all it was necessary for her to +know. I think we were both afraid that, woman-like, she would make +trouble for us by saying or doing something injudicious. Indeed, she +manifested such hostility towards Rupert St. Leger that it is quite on the +cards that she may try to injure him in some way. So when father said +that he would have to go out shortly again, as he wished to consult his +solicitor, I jumped up and said I would go with him, as I, too, should take +advice as to how I stood in the matter.</p> +<p><i>The Contents of Letter marked</i> “<i>B</i>” <i>attached +as an Integral Part to the Last Will of Roger Melton</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 11, 1907.</p> +<p>“This letter an integral part of my Last Will regards the entire +residue of my estate beyond the specific bequests made in the body of my +Will. It is to appoint as Residuary Legatee of such Will—in +case he may accept in due form the Conditions herein laid down—my +dear Nephew Rupert Sent Leger only son of my sister Patience Melton now +deceased by her marriage with Captain Rupert Sent Leger also now +deceased. On his acceptance of the Conditions and the fulfilment of +the first of them the Entire residue of my estate after payments of all +specific Legacies and of all my debts and other obligations is to become +his absolute property to be dealt with or disposed of as he may +desire. The following are the conditions.</p> +<p>“1. He is to accept provisionally by letter addressed to my +Executors a sum of nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling +free of all Duties Taxes or other imposts. This he will hold for a +period of six months from the date of the Reading of my Last Will and have +user of the accruements thereto calculated at the rate of ten per centum +per annum which amount he shall under no circumstances be required to +replace. At the end of said six months he must express in writing +directed to the Executors of my Will his acceptance or refusal of the other +conditions herein to follow. But if he may so choose he shall be free +to declare in writing to the Executors within one week from the time of the +Reading of the Will his wish to accept or to withdraw altogether from the +responsibility of this Trust. In case of withdrawal he is to retain +absolutely and for his own use the above-mentioned sum of nine hundred and +ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and imposts +whatsoever making with the specific bequest of one thousand pounds a clear +sum of one million pounds sterling free of all imposts. And he will +from the moment of the delivery of such written withdrawal cease to have +any right or interest whatsoever in the further disposition of my estate +under this instrument. Should such written withdrawal be received by +my Executors they shall have possession of such residue of my estate as +shall remain after the payment of the above sum of nine hundred and +ninety-nine thousand pounds sterling and the payment of all Duties Taxes +assessments or Imposts as may be entailed by law by its conveyance to the +said Rupert Sent Leger and these my Executors shall hold the same for the +further disposal of it according to the instructions given in the letter +marked C and which is also an integral part of my Last Will and +Testament.</p> +<p>“2. If at or before the expiration of the six months +above-mentioned the said Rupert Sent Leger shall have accepted the further +conditions herein stated, he is to have user of the entire income produced +by such residue of my estate the said income being paid to him Quarterly on +the usual Quarter Days by the aforesaid Executors to wit Major General Sir +Colin Alexander MacKelpie Bart. and Edward Bingham Trent to be used by him +in accordance with the terms and conditions hereinafter mentioned.</p> +<p>“3. The said Rupert Sent Leger is to reside for a period of +at least six months to begin not later than three months from the reading +of my Will in the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue +Mountains. And if he fulfil the Conditions imposed on him and shall +thereby become possessed of the residue of my estate he is to continue to +reside there in part for a period of one year. He is not to change +his British Nationality except by a formal consent of the Privy Council of +Great Britain.</p> +<p>“At the end of a year and a half from the Reading of my Will he is +to report in person to my Executors of the expenditure of amounts paid or +due by him in the carrying out of the Trust and if they are satisfied that +same are in general accord with the conditions named in above-mentioned +letter marked C and which is an integral part of my Will they are to record +their approval on such Will which can then go for final Probate and +Taxation. On the Completion of which the said Rupert Sent Leger shall +become possessed absolutely and without further act or need of the entire +residue of my estate. In witness whereof, etc.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“(Signed) <span class="smcap">Roger +Melton</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This document is attested by the witnesses to the Will on the same +date.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>(<i>Personal and Confidential</i>.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Memoranda made by Edward Bingham Trent in Connection +with the Will of Roger Melton</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>The interests and issues of all concerned in the Will and estate of the +late Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange are so vast that in case any +litigation should take place regarding the same, I, as the solicitor, +having the carriage of the testator’s wishes, think it well to make +certain memoranda of events, conversations, etc., not covered by +documentary evidence. I make the first memorandum immediately after +the event, whilst every detail of act and conversation is still fresh in my +mind. I shall also try to make such comments thereon as may serve to +refresh my memory hereafter, and which in case of my death may perhaps +afford as opinions contemporaneously recorded some guiding light to other +or others who may later on have to continue and complete the tasks +entrusted to me.</p> +<p>I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Concerning the Reading of the Will of Roger +Melton</span>.</p> +<p>When, beginning at 11 o’clock a.m. on this the forenoon of +Thursday, the 3rd day of January, 1907, I opened the Will and read it in +full, except the clauses contained in the letters marked “B” +and “C”; there were present in addition to myself, the +following:</p> +<p>1. Ernest Halbard Melton, J.P, nephew of the testator.</p> +<p>2. Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, son of the above.</p> +<p>3. Rupert Sent Leger, nephew of the testator.</p> +<p>4. Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Bart., co-executor +with myself of the Will.</p> +<p>5. Andrew Rossiter, my clerk, one of the witnesses of the +testator’s Will.</p> +<p>6. Alfred Nugent, stenographer (of Messrs. Castle’s office, +21, Bream’s Buildings, W.C.).</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the Will had been read, Mr. E. H. Melton asked the value of the +estate left by the testator, which query I did not feel empowered or +otherwise able to answer; and a further query, as to why those present were +not shown the secret clauses of the Will. I answered by reading the +instructions endorsed on the envelopes of the two letters marked +“B” and “C,” which were sufficiently +explanatory.</p> +<p>But, lest any question should hereafter arise as to the fact that the +memoranda in letters marked “B” and “C,” which were +to be read as clauses 10 and 11 of the Will, I caused Rupert Sent Leger to +open the envelope marked “B” in the presence of all in the +room. These all signed a paper which I had already prepared, to the +effect that they had seen the envelope opened, and that the memorandum +marked “B. To be read as clause ten of my Will,” was +contained in the envelope, of which it was to be the sole contents. +Mr. Ernest Halbard Melton, J.P., before signing, carefully examined with a +magnifying-glass, for which he had asked, both the envelope and the heading +of the memorandum enclosed in the letter. He was about to turn the +folded paper which was lying on the table over, by which he might have been +able to read the matter of the memorandum had he so desired. I at +once advised him that the memorandum he was to sign dealt only with the +heading of the page, and not with the matter. He looked very angry, +but said nothing, and after a second scrutiny signed. I put the +memorandum in an envelope, which we all signed across the flap. +Before signing, Mr Ernest Halbard Melton took out the paper and verified +it. I then asked him to close it, which he did, and when the +sealing-wax was on it he sealed it with his own seal. Sir Colin A. +MacKelpie and I also appended our own seals. I put the envelope in +another, which I sealed with my own seal, and my co-executor and I signed +it across the flap and added the date. I took charge of this. +When the others present had taken their departure, my co-executor and I, +together with Mr. Rupert Sent Leger, who had remained at my request, went +into my private room.</p> +<p>Here Mr. Rupert Sent Leger read the memorandum marked “B,” +which is to be read as clause 10 of the Will. He is evidently a man +of considerable nerve, for his face was quite impassive as he read the +document, which conveyed to him (subject to the conditions laid down) a +fortune which has no equal in amount in Europe, even, so far as I know, +amongst the crowned heads. When he had read it over a second time he +stood up and said:</p> +<p>“I wish I had known my uncle better. He must have had the +heart of a king. I never heard of such generosity as he has shown +me. Mr. Trent, I see, from the conditions of this memorandum, or +codicil, or whatever it is, that I am to declare within a week as to +whether I accept the conditions imposed on me. Now, I want you to +tell me this: must I wait a week to declare?” In answer, I told +him that the testator’s intention was manifestly to see that he had +full time to consider fully every point before making formal decision and +declaration. But, in answer to the specific question, I could answer +that he might make declaration when he would, provided it was +<i>within</i>, or rather not after, the week named. I added:</p> +<p>“But I strongly advise you not to act hurriedly. So enormous +a sum is involved that you may be sure that all possible efforts will be +made by someone or other to dispossess you of your inheritance, and it will +be well that everything shall be done, not only in perfect order, but with +such manifest care and deliberation that there can be no question as to +your intention.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” he answered; “I shall do as you +shall kindly advise me in this as in other things. But I may tell you +now—and you, too, my dear Sir Colin—that I not only accept my +Uncle Roger’s conditions in this, but that when the time comes in the +other matters I shall accept every condition that he had in his +mind—and that I may know of—in everything.” He +looked exceedingly in earnest, and it gave me much pleasure to see and hear +him. It was just what a young man should do who had seen so +generously treated. As the time had now come, I gave him the bulky +letter addressed to him, marked “D” which I had in my +safe. As I fulfilled my obligation in the matter, I said:</p> +<p>“You need not read the letter here. You can take it away +with you, and read it by yourself at leisure. It is your own +property, without any obligation whatever attached to it. By the way, +perhaps it would be well if you knew. I have a copy sealed up in an +envelope, and endorsed, ‘To be opened if occasion should +arise,’ but not otherwise. Will you see me to-morrow, or, +better still, dine with me alone here to-night? I should like to have +a talk with you, and you may wish to ask me some questions.” He +answered me cordially. I actually felt touched by the way he said +good-bye before he went away. Sir Colin MacKelpie went with him, as +Sent Leger was to drop him at the Reform.</p> +<p><i>Letter from Roger Melton to Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>endorsed</i> +“<i>D. re Rupert Sent Leger</i>. <i>To be given to him by +Edward Bingham Trent if and as soon as he has declared</i> (<i>formally or +informally</i>) <i>his intention of accepting the conditions named in +Letter B.</i>, <i>forming Clause</i> 10 <i>in my Will</i>. <i>R. +M.</i>, 1/1/’07.</p> +<p>“<i>Mem.</i>—Copy (sealed) left in custody of E. B. Trent, +to be opened if necessary, as directed.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 11, 1906.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>My Dear Nephew,</p> +<p>When (if ever) you receive this you will know that (with the exception +of some definite bequests) I have left to you, under certain conditions, +the entire bulk of my fortune—a fortune so great that by its aid as a +help, a man of courage and ability may carve out for himself a name and +place in history. The specific conditions contained in Clause 10 of +my Will have to be observed, for such I deem to be of service to your own +fortune; but herein I give my advice, which you are at liberty to follow or +not as you will, and my wishes, which I shall try to explain fully and +clearly, so that you may be in possession of my views in case you should +desire to carry them out, or, at least, to so endeavour that the results I +hope for may be ultimately achieved. First let me explain—for +your understanding and your guidance—that the power, or perhaps it +had better be called the pressure, behind the accumulation of my fortune +has been ambition. In obedience to its compulsion, I toiled early and +late until I had so arranged matters that, subject to broad supervision, my +ideas could be carried out by men whom I had selected and tested, and not +found wanting. This was for years to the satisfaction, and ultimately +to the accumulation by these men of fortune commensurate in some measure to +their own worth and their importance to my designs. Thus I had +accumulated, whilst still a young man, a considerable fortune. This I +have for over forty years used sparingly as regards my personal needs, +daringly with regard to speculative investments. With the latter I +took such very great care, studying the conditions surrounding them so +thoroughly, that even now my schedule of bad debts or unsuccessful +investments is almost a blank. Perhaps by such means things +flourished with me, and wealth piled in so fast that at times I could +hardly use it to advantage. This was all done as the forerunner of +ambition, but I was over fifty years of age when the horizon of ambition +itself opened up to me. I speak thus freely, my dear Rupert, as when +you read it I shall have passed away, and not ambition nor the fear of +misunderstanding, nor even of scorn can touch me. My ventures in +commerce and finance covered not only the Far East, but every foot of the +way to it, so that the Mediterranean and all its opening seas were familiar +to me. In my journeyings up and down the Adriatic I was always struck +by the great beauty and seeming richness—native richness—of the +Land of the Blue Mountains. At last Chance took me into that +delectable region. When the “Balkan Struggle” of +’90 was on, one of the great Voivodes came to me in secret to arrange +a large loan for national purposes. It was known in financial circles +of both Europe and Asia that I took an active part in the <i>haute +politique</i> of national treasuries, and the Voivode Vissarion came to me +as to one able and willing to carry out his wishes. After +confidential pour-parlers, he explained to me that his nation was in the +throes of a great crisis. As you perhaps know, the gallant little +Nation in the Land of the Blue Mountains has had a strange history. +For more than a thousand years—ever since its settlement after the +disaster of Rossoro—it had maintained its national independence under +several forms of Government. At first it had a King whose successors +became so despotic that they were dethroned. Then it was governed by +its Voivodes, with the combining influence of a Vladika somewhat similar in +power and function to the Prince-Bishops of Montenegro; afterwards by a +Prince; or, as at present, by an irregular elective Council, influenced in +a modified form by the Vladika, who was then supposed to exercise a purely +spiritual function. Such a Council in a small, poor nation did not +have sufficient funds for armaments, which were not immediately and +imperatively necessary; and therefore the Voivode Vissarion, who had vast +estates in his own possession, and who was the present representative a +family which of old had been leaders in the land, found it a duty to do on +his own account that which the State could not do. For security as to +the loan which he wished to get, and which was indeed a vast one, he +offered to sell me his whole estate if I would secure to him a right to +repurchase it within a given time (a time which I may say has some time ago +expired). He made it a condition that the sale and agreement should +remain a strict secret between us, as a widespread knowledge that his +estate had changed hands would in all probability result in my death and +his own at the hands of the mountaineers, who are beyond everything loyal, +and were jealous to the last degree. An attack by Turkey was feared, +and new armaments were required; and the patriotic Voivode was sacrificing +his own great fortune for the public good. What a sacrifice this was +he well knew, for in all discussions regarding a possible change in the +Constitution of the Blue Mountains it was always taken for granted that if +the principles of the Constitution should change to a more personal rule, +his own family should be regarded as the Most Noble. It had ever been +on the side of freedom in olden time; before the establishment of the +Council, or even during the rule of the Voivodes, the Vissarion had every +now and again stood out against the King or challenged the Princedom. +The very name stood for freedom, for nationality, against foreign +oppression; and the bold mountaineers were devoted to it, as in other free +countries men follow the flag.</p> +<p>Such loyalty was a power and a help in the land, for it knew danger in +every form; and anything which aided the cohesion of its integers was a +natural asset. On every side other powers, great and small, pressed +the land, anxious to acquire its suzerainty by any means—fraud or +force. Greece, Turkey, Austria, Russia, Italy, France, had all tried +in vain. Russia, often hurled back, was waiting an opportunity to +attack. Austria and Greece, although united by no common purpose or +design, were ready to throw in their forces with whomsoever might seem most +likely to be victor. Other Balkan States, too, were not lacking in +desire to add the little territory of the Blue Mountains to their more +ample possessions. Albania, Dalmatia, Herzegovina, Servia, Bulgaria, +looked with lustful eyes on the land, which was in itself a vast natural +fortress, having close under its shelter perhaps the finest harbour between +Gibraltar and the Dardanelles.</p> +<p>But the fierce, hardy mountaineers were unconquerable. For +centuries they had fought, with a fervour and fury that nothing could +withstand or abate, attacks on their independence. Time after time, +century after century, they had opposed with dauntless front invading +armies sent against them. This unquenchable fire of freedom had had +its effect. One and all, the great Powers knew that to conquer that +little nation would be no mean task, but rather that of a tireless +giant. Over and over again had they fought with units against +hundreds, never ceasing until they had either wiped out their foes entirely +or seen them retreat across the frontier in diminished numbers.</p> +<p>For many years past, however, the Land of the Blue Mountains had +remained unassailable, for all the Powers and States had feared lest the +others should unite against the one who should begin the attack.</p> +<p>At the time I speak of there was a feeling throughout the Blue +Mountains—and, indeed, elsewhere—that Turkey was preparing for +a war of offence. The objective of her attack was not known anywhere, +but here there was evidence that the Turkish “Bureau of Spies” +was in active exercise towards their sturdy little neighbour. To +prepare for this, the Voivode Peter Vissarion approached me in order to +obtain the necessary “sinews of war.”</p> +<p>The situation was complicated by the fact that the Elective Council was +at present largely held together by the old Greek Church, which was the +religion of the people, and which had had since the beginning its destinies +linked in a large degree with theirs. Thus it was possible that if a +war should break out, it might easily become—whatever might have been +its cause or beginnings—a war of creeds. This in the Balkans +must be largely one of races, the end of which no mind could diagnose or +even guess at.</p> +<p>I had now for some time had knowledge of the country and its people, and +had come to love them both. The nobility of Vissarion’s +self-sacrifice at once appealed to me, and I felt that I, too, should like +to have a hand in the upholding of such a land and such a people. +They both deserved freedom. When Vissarion handed me the completed +deed of sale I was going to tear it up; but he somehow recognized my +intention, and forestalled it. He held up his hand arrestingly as he +said:</p> +<p>“I recognize your purpose, and, believe me, I honour you for it +from the very depths of my soul. But, my friend, it must not +be. Our mountaineers are proud beyond belief. Though they would +allow me—who am one of themselves, and whose fathers have been in +some way leaders and spokesmen amongst them for many centuries—to do +all that is in my power to do—and what, each and all, they would be +glad to do were the call to them—they would not accept aid from one +outside themselves. My good friend, they would resent it, and might +show to you, who wish us all so well, active hostility, which might end in +danger, or even death. That was why, my friend, I asked to put a +clause in our agreement, that I might have right to repurchase my estate, +regarding which you would fain act so generously.”</p> +<p>Thus it is, my dear nephew Rupert, only son of my dear sister, that I +hereby charge you solemnly as you value me—as you value +yourself—as you value honour, that, should it ever become known that +that noble Voivode, Peter Vissarion, imperilled himself for his +country’s good, and if it be of danger or evil repute to him that +even for such a purpose he sold his heritage, you shall at once and to the +knowledge of the mountaineers—though not necessarily to +others—reconvey to him or his heirs the freehold that he was willing +to part with—and that he has <i>de facto</i> parted with by the +effluxion of the time during which his right of repurchase existed. +This is a secret trust and duty which is between thee and me alone in the +first instance; a duty which I have undertaken on behalf of my heirs, and +which must be carried out, at whatsoever cost may ensue. You must not +take it that it is from any mistrust of you or belief that you will fail +that I have taken another measure to insure that this my cherished idea is +borne out. Indeed, it is that the law may, in case of need—for +no man can know what may happen after his own hand be taken from the +plough—be complied with, that I have in another letter written for +the guidance of others, directed that in case of any failure to carry out +this trust—death or other—the direction become a clause or +codicil to my Will. But in the meantime I wish that this be kept a +secret between us two. To show you the full extent of my confidence, +let me here tell you that the letter alluded to above is marked +“C,” and directed to my solicitor and co-executor, Edward +Bingham Trent, which is finally to be regarded as clause eleven of my +Will. To which end he has my instructions and also a copy of this +letter, which is, in case of need, and that only, to be opened, and is to +be a guide to my wishes as to the carrying out by you of the conditions on +which you inherit.</p> +<p>And now, my dear nephew, let me change to another subject more dear to +me—yourself. When you read this I shall have passed away, so +that I need not be hampered now by that reserve which I feel has grown upon +me through a long and self-contained life. Your mother was very dear +to me. As you know, she was twenty years younger than her youngest +brother, who was two years younger than me. So we were all young men +when she was a baby, and, I need not say, a pet amongst us—almost +like our own child to each of us, as well as our sister. You knew her +sweetness and high quality, so I need say nothing of these; but I should +like you to understand that she was very dear to me. When she and +your father came to know and love each other I was far away, opening up a +new branch of business in the interior of China, and it was not for several +months that I got home news. When I first heard of him they had +already been married. I was delighted to find that they were very +happy. They needed nothing that I could give. When he died so +suddenly I tried to comfort her, and all I had was at her disposal, did she +want it. She was a proud woman—though not with me. She +had come to understand that, though I seemed cold and hard (and perhaps was +so generally), I was not so to her. But she would not have help of +any kind. When I pressed her, she told me that she had enough for +your keep and education and her own sustenance for the time she must still +live; that your father and she had agreed that you should be brought up to +a healthy and strenuous life rather than to one of luxury; and she thought +that it would be better for the development of your character that you +should learn to be self-reliant and to be content with what your dear +father had left you. She had always been a wise and thoughtful girl, +and now all her wisdom and thought were for you, your father’s and +her child. When she spoke of you and your future, she said many +things which I thought memorable. One of them I remember to this +day. It was apropos of my saying that there is a danger of its own +kind in extreme poverty. A young man might know too much want. +She answered me: “True! That is so! But there is a danger +that overrides it;” and after a time went on:</p> +<p>“It is better not to know wants than not to know +want!” I tell you, boy, that is a great truth, and I hope you +will remember it for yourself as well as a part of the wisdom of your +mother. And here let me say something else which is a sort of +corollary of that wise utterance:</p> +<p>I dare say you thought me very hard and unsympathetic that time I would +not, as one of your trustees, agree to your transferring your little +fortune to Miss MacKelpie. I dare say you bear a grudge towards me +about it up to this day. Well, if you have any of that remaining, put +it aside when you know the truth. That request of yours was an +unspeakable delight to me. It was like your mother coming back from +the dead. That little letter of yours made me wish for the first time +that I had a son—and that he should be like you. I fell into a +sort of reverie, thinking if I were yet too old to marry, so that a son +might be with me in my declining years—if such were to ever be for +me. But I concluded that this might not be. There was no woman +whom I knew or had ever met with that I could love as your mother loved +your father and as he loved her. So I resigned myself to my +fate. I must go my lonely road on to the end. And then came a +ray of light into my darkness: there was you. Though you might not +feel like a son to me—I could not expect it when the memory of that +sweet relationship was more worthily filled. But I could feel like a +father to you. Nothing could prevent that or interfere with it, for I +would keep it as my secret in the very holy of holies of my heart, where +had been for thirty years the image of a sweet little child—your +mother. My boy, when in your future life you shall have happiness and +honour and power, I hope you will sometimes give a thought to the lonely +old man whose later years your very existence seemed to brighten.</p> +<p>The thought of your mother recalled me to my duty. I had +undertaken for her a sacred task: to carry out her wishes regarding her +son. I knew how she would have acted. It +might—would—have been to her a struggle of inclination and +duty; and duty would have won. And so I carried out my duty, though I +tell you it was a harsh and bitter task to me at the time. But I may +tell you that I have since been glad when I think of the result. I +tried, as you may perhaps remember, to carry out your wishes in another +way, but your letter put the difficulty of doing so so clearly before me +that I had to give it up. And let me tell you that that letter +endeared you to me more than ever.</p> +<p>I need not tell you that thenceforth I followed your life very +closely. When you ran away to sea, I used in secret every part of the +mechanism of commerce to find out what had become of you. Then, until +you had reached your majority, I had a constant watch kept upon +you—not to interfere with you in any way, but so that I might be able +to find you should need arise. When in due course I heard of your +first act on coming of age I was satisfied. I had to know of the +carrying out of your original intention towards Janet Mac Kelpie, for the +securities had to be transferred.</p> +<p>From that time on I watched—of course through other +eyes—your chief doings. It would have been a pleasure to me to +have been able to help in carrying out any hope or ambition of yours, but I +realized that in the years intervening between your coming of age and the +present moment you were fulfilling your ideas and ambitions in your own +way, and, as I shall try to explain to you presently, my ambitions +also. You were of so adventurous a nature that even my own +widely-spread machinery of acquiring information—what I may call my +private “intelligence department”—was inadequate. +My machinery was fairly adequate for the East—in great part, at all +events. But you went North and South, and West also, and, in +addition, you essayed realms where commerce and purely real affairs have no +foothold—worlds of thought, of spiritual import, of psychic +phenomena—speaking generally, of mysteries. As now and again I +was baffled in my inquiries, I had to enlarge my mechanism, and to this end +started—not in my own name, of course—some new magazines +devoted to certain branches of inquiry and adventure. Should you ever +care to know more of these things, Mr. Trent, in whose name the stock is +left, will be delighted to give you all details. Indeed, these +stocks, like all else I have, shall be yours when the time comes, if you +care to ask for them. By means of <i>The Journal of Adventure</i>, +<i>The Magazine of Mystery</i>, <i>Occultism</i>, <i>Balloon and +Aeroplane</i>, <i>The Submarine</i>, <i>Jungle and Pampas</i>, <i>The Ghost +World</i>, <i>The Explorer</i>, <i>Forest and Island</i>, <i>Ocean and +Creek</i>, I was often kept informed when I should otherwise have been +ignorant of your whereabouts and designs. For instance, when you had +disappeared into the Forest of the Incas, I got the first whisper of your +strange adventures and discoveries in the buried cities of Eudori from a +correspondent of <i>The Journal of Adventure</i> long before the details +given in <i>The Times</i> of the rock-temple of the primeval savages, where +only remained the little dragon serpents, whose giant ancestors were rudely +sculptured on the sacrificial altar. I well remember how I thrilled +at even that meagre account of your going in alone into that veritable +hell. It was from <i>Occultism</i> that I learned how you had made a +stay alone in the haunted catacombs of Elora, in the far recesses of the +Himalayas, and of the fearful experiences which, when you came out +shuddering and ghastly, overcame to almost epileptic fear those who had +banded themselves together to go as far as the rock-cut approach to the +hidden temple.</p> +<p>All such things I read with rejoicing. You were shaping yourself +for a wider and loftier adventure, which would crown more worthily your +matured manhood. When I read of you in a description of Mihask, in +Madagascar, and the devil-worship there rarely held, I felt I had only to +wait for your home-coming in order to broach the enterprise I had so long +contemplated. This was what I read:</p> +<p>“He is a man to whom no adventure is too wild or too daring. +His reckless bravery is a byword amongst many savage peoples and amongst +many others not savages, whose fears are not of material things, but of the +world of mysteries in and beyond the grave. He dares not only wild +animals and savage men; but has tackled African magic and Indian +mysticism. The Psychical Research Society has long exploited his +deeds of valiance, and looked upon him as perhaps their most trusted agent +or source of discovery. He is in the very prime of life, of almost +giant stature and strength, trained to the use of all arms of all +countries, inured to every kind of hardship, subtle-minded and resourceful, +understanding human nature from its elemental form up. To say that he +is fearless would be inadequate. In a word, he is a man whose +strength and daring fit him for any enterprise of any kind. He would +dare and do anything in the world or out of it, on the earth or under it, +in the sea or—in the air, fearing nothing material or unseen, not man +or ghost, nor God nor Devil.”</p> +<p>If you ever care to think of it, I carried that cutting in my +pocket-book from that hour I read it till now.</p> +<p>Remember, again, I say, that I never interfered in the slightest way in +any of your adventures. I wanted you to “dree your own +weird,” as the Scotch say; and I wanted to know of it—that was +all. Now, as I hold you fully equipped for greater enterprise, I want +to set your feet on the road and to provide you with the most potent +weapon—beyond personal qualities—for the winning of great +honour—a gain, my dear nephew, which, I am right sure, does and will +appeal to you as it has ever done to me. I have worked for it for +more than fifty years; but now that the time has come when the torch is +slipping from my old hands, I look to you, my dearest kinsman, to lift it +and carry it on.</p> +<p>The little nation of the Blue Mountains has from the first appealed to +me. It is poor and proud and brave. Its people are well worth +winning, and I would advise you to throw in your lot with them. You +may find them hard to win, for when peoples, like individuals, are poor and +proud, these qualities are apt to react on each other to an endless +degree. These men are untamable, and no one can ever succeed with +them unless he is with them in all-in-all, and is a leader +recognized. But if you can win them they are loyal to death. If +you are ambitious—and I know you are—there may be a field for +you in such a country. With your qualifications, fortified by the +fortune which I am happy enough to be able to leave you, you may dare much +and go far. Should I be alive when you return from your exploration +in Northern South America, I may have the happiness of helping you to this +or any other ambition, and I shall deem it a privilege to share it with +you; but time is going on. I am in my seventy-second year . . . the +years of man are three-score and ten—I suppose you understand; I do . +. . Let me point out this: For ambitious projects the great nationalities +are impossible to a stranger—and in our own we are limited by loyalty +(and common-sense). It is only in a small nation that great ambitions +can be achieved. If you share my own views and wishes, the Blue +Mountains is your ground. I hoped at one time that I might yet become +a Voivode—even a great one. But age has dulled my personal +ambitions as it has cramped my powers. I no longer dream of such +honour for myself, though I do look on it as a possibility for you if you +care for it. Through my Will you will have a great position and a +great estate, and though you may have to yield up the latter in accordance +with my wish, as already expressed in this letter, the very doing so will +give you an even greater hold than this possession in the hearts of the +mountaineers, should they ever come to know it. Should it be that at +the time you inherit from me the Voivode Vissarion should not be alive, it +may serve or aid you to know that in such case you would be absolved from +any conditions of mine, though I trust you would in that, as in all other +matters, hold obligation enforced by your own honour as to my wishes. +Therefore the matter stands thus: If Vissarion lives, you will relinquish +the estates. Should such not be the case, you will act as you believe +that I would wish you to. In either case the mountaineers should not +know from you in any way of the secret contracts between Vissarion and +myself. Enlightenment of the many should (if ever) come from others +than yourself. And unless such take place, you would leave the +estates without any <i>quid pro quo</i> whatever. This you need not +mind, for the fortune you will inherit will leave you free and able to +purchase other estates in the Blue Mountains or elsewhere that you may +select in the world.</p> +<p>If others attack, attack them, and quicker and harder than they can, if +such be a possibility. Should it ever be that you inherit the Castle +of Vissarion on the Spear of Ivan, remember that I had it secretly +fortified and armed against attack. There are not only massive +grilles, but doors of chilled bronze where such be needed. My +adherent Rooke, who has faithfully served me for nearly forty years, and +has gone on my behalf on many perilous expeditions, will, I trust, serve +you in the same way. Treat him well for my sake, if not for your +own. I have left him provision for a life of ease; but he would +rather take a part in dangerous enterprises. He is silent as the +grave and as bold as a lion. He knows every detail of the +fortification and of the secret means of defence. A word in your +ear—he was once a pirate. He was then in his extreme youth, and +long since changed his ways in this respect; but from this fact you can +understand his nature. You will find him useful should occasion ever +arise. Should you accept the conditions of my letter, you are to make +the Blue Mountains—in part, at least—your home, living there a +part of the year, if only for a week, as in England men of many estates +share the time amongst them. To this you are not bound, and no one +shall have power to compel you or interfere with you. I only express +a hope. But one thing I do more than hope—I desire, if you will +honour my wishes, that, come what may, you are to keep your British +nationality, unless by special arrangement with and consent of the Privy +Council. Such arrangement to be formally made by my friend, Edward +Bingham Trent, or whomsoever he may appoint by deed or will to act in the +matter, and made in such a way that no act save that alone of Parliament in +all its estates, and endorsed by the King, may or can prevail against +it.</p> +<p>My last word to you is, Be bold and honest, and fear not. Most +things—even kingship—<i>somewhere</i> may now and again be won +by the sword. A brave heart and a strong arm may go far. But +whatever is so won cannot be held merely by the sword. Justice alone +can hold in the long run. Where men trust they will follow, and the +rank and file of people want to follow, not to lead. If it be your +fortune to lead, be bold. Be wary, if you will; exercise any other +faculties that may aid or guard. Shrink from nothing. Avoid +nothing that is honourable in itself. Take responsibility when such +presents itself. What others shrink from, accept. That is to be +great in what world, little or big, you move. Fear nothing, no matter +of what kind danger may be or whence it come. The only real way to +meet danger is to despise it—except with your brains. Meet it +in the gate, not the hall.</p> +<p>My kinsman, the name of my race and your own, worthily mingled in your +own person, now rests with you!</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Rupert Sent Leger</i>, 32 <i>Bodmin Street</i>, +<i>Victoria</i>, <i>S.W.</i>, <i>to Miss Janet MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>, +<i>Ross-shire</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>You will, I know, be rejoiced to hear of the great good-fortune which +has come to me through the Will of Uncle Roger. Perhaps Sir Colin +will have written to you, as he is one of the executors, and there is a +bequest to you, so I must not spoil his pleasure of telling you of that +part himself. Unfortunately, I am not free to speak fully of my own +legacy yet, but I want you to know that at worst I am to receive an amount +many times more than I ever dreamt of possessing through any possible +stroke of fortune. So soon as I can leave London—where, of +course, I must remain until things are settled—I am coming up to +Croom to see you, and I hope I shall by then be able to let you know so +much that you will be able to guess at the extraordinary change that has +come to my circumstances. It is all like an impossible dream: there +is nothing like it in the “Arabian Nights.” However, the +details must wait, I am pledged to secrecy for the present. And you +must be pledged too. You won’t mind, dear, will you? What +I want to do at present is merely to tell you of my own good-fortune, and +that I shall be going presently to live for a while at Vissarion. +Won’t you come with me, Aunt Janet? We shall talk more of this +when I come to Croom; but I want you to keep the subject in your mind.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger’s Journal</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 4, 1907.</p> +<p>Things have been humming about me so fast that I have had hardly time to +think. But some of the things have been so important, and have so +changed my entire outlook on life, that it may be well to keep some +personal record of them. I may some day want to remember some +detail—perhaps the sequence of events, or something like +that—and it may be useful. It ought to be, if there is any +justice in things, for it will be an awful swot to write it when I have so +many things to think of now. Aunt Janet, I suppose, will like to keep +it locked up for me, as she does with all my journals and papers. +That is one good thing about Aunt Janet amongst many: she has no curiosity, +or else she has some other quality which keeps her from prying as other +women would. It would seem that she has not so much as opened the +cover of one of my journals ever in her life, and that she would not +without my permission. So this can in time go to her also.</p> +<p>I dined last night with Mr. Trent, by his special desire. The +dinner was in his own rooms. Dinner sent in from the hotel. He +would not have any waiters at all, but made them send in the dinner all at +once, and we helped ourselves. As we were quite alone, we could talk +freely, and we got over a lot of ground while we were dining. He +began to tell me about Uncle Roger. I was glad of that, for, of +course, I wanted to know all I could of him, and the fact was I had seen +very little of him. Of course, when I was a small kid he was often in +our house, for he was very fond of mother, and she of him. But I +fancy that a small boy was rather a nuisance to him. And then I was +at school, and he was away in the East. And then poor mother died +while he was living in the Blue Mountains, and I never saw him again. +When I wrote to him about Aunt Janet he answered me very kindly but he was +so very just in the matter that I got afraid of him. And after that I +ran away, and have been roaming ever since; so there was never a chance of +our meeting. But that letter of his has opened my eyes. To +think of him following me that way all over the world, waiting to hold out +a helping hand if I should want it, I only wish I had known, or even +suspected, the sort of man he was, and how he cared for me, and I would +sometimes have come back to see him, if I had to come half round the +world. Well, all I can do now is to carry out his wishes; that will +be my expiation for my neglect. He knew what he wanted exactly, and I +suppose I shall come in time to know it all and understand it, too.</p> +<p>I was thinking something like this when Mr. Trent began to talk, so that +all he said fitted exactly into my own thought. The two men were +evidently great friends—I should have gathered that, anyhow, from the +Will—and the letters—so I was not surprised when Mr. Trent told +me that they had been to school together, Uncle Roger being a senior when +he was a junior; and had then and ever after shared each other’s +confidence. Mr. Trent, I gathered, had from the very first been in +love with my mother, even when she was a little girl; but he was poor and +shy, and did not like to speak. When he had made up his mind to do +so, he found that she had by then met my father, and could not help seeing +that they loved each other. So he was silent. He told me he had +never said a word about it to anyone—not even to my Uncle Roger, +though he knew from one thing and another, though he never spoke of it, +that he would like it. I could not help seeing that the dear old man +regarded me in a sort of parental way—I have heard of such romantic +attachments being transferred to the later generation. I was not +displeased with it; on the contrary, I liked him better for it. I +love my mother so much—I always think of her in the +present—that I cannot think of her as dead. There is a tie +between anyone else who loved her and myself. I tried to let Mr. +Trent see that I liked him, and it pleased him so much that I could see his +liking for me growing greater. Before we parted he told me that he +was going to give up business. He must have understood how +disappointed I was—for how could I ever get along at all without +him?—for he said, as he laid a hand quite affectionately, I +thought—on my shoulder:</p> +<p>“I shall have one client, though, whose business I always hope to +keep, and for whom I shall be always whilst I live glad to act—if he +will have me.” I did not care to speak as I took his +hand. He squeezed mine, too, and said very earnestly:</p> +<p>“I served your uncle’s interests to the very best of my +ability for nearly fifty years. He had full confidence in me, and I +was proud of his trust. I can honestly say, Rupert—you +won’t mind me using that familiarity, will you?—that, though +the interests which I guarded were so vast that without abusing my trust I +could often have used my knowledge to my personal advantage, I never once, +in little matters or big, abused that trust—no, not even rubbed the +bloom off it. And now that he has remembered me in his Will so +generously that I need work no more, it will be a very genuine pleasure and +pride to me to carry out as well as I can the wishes that I partly knew, +and now realize more fully towards you, his nephew.”</p> +<p>In the long chat which we had, and which lasted till midnight, he told +me many very interesting things about Uncle Roger. When, in the +course of conversation, he mentioned that the fortune Uncle Roger left must +be well over a hundred millions, I was so surprised that I said out +loud—I did not mean to ask a question:</p> +<p>“How on earth could a man beginning with nothing realize such a +gigantic fortune?”</p> +<p>“By all honest ways,” he answered, “and his clever +human insight. He knew one half of the world, and so kept abreast of +all public and national movements that he knew the critical moment to +advance money required. He was always generous, and always on the +side of freedom. There are nations at this moment only now entering +on the consolidation of their liberty, who owe all to him, who knew when +and how to help. No wonder that in some lands they will drink to his +memory on great occasions as they used to drink his health.”</p> +<p>“As you and I shall do now, sir!” I said, as I filled my +glass and stood up. We drank it in bumpers. We did not say a +word, either of us; but the old gentleman held out his hand, and I took +it. And so, holding hands, we drank in silence. It made me feel +quite choky; and I could see that he, too, was moved.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From E. B. Trent’s Memoranda</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 4, 1907.</p> +<p>I asked Mr. Rupert Sent Leger to dine with me at my office alone, as I +wished to have a chat with him. To-morrow Sir Colin and I will have a +formal meeting with him for the settlement of affairs, but I thought it +best to have an informal talk with him alone first, as I wished to tell him +certain matters which will make our meeting to-morrow more productive of +utility, as he can now have more full understanding of the subjects which +we have to discuss. Sir Colin is all that can be in manhood, and I +could wish no better colleague in the executorship of this phenomenal Will; +but he has not had the privilege of a lifelong friendship with the testator +as I have had. And as Rupert Sent Leger had to learn intimate details +regarding his uncle, I could best make my confidences alone. +To-morrow we shall have plenty of formality. I was delighted with +Rupert. He is just what I could have wished his mother’s boy to +be—or a son of my own to be, had I had the good-fortune to have been +a father. But this is not for me. I remember long, long ago +reading a passage in Lamb’s Essays which hangs in my mind: “The +children of Alice call Bartrum father.” Some of my old friends +would laugh to see <i>me</i> write this, but these memoranda are for my +eyes alone, and no one shall see them till after my death, unless by my own +permission. The boy takes some qualities after his father; he has a +daring that is disturbing to an old dryasdust lawyer like me. But +somehow I like him more than I ever liked anyone—any man—in my +life—more even than his uncle, my old friend, Roger Melton; and Lord +knows I had much cause to like him. I have more than ever now. +It was quite delightful to see the way the young adventurer was touched by +his uncle’s thought of him. He is a truly gallant fellow, but +venturesome exploits have not affected the goodness of heart. It is a +pleasure to me to think that Roger and Colin came together apropos of the +boy’s thoughtful generosity towards Miss MacKelpie. The old +soldier will be a good friend to him, or I am much mistaken. With an +old lawyer like me, and an old soldier like him, and a real old gentlewoman +like Miss MacKelpie, who loves the very ground he walks on, to look after +him, together with all his own fine qualities and his marvellous experience +of the world, and the gigantic wealth that will surely be his, that young +man will go far.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Miss Janet MacKelpie</i>, +<i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 5, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>It is all over—the first stage of it; and that is as far as I can +get at present. I shall have to wait for a few days—or it may +be weeks—in London for the doing of certain things now necessitated +by my acceptance of Uncle Roger’s bequest. But as soon as I +can, dear, I shall come down to Croom and spend with you as many days as +possible. I shall then tell you all I am at liberty to tell, and I +shall thank you personally for your consent to come with me to +Vissarion. Oh, how I wish my dear mother had lived to be with +us! It would have made her happy, I know, to have come; and then we +three who shared together the old dear, hard days would have shared in the +same way the new splendour. I would try to show all my love and +gratitude to you both . . . You must take the whole burden of it now, dear, +for you and I are alone. No, not alone, as we used to be, for I have +now two old friends who are already dear to me. One is so to you +already. Sir Colin is simply splendid, and so, in his own way, is Mr. +Trent. I am lucky, Aunt Janet, to have two such men to think of +affairs for me. Am I not? I shall send you a wire as soon as +ever I can see my way to get through my work; and I want you to think over +all the things you ever wished for in your life, so that I may—if +there is any mortal way of doing so—get them for you. You will +not stand in the way of my having this great pleasure, will you, +dear? Good-bye.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>E. B. Trent’s Memoranda</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 6, 1907.</p> +<p>The formal meeting of Sir Colin and myself with Rupert Sent Leger went +off quite satisfactorily. From what he had said yesterday, and again +last night, I had almost come to expect an unreserved acceptance of +everything stated or implied in Roger Melton’s Will; but when we had +sat round the table—this appeared, by the way, to be a formality for +which we were all prepared, for we sat down as if by instinct—the +very first words he said were:</p> +<p>“As I suppose I must go through this formality, I may as well say +at once that I accept every possible condition which was in the mind of +Uncle Roger; and to this end I am prepared to sign, seal, and +deliver—or whatever is the ritual—whatever document you, +sir”—turning to me—“may think necessary or +advisable, and of which you both approve.” He stood up and +walked about the room for a few moments, Sir Colin and I sitting quite +still, silent. He came back to his seat, and after a few seconds of +nervousness—a rare thing with him, I fancy—said: “I hope +you both understand—of course, I know you do; I only speak because +this is an occasion for formality—that I am willing to accept, and at +once! I do so, believe me, not to get possession of this vast +fortune, but because of him who has given it. The man who was fond of +me, and who trusted me, and yet had strength to keep his own feelings in +check—who followed me in spirit to far lands and desperate +adventures, and who, though he might be across the world from me, was ready +to put out a hand to save or help me, was no common man; and his care of my +mother’s son meant no common love for my dear mother. And so +she and I together accept his trust, come of it what may. I have been +thinking it over all night, and all the time I could not get out of the +idea that mother was somewhere near me. The only thought that could +debar me from doing as I wished to do—and intend to do—would be +that she would not approve. Now that I am satisfied she would +approve, I accept. Whatever may result or happen, I shall go on +following the course that he has set for me. So help me, +God!” Sir Colin stood up, and I must say a more martial figure +I never saw. He was in full uniform, for he was going on to the +King’s levee after our business. He drew his sword from the +scabbard and laid it naked on the table before Rupert, and said:</p> +<p>“You are going, sir, into a strange and danger country—I +have been reading about it since we met—and you will be largely alone +amongst fierce mountaineers who resent the very presence of a stranger, and +to whom you are, and must be, one. If you should ever be in any +trouble and want a man to stand back to back with you, I hope you will give +me the honour!” As he said this pointed to his sword. +Rupert and I were also standing now—one cannot sit down in the +presence of such an act as that. “You are, I am proud to say, +allied with my family: and I only wish to God it was closer to +myself.” Rupert took him by the hand and bent his head before +him as answered:</p> +<p>“The honour is mine, Sir Colin; and no greater can come to any man +than that which you have just done me. The best way I can show how I +value it will be to call on you if I am ever in such a tight place. +By Jove, sir, this is history repeating itself. Aunt Janet used to +tell me when I was a youngster how MacKelpie of Croom laid his sword before +Prince Charlie. I hope I may tell her of this; it would make her so +proud and happy. Don’t imagine, sir, that I am thinking myself +a Charles Edward. It is only that Aunt Janet is so good to me that I +might well think I was.”</p> +<p>Sir Colin bowed grandly:</p> +<p>“Rupert Sent Leger, my dear niece is a woman of great discretion +and discernment. And, moreover, I am thinking she has in her some of +the gift of Second Sight that has been a heritage of our blood. And I +am one with my niece—in everything!” The whole thing was +quite regal in manner; it seemed to take me back to the days of the +Pretender.</p> +<p>It was not, however, a time for sentiment, but for action—we had +met regarding the future, not the past; so I produced the short document I +had already prepared. On the strength of his steadfast declaration +that he would accept the terms of the Will and the secret letters, I had +got ready a formal acceptance. When I had once again formally asked +Mr. Sent Leger’s wishes, and he had declared his wish to accept, I +got in a couple of my clerks as witnesses.</p> +<p>Then, having again asked him in their presence if it was his wish to +declare acceptance of the conditions, the document was signed and +witnessed, Sir Colin and I both appending our signatures to the +Attestation.</p> +<p>And so the first stage of Rupert Sent Leger’s inheritance is +completed. The next step will not have to be undertaken on my part +until the expiration of six months from his entry on his estate at +Vissarion. As he announces his intention of going within a fortnight, +this will mean practically a little over six months from now.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>BOOK II: VISSARION</h2> +<p><i>Letter from Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Castle of Vissarion</i>, <i>the +Spear of Ivan</i>, <i>Land of the Blue Mountains</i>, <i>to Miss Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom Castle</i>, <i>Ross-shire</i>, <i>N.B.</i></p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 23, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>As you see, I am here at last. Having got my formal duty done, as +you made me promise—my letters reporting arrival to Sir Colin and Mr. +Trent are lying sealed in front of me ready to post (for nothing shall go +before yours)—I am free to speak to you.</p> +<p>This is a most lovely place, and I hope you will like it. I am +quite sure you will. We passed it in the steamer coming from Trieste +to Durazzo. I knew the locality from the chart, and it was pointed +out to me by one of the officers with whom I had become quite friendly, and +who kindly showed me interesting places whenever we got within sight of +shore. The Spear of Ivan, on which the Castle stands, is a headland +running well out into the sea. It is quite a peculiar place—a +sort of headland on a headland, jutting out into a deep, wide bay, so that, +though it is a promontory, it is as far away from the traffic of coast life +as anything you can conceive. The main promontory is the end of a +range of mountains, and looms up vast, towering over everything, a mass of +sapphire blue. I can well understand how the country came to be +called the “Land of the Blue Mountains,” for it is all +mountains, and they are all blue! The coast-line is +magnificent—what is called “iron-bound”—being all +rocky; sometimes great frowning precipices; sometimes jutting spurs of +rock; again little rocky islets, now and again clad with trees and verdure, +at other places stark and bare. Elsewhere are little rocky bays and +indentations—always rock, and often with long, interesting +caves. Some of the shores of the bays are sandy, or else ridges of +beautiful pebbles, where the waves make endless murmur.</p> +<p>But of all the places I have seen—in this land or any +other—the most absolutely beautiful is Vissarion. It stands at +the ultimate point of the promontory—I mean the little, or, rather, +lesser promontory—that continues on the spur of the mountain +range. For the lesser promontory or extension of the mountain is in +reality vast; the lowest bit of cliff along the sea-front is not less than +a couple of hundred feet high. That point of rock is really very +peculiar. I think Dame Nature must, in the early days of her +housekeeping—or, rather, house-<i>building</i>—have intended to +give her little child, man, a rudimentary lesson in self-protection. +It is just a natural bastion such as a titanic Vauban might have designed +in primeval times. So far as the Castle is concerned, it is alone +visible from the sea. Any enemy approaching could see only that +frowning wall of black rock, of vast height and perpendicular +steepness. Even the old fortifications which crown it are not built, +but cut in the solid rock. A long narrow creek of very deep water, +walled in by high, steep cliffs, runs in behind the Castle, bending north +and west, making safe and secret anchorage. Into the creek falls over +a precipice a mountain-stream, which never fails in volume of water. +On the western shore of that creek is the Castle, a huge pile of buildings +of every style of architecture, from the Twelfth century to where such +things seemed to stop in this dear old-world land—about the time of +Queen Elizabeth. So it is pretty picturesque. I can tell +you. When we got the first glimpse of the place from the steamer the +officer, with whom I was on the bridge, pointed towards it and said:</p> +<p>“That is where we saw the dead woman floating in a +coffin.” That was rather interesting, so I asked him all about +it. He took from his pocket-book a cutting from an Italian paper, +which he handed to me. As I can read and speak Italian fairly well, +it was all right; but as you, my dear Aunt Janet, are not skilled in +languages, and as I doubt if there is any assistance of the kind to be had +at Croom, I do not send it. But as I have heard that the item has +been produced in the last number of <i>The Journal of Occultism</i>, you +will be easily able to get it. As he handed me the cutting he said: +“I am Destilia!” His story was so strange that I asked +him a good many questions about it. He answered me quite frankly on +every point, but always adhering stoutly to the main point—namely, +that it was no phantom or mirage, no dream or imperfect vision in a +fog. “We were four in all who saw it,” he +said—“three from the bridge and the Englishman, +Caulfield—from the bows—whose account exactly agreed with what +we saw. Captain Mirolani and Falamano and I were all awake and in +good trim. We looked with our night-glasses, which are more than +usually powerful. You know, we need good glasses for the east shore +of the Adriatic and for among the islands to the south. There was a +full moon and a brilliant light. Of course we were a little way off, +for though the Spear of Ivan is in deep water, one has to be careful of +currents, for it is in just such places that the dangerous currents +run.” The agent of Lloyd’s told me only a few weeks ago +that it was only after a prolonged investigation of the tidal and sea +currents that the house decided to except from ordinary sea risks losses +due to a too close course by the Spear of Ivan. When I tried to get a +little more definite account of the coffin-boat and the dead lady that is +given in <i>The Journal of Occultism</i> he simply shrugged his +shoulders. “Signor, it is all,” he said. +“That Englishman wrote everything after endless +questioning.”</p> +<p>So you see, my dear, that our new home is not without superstitious +interests of its own. It is rather a nice idea, is it not, to have a +dead woman cruising round our promontory in a coffin? I doubt if even +at Croom you can beat that. “Makes the place kind of +homey,” as an American would say. When you come, Aunt Janet, +you will not feel lonesome, at any rate, and it will save us the trouble of +importing some of your Highland ghosts to make you feel at home in the new +land. I don’t know, but we might ask the stiff to come to tea +with us. Of course, it would be a late tea. Somewhere between +midnight and cock-crow would be about the etiquette of the thing, I +fancy!</p> +<p>But I must tell you all the realities of the Castle and around it. +So I will write again within a day or two, and try to let you know enough +to prepare you for coming here. Till then adieu, my dear.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 25, 1907.</p> +<p>I hope I did not frighten you, dear Aunt Janet, by the yarn of the lady +in the coffin. But I know you are not afraid; you have told me too +many weird stories for me to dread that. Besides, you have Second +Sight—latent, at all events. However, there won’t be any +more ghosts, or about ghosts, in this letter. I want to tell you all +about our new home. I am so glad you are coming out so soon; I am +beginning to feel so lonesome—I walk about sometimes aimlessly, and +find my thoughts drifting in such an odd way. If I didn’t know +better, I might begin to think I was in love! There is no one here to +be in love with; so make your mind easy, Aunt Janet. Not that you +would be unhappy, I know, dear, if I <i>did</i> fall in love. I +suppose I must marry some day. It is a duty now, I know, when there +is such an estate as Uncle Roger has left me. And I know this: I +shall never marry any woman unless I love her. And I am right sure +that if I do love her you will love her, too, Aunt Janet! Won’t +you, dear? It wouldn’t be half a delight if you +didn’t. It won’t if you don’t. There, +now!</p> +<p>But before I begin to describe Vissarion I shall throw a sop to you as a +chatelaine; that may give you patience to read the rest. The Castle +needs a lot of things to make it comfortable—as you would consider +it. In fact, it is absolutely destitute of everything of a domestic +nature. Uncle Roger had it vetted on the defence side, and so far it +could stand a siege. But it couldn’t cook a dinner or go +through a spring-cleaning! As you know, I am not much up in domestic +matters, and so I cannot give you details; but you may take it that it +wants everything. I don’t mean furniture, or silver, or even +gold-plate, or works of art, for it is full of the most magnificent old +things that you can imagine. I think Uncle Roger must have been a +collector, and gathered a lot of good things in all sorts of places, stored +them for years, and then sent them here. But as to glass, china, +delft, all sorts of crockery, linen, household appliances and machinery, +cooking utensils—except of the simplest—there are none. I +don’t think Uncle Roger could have lived here more than on a +temporary picnic. So far as I only am concerned, I am all right; a +gridiron and a saucepan are all <i>I</i> want—and I can use them +myself. But, dear Aunt Janet, I don’t want you to pig it. +I would like you to have everything you can imagine, and all of the very +best. Cost doesn’t count now for us, thanks to Uncle Roger; and +so I want you to order all. I know you, dear—being a +woman—won’t object to shopping. But it will have to be +wholesale. This is an enormous place, and will swallow up all you can +buy—like a quicksand. Do as you like about choosing, but get +all the help you can. Don’t be afraid of getting too +much. You can’t, or of being idle when you are here. I +assure you that when you come there will be so much to do and so many +things to think of that you will want to get away from it all. And, +besides, Aunt Janet, I hope you won’t be too long. Indeed, I +don’t wish to be selfish, but your boy is lonely, and wants +you. And when you get here you will be an <span +class="smcap">Empress</span>. I don’t altogether like doing so, +lest I should offend a millionairess like you; but it may facilitate +matters, and the way’s of commerce are strict, though devious. +So I send you a cheque for £1,000 for the little things: and a letter +to the bank to honour your own cheques for any amount I have got.</p> +<p>I think, by the way, I should, if I were you, take or send out a few +servants—not too many at first, only just enough to attend on our two +selves. You can arrange to send for any more you may want +later. Engage them, and arrange for their being paid—when they +are in our service we must treat them well—and then they can be at +our call as you find that we want them. I think you should secure, +say, fifty or a hundred—’tis an awfu’ big place, Aunt +Janet! And in the same way will you secure—and, of course, +arrange for pay similarly—a hundred men, exclusive of any servants +you think it well to have. I should like the General, if he can give +the time, to choose or pass them. I want clansmen that I can depend +on, if need be. We are going to live in a country which is at present +strange to us, and it is well to look things in the face. I know Sir +Colin will only have men who are a credit to Scotland and to Ross and to +Croom—men who will impress the Blue Mountaineers. I know they +will take them to their hearts—certainly if any of them are bachelors +the girls will! Forgive me! But if we are to settle here, our +followers will probably want to settle also. Moreover, the Blue +Mountaineers may want followers also! And will want them to settle, +too, and have successors!</p> +<p>Now for the description of the place. Well, I simply can’t +just now. It is all so wonderful and so beautiful. The +Castle—I have written so much already about other things that I +really must keep the Castle for another letter! Love to Sir Colin if +he is at Croom. And oh, dear Aunt Janet, how I wish that my dear +mother was coming out! It all seems so dark and empty without +her. How she would have enjoyed it! How proud she would have +been! And, my dear, if she could be with us again, how grateful she +would have been to you for all you have done for her boy! As I am, +believe me, most truly and sincerely and affectionately grateful.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet MacKelpie</i>, +<i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 26, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>Please read this as if it was a part of the letter I wrote +yesterday.</p> +<p>The Castle itself is so vast that I really can’t describe it in +detail. So I am waiting till you come; and then you and I will go +over it together and learn all that we can about it. We shall take +Rooke with us, and, as he is supposed to know every part of it, from the +keep to the torture-chamber, we can spend a few days over it. Of +course, I have been over most of it, since I came—that, is, I went at +various times to see different portions—the battlements, the +bastions, the old guard-room, the hall, the chapel, the walls, the +roof. And I have been through some of the network of rock +passages. Uncle Roger must have spent a mint of money on it, so far +as I can see; and though I am not a soldier, I have been in so many places +fortified in different ways that I am not entirely ignorant of the +subject. He has restored it in such an up-to-date way that it is +practically impregnable to anything under big guns or a siege-train. +He has gone so far as to have certain outworks and the keep covered with +armoured plating of what looks like harveyized steel. You will wonder +when you see it. But as yet I really know only a few rooms, and am +familiar with only one—my own room. The drawing-room—not +the great hall, which is a vast place; the library—a magnificent one, +but in sad disorder—we must get a librarian some day to put it in +trim; and the drawing-room and boudoir and bedroom suite which I have +selected for you, are all fine. But my own room is what suits me +best, though I do not think you would care for it for yourself. If +you do, you shall have it. It was Uncle Roger’s own room when +he stayed here; living in it for a few days served to give me more insight +to his character—or rather to his mind—than I could have +otherwise had. It is just the kind of place I like myself; so, +naturally, I understand the other chap who liked it too. It is a fine +big room, not quite within the Castle, but an outlying part of it. It +is not detached, or anything of that sort, but is a sort of garden-room +built on to it. There seems to have been always some sort of place +where it is, for the passages and openings inside seem to accept or +recognize it. It can be shut off if necessary—it would be in +case of attack—by a great slab of steel, just like the door of a +safe, which slides from inside the wall, and can be operated from either +inside or outside—if you know how. That is from my room or from +within the keep. The mechanism is a secret, and no one but Rooke and +I know it. The room opens out through a great French window—the +French window is modern, I take it, and was arranged by or for Uncle Roger; +I think there must have been always a large opening there, for centuries at +least—which opens on a wide terrace or balcony of white marble, +extending right and left. From this a white marble stair lies +straight in front of the window, and leads down to the garden. The +balcony and staircase are quite ancient—of old Italian work, +beautifully carved, and, of course, weather-worn through centuries. +There is just that little tinging of green here and there which makes all +outdoor marble so charming. It is hard to believe at times that it is +a part of a fortified castle, it is so elegant and free and open. The +first glance of it would make a burglar’s heart glad. He would +say to himself: “Here is the sort of crib I like when I’m on +the job. You can just walk in and out as you choose.” +But, Aunt Janet, old Roger was cuter than any burglar. He had the +place so guarded that the burglar would have been a baffled burglar. +There are two steel shields which can slide out from the wall and lock into +the other side right across the whole big window. One is a grille of +steel bands that open out into diamond-shaped lozenges. Nothing +bigger than a kitten could get through; and yet you can see the garden and +the mountains and the whole view—much the same as you ladies can see +through your veils. The other is a great sheet of steel, which slides +out in a similar way in different grooves. It is not, of course, so +heavy and strong as the safe-door which covers the little opening in the +main wall, but Rooke tells me it is proof against the heaviest +rifle-hall.</p> +<p>Having told you this, I must tell you, too, Aunt Janet, lest you should +be made anxious by the <i>arrière-pensée</i> of all these +warlike measures of defence, that I always sleep at night with one of these +iron screens across the window. Of course, when I am awake I leave it +open. As yet I have tried only, but not used, the grille; and I +don’t think I shall ever use anything else, for it is a perfect +guard. If it should be tampered with from outside it would sound an +alarm at the head of the bed, and the pressing of a button would roll out +the solid steel screen in front of it. As a matter of fact, I have +been so used to the open that I don’t feel comfortable shut in. +I only close windows against cold or rain. The weather here is +delightful—as yet, at all events—but they tell me that the +rainy season will be on us before very long.</p> +<p>I think you will like my den, aunty dear, though it will doubtless be a +worry to you to see it so untidy. But that can’t be +helped. I must be untidy <i>somewhere</i>; and it is best in my own +den!</p> +<p>Again I find my letter so long that I must cut it off now and go on +again to-night. So this must go as it stands. I shall not cause +you to wait to hear all I can tell you about our new home.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 29, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>My den looks out, as I told you in my last letter, on the garden, or, to +speak more accurately, on <i>one</i> of the gardens, for there are acres of +them. This is the old one, which must be almost as old as the Castle +itself, for it was within the defences in the old days of bows. The +wall that surrounds the inner portion of it has long ago been levelled, but +sufficient remains at either end where it joined the outer defences to show +the long casemates for the bowmen to shoot through and the raised stone +gallery where they stood. It is just the same kind of building as the +stone-work of the sentry’s walk on the roof and of the great old +guard-room under it.</p> +<p>But whatever the garden may have been, and no matter how it was guarded, +it is a most lovely place. There are whole sections of garden here of +various styles—Greek, Italian, French, German, Dutch, British, +Spanish, African, Moorish—all the older nationalities. I am +going to have a new one laid out for you—a Japanese garden. I +have sent to the great gardener of Japan, Minaro, to make the plans for it, +and to come over with workmen to carry it out. He is to bring trees +and shrubs and flowers and stone-work, and everything that can be required; +and you shall superintend the finishing, if not the doing, of it +yourself. We have such a fine head of water here, and the climate is, +they tell me, usually so lovely that we can do anything in the gardening +way. If it should ever turn out that the climate does not suit, we +shall put a great high glass roof over it, and <i>make</i> a suitable +climate.</p> +<p>This garden in front of my room is the old Italian garden. It must +have been done with extraordinary taste and care, for there is not a bit of +it which is not rarely beautiful. Sir Thomas Browne himself, for all +his <i>Quincunx</i>, would have been delighted with it, and have found +material for another “Garden of Cyrus.” It is so big that +there are endless “episodes” of garden beauty I think all Italy +must have been ransacked in old times for garden stone-work of exceptional +beauty; and these treasures have been put together by some +master-hand. Even the formal borders of the walks are of old porous +stone, which takes the weather-staining so beautifully, and are carved in +endless variety. Now that the gardens have been so long neglected or +left in abeyance, the green staining has become perfect. Though the +stone-work is itself intact, it has all the picturesque effect of the wear +and ruin wrought by many centuries. I am having it kept for you just +as it is, except that I have had the weeds and undergrowth cleared away so +that its beauties might be visible.</p> +<p>But it is not merely the architect work of the garden that is so +beautiful, nor is the assembling there of the manifold wealth of floral +beauty—there is the beauty that Nature creates by the hand of her +servant, Time. You see, Aunt Janet, how the beautiful garden inspires +a danger-hardened old tramp like me to high-grade sentiments of poetic +fancy! Not only have limestone and sandstone, and even marble, grown +green in time, but even the shrubs planted and then neglected have +developed new kinds of beauty of their own. In some far-distant time +some master-gardener of the Vissarions has tried to realize an +idea—that of tiny plants that would grow just a little higher than +the flowers, so that the effect of an uneven floral surface would be +achieved without any hiding of anything in the garden seen from +anywhere. This is only my reading of what has been from the effect of +what is! In the long period of neglect the shrubs have outlived the +flowers. Nature has been doing her own work all the time in enforcing +the survival of the fittest. The shrubs have grown and grown, and +have overtopped flower and weed, according to their inherent varieties of +stature; to the effect that now you see irregularly scattered through the +garden quite a number—for it is a big place—of vegetable +products which from a landscape standpoint have something of the general +effect of statues without the cramping feeling of detail. Whoever it +was that laid out that part of the garden or made the choice of items, must +have taken pains to get strange specimens, for all those taller shrubs are +in special colours, mostly yellow or white—white cypress, white +holly, yellow yew, grey-golden box, silver juniper, variegated maple, +spiraea, and numbers of dwarf shrubs whose names I don’t know. +I only know that when the moon shines—and this, my dear Aunt Janet, +is the very land of moonlight itself!—they all look ghastly +pale. The effect is weird to the last degree, and I am sure that you +will enjoy it. For myself, as you know, uncanny things hold no +fear. I suppose it is that I have been up against so many different +kinds of fears, or, rather, of things which for most people have terrors of +their own, that I have come to have a contempt—not an active +contempt, you know, but a tolerative contempt—for the whole family of +them. And you, too, will enjoy yourself here famously, I know. +You’ll have to collect all the stories of such matters in our new +world and make a new book of facts for the Psychical Research +Society. It will be nice to see your own name on a title-page, +won’t it, Aunt Janet?</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>January</i> 30, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>I stopped writing last night—do you know why? Because I +wanted to write more! This sounds a paradox, but it is true. +The fact is that, as I go on telling you of this delightful place, I keep +finding out new beauties myself. Broadly speaking, it <i>is all</i> +beautiful. In the long view or the little view—as the telescope +or the microscope directs—it is all the same. Your eye can turn +on nothing that does not entrance you. I was yesterday roaming about +the upper part of time Castle, and came across some delightful nooks, which +at once I became fond of, and already like them as if I had known them all +my life. I felt at first a sense of greediness when I had +appropriated to myself several rooms in different places—I who have +never in my life had more than one room which I could call my own—and +that only for a time! But when I slept on it the feeling changed, and +its aspect is now not half bad. It is now under another +classification—under a much more important +label—<i>proprietorship</i>. If I were writing philosophy, I +should here put in a cynical remark:</p> +<p>“Selfishness is an appanage of poverty. It might appear in +the stud-book as by ‘Morals’ out of +‘Wants.’”</p> +<p>I have now three bedrooms arranged as my own particular dens. One +of the other two was also a choice of Uncle Roger’s. It is at +the top of one of the towers to the extreme east, and from it I can catch +the first ray of light over the mountains. I slept in it last night, +and when I woke, as in my travelling I was accustomed to do, at dawn, I saw +from my bed through an open window—a small window, for it is in a +fortress tower—the whole great expanse to the east. Not far +off, and springing from the summit of a great ruin, where long ago a seed +had fallen, rose a great silver-birch, and the half-transparent, drooping +branches and hanging clusters of leaf broke the outline of the grey hills +beyond, for the hills were, for a wonder, grey instead of blue. There +was a mackerel sky, with the clouds dropping on the mountain-tops till you +could hardly say which was which. It was a mackerel sky of a very +bold and extraordinary kind—not a dish of mackerel, but a world of +mackerel! The mountains are certainly most lovely. In this +clear air they usually seem close at hand. It was only this morning, +with the faint glimpse of the dawn whilst the night clouds were still +unpierced by the sunlight, that I seemed to realize their greatness. +I have seen the same enlightening effect of aerial perspective a few times +before—in Colorado, in Upper India, in Thibet, and in the uplands +amongst the Andes.</p> +<p>There is certainly something in looking at things from above which tends +to raise one’s own self-esteem. From the height, inequalities +simply disappear. This I have often felt on a big scale when +ballooning, or, better still, from an aeroplane. Even here from the +tower the outlook is somehow quite different from below. One realizes +the place and all around it, not in detail, but as a whole. I shall +certainly sleep up here occasionally, when you have come and we have +settled down to our life as it is to be. I shall live in my own room +downstairs, where I can have the intimacy of the garden. But I shall +appreciate it all the more from now and again losing the sense of intimacy +for a while, and surveying it without the sense of one’s own +self-importance.</p> +<p>I hope you have started on that matter of the servants. For +myself, I don’t care a button whether or not there are any servants +at all; but I know well that you won’t come till you have made your +arrangements regarding them! Another thing, Aunt Janet. You +must not be killed with work here, and it is all so vast . . . Why +can’t you get some sort of secretary who will write your letters and +do all that sort of thing for you? I know you won’t have a man +secretary; but there are lots of women now who can write shorthand and +typewrite. You could doubtless get one in the clan—someone with +a desire to better herself. I know you would make her happy +here. If she is not too young, all the better; she will have learned +to hold her tongue and mind her own business, and not be too +inquisitive. That would be a nuisance when we are finding our way +about in a new country and trying to reconcile all sorts of opposites in a +whole new country with new people, whom at first we shan’t +understand, and who certainly won’t understand us; where every man +carries a gun with as little thought of it as he has of buttons! +Good-bye for a while.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>February</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>I am back in my own room again. Already it seems to me that to get +here again is like coming home. I have been going about for the last +few days amongst the mountaineers and trying to make their +acquaintance. It is a tough job; and I can see that there will be +nothing but to stick to it. They are in reality the most primitive +people I ever met—the most fixed to their own ideas, which belong to +centuries back. I can understand now what people were like in +England—not in Queen Elizabeth’s time, for that was civilized +time, but in the time of Coeur-de-Lion, or even earlier—and all the +time with the most absolute mastery of weapons of precision. Every +man carries a rifle—and knows how to use it, too. I do believe +they would rather go without their clothes than their guns if they had to +choose between them. They also carry a handjar, which used to be +their national weapon. It is a sort of heavy, straight cutlass, and +they are so expert with it as well as so strong that it is as facile in the +hands of a Blue Mountaineer as is a foil in the hands of a Persian +<i>maître d’armes</i>. They are so proud and reserved +that they make one feel quite small, and an “outsider” as +well. I can see quite well that they rather resent my being here at +all. It is not personal, for when alone with me they are genial, +almost brotherly; but the moment a few of them get together they are like a +sort of jury, with me as the criminal before them. It is an odd +situation, and quite new to me. I am pretty well accustomed to all +sorts of people, from cannibals to Mahatmas, but I’m blessed if I +ever struck such a type as this—so proud, so haughty, so reserved, so +distant, so absolutely fearless, so honourable, so hospitable. Uncle +Roger’s head was level when he chose them out as a people to live +amongst. Do you know, Aunt Janet, I can’t help feeling that +they are very much like your own Highlanders—only more so. +I’m sure of one thing: that in the end we shall get on capitally +together. But it will be a slow job, and will need a lot of +patience. I have a feeling in my bones that when they know me better +they will be very loyal and very true; and I am not a hair’s-breadth +afraid of them or anything they shall or might do. That is, of +course, if I live long enough for them to have time to know me. +Anything may happen with such an indomitable, proud people to whom pride is +more than victuals. After all, it only needs one man out of a crowd +to have a wrong idea or to make a mistake as to one’s +motive—and there you are. But it will be all right that way, I +am sure. I am come here to stay, as Uncle Roger wished. And +stay I shall even if it has to be in a little bed of my own beyond the +garden—seven feet odd long, and not too narrow—or else a +stone-box of equal proportions in the vaults of St. Sava’s Church +across the Creek—the old burial-place of the Vissarions and other +noble people for a good many centuries back . . .</p> +<p>I have been reading over this letter, dear Aunt Janet, and I am afraid +the record is rather an alarming one. But don’t you go building +up superstitious horrors or fears on it. Honestly, I am only joking +about death—a thing to which I have been rather prone for a good many +years back. Not in very good taste, I suppose, but certainly very +useful when the old man with the black wings goes flying about you day and +night in strange places, sometimes visible and at others invisible. +But you can always hear wings, especially in the dark, when you cannot see +them. <i>You</i> know that, Aunt Janet, who come of a race of +warriors, and who have special sight behind or through the black +curtain.</p> +<p>Honestly, I am in no whit afraid of the Blue Mountaineers, nor have I a +doubt of them. I love them already for their splendid qualities, and +I am prepared to love them for themselves. I feel, too, that they +will love me (and incidentally they are sure to love you). I have a +sort of undercurrent of thought that there is something in their minds +concerning me—something not painful, but disturbing; something that +has a base in the past; something that has hope in it and possible pride, +and not a little respect. As yet they can have had no opportunity of +forming such impression from seeing me or from any thing I have done. +Of course, it may be that, although they are fine, tall, stalwart men, I am +still a head and shoulders over the tallest of them that I have yet +seen. I catch their eyes looking up at me as though they were +measuring me, even when they are keeping away from me, or, rather, keeping +me from them at arm’s length. I suppose I shall understand what +it all means some day. In the meantime there is nothing to do but to +go on my own way—which is Uncle Roger’s—and wait and be +patient and just. I have learned the value of that, any way, in my +life amongst strange peoples. Good-night.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your loving<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Janet +MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>February</i> 24, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt Janet</span>,</p> +<p>I am more than rejoiced to hear that you are coming here so soon. +This isolation is, I think, getting on my nerves. I thought for a +while last night that I was getting on, but the reaction came all too +soon. I was in my room in the east turret, the room on the +<i>corbeille</i>, and saw here and there men passing silently and swiftly +between the trees as though in secret. By-and-by I located their +meeting-place, which was in a hollow in the midst of the wood just outside +the “natural” garden, as the map or plan of the castle calls +it. I stalked that place for all I was worth, and suddenly walked +straight into the midst of them. There were perhaps two or three +hundred gathered, about the very finest lot of men I ever saw in my +life. It was in its way quite an experience, and one not likely to be +repeated, for, as I told you, in this country every man carries a rifle, +and knows how to use it. I do not think I have seen a single man (or +married man either) without his rifle since I came here. I wonder if +they take them with them to bed! Well, the instant after I stood +amongst them every rifle in the place was aimed straight at me. +Don’t be alarmed, Aunt Janet; they did not fire at me. If they +had I should not be writing to you now. I should be in that little +bit of real estate or the stone box, and about as full of lead as I could +hold. Ordinarily, I take it, they would have fired on the instant; +that is the etiquette here. But this time they—all separately +but all together—made a new rule. No one said a word or, so far +as I could see, made a movement. Here came in my own +experience. I had been more than once in a tight place of something +of the same kind, so I simply behaved in the most natural way I +could. I felt conscious—it was all in a flash, +remember—that if I showed fear or cause for fear, or even +acknowledged danger by so much as even holding up my hands, I should have +drawn all the fire. They all remained stock-still, as though they had +been turned into stone, for several seconds. Then a queer kind of +look flashed round them like wind over corn—something like the +surprise one shows unconsciously on waking in a strange place. A +second after they each dropped the rifle to the hollow of his arm and stood +ready for anything. It was all as regular and quick and simultaneous +as a salute at St. James’s Palace.</p> +<p>Happily I had no arms of any kind with me, so that there could be no +complication. I am rather a quick hand myself when there is any +shooting to be done. However, there was no trouble here, but the +contrary; the Blue Mountaineers—it sounds like a new sort of Bond +Street band, doesn’t it?—treated me in quite a different way +than they did when I first met them. They were amazingly civil, +almost deferential. But, all time same, they were more distant than +ever, and all the time I was there I could get not a whit closer to +them. They seemed in a sort of way to be afraid or in awe of +me. No doubt that will soon pass away, and when we know one another +better we shall become close friends. They are too fine fellows not +to be worth a little waiting for. (That sentence, by the way, is a +pretty bad sentence! In old days you would have slippered me for +it!) Your journey is all arranged, and I hope you will be +comfortable. Rooke will meet you at Liverpool Street and look after +everything.</p> +<p>I shan’t write again, but when we meet at Fiume I shall begin to +tell you all the rest. Till then, good-bye. A good journey to +you, and a happy meeting to us both.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Rupert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Janet MacKelpie</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>to Sir Colin +MacKelpie</i>, <i>United Service Club</i>, <i>London</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>February</i> 28, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Uncle</span>,</p> +<p>I had a very comfortable journey all across Europe. Rupert wrote +to me some time ago to say that when I got to Vissarion I should be an +Empress, and he certainly took care that on the way here I should be +treated like one. Rooke, who seems a wonderful old man, was in the +next compartment to that reserved for me. At Harwich he had +everything arranged perfectly, and so right on to Fiume. Everywhere +there were attentive officials waiting. I had a carriage all to +myself, which I joined at Antwerp—a whole carriage with a suite of +rooms, dining-room, drawing-room, bedroom, even bath-room. There was +a cook with a kitchen of his own on board, a real chef like a French +nobleman in disguise. There were also a waiter and a +servant-maid. My own maid Maggie was quite awed at first. We +were as far as Cologne before she summoned up courage to order them +about. Whenever we stopped Rooke was on the platform with local +officials, and kept the door of my carriage like a sentry on duty.</p> +<p>At Fiume, when the train slowed down, I saw Rupert waiting on the +platform. He looked magnificent, towering over everybody there like a +giant. He is in perfect health, and seemed glad to see me. He +took me off at once on an automobile to a quay where an electric launch was +waiting. This took us on board a beautiful big steam-yacht, which was +waiting with full steam up and—how he got there I don’t +know—Rooke waiting at the gangway.</p> +<p>I had another suite all to myself. Rupert and I had dinner +together—I think the finest dinner I ever sat down to. This was +very nice of Rupert, for it was all for me. He himself only ate a +piece of steak and drank a glass of water. I went to bed early, for, +despite the luxury of the journey, I was very tired.</p> +<p>I awoke in the grey of the morning, and came on deck. We were +close to the coast. Rupert was on the bridge with the Captain, and +Rooke was acting as pilot. When Rupert saw me, he ran down the ladder +and took me up on the bridge. He left me there while he ran down +again and brought me up a lovely fur cloak which I had never seen. He +put it on me and kissed me. He is the tenderest-hearted boy in the +world, as well as the best and bravest! He made me take his arm +whilst he pointed out Vissarion, towards which we were steering. It +is the most lovely place I ever saw. I won’t stop to describe +it now, for it will be better that you see it for yourself and enjoy it all +fresh as I did.</p> +<p>The Castle is an immense place. You had better ship off, as soon +as all is ready here and you can arrange it, the servants whom I engaged; +and I am not sure that we shall not want as many more. There has +hardly been a mop or broom on the place for centuries, and I doubt if it +ever had a thorough good cleaning all over since it was built. And, +do you know, Uncle, that it might be well to double that little army of +yours that you are arranging for Rupert? Indeed, the boy told me +himself that he was going to write to you about it. I think old +Lachlan and his wife, Sandy’s Mary, had better be in charge of the +maids when they come over. A lot of lassies like yon will be iller to +keep together than a flock of sheep. So it will be wise to have +authority over them, especially as none of them speaks a word of foreign +tongues. Rooke—you saw him at the station at Liverpool +Street—will, if he be available, go over to bring the whole body +here. He has offered to do it if I should wish. And, by the +way, I think it will be well, when the time comes for their departure, if +not only the lassies, but Lachlan and Sandy’s Mary, too, will call +him <i>Mister</i> Rooke. He is a very important person indeed +here. He is, in fact, a sort of Master of the Castle, and though he +is very self-suppressing, is a man of rarely fine qualities. Also it +will be well to keep authority. When your clansmen come over, he will +have charge of them, too. Dear me! I find I have written such a +long letter, I must stop and get to work. I shall write again.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your very affectionate<br /> +<span class="smcap">Janet</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>From the Same to the Same</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>March</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Uncle</span>,</p> +<p>All goes well here, and as there is no news, I only write because you +are a dear, and I want to thank you for all the trouble you have taken for +me—and for Rupert. I think we had better wait awhile before +bringing out the servants. Rooke is away on some business for Rupert, +and will not be back for some time; Rupert thinks it may be a couple of +months. There is no one else that he could send to take charge of the +party from home, and I don’t like the idea of all those lassies +coming out without an escort. Even Lachlan and Sandy’s Mary are +ignorant of foreign languages and foreign ways. But as soon as Rooke +returns we can have them all out. I dare say you will have some of +your clansmen ready by then, and I think the poor girls, who may feel a bit +strange in a new country like this, where the ways are so different from +ours, will feel easier when they know that there are some of their own +mankind near them. Perhaps it might be well that those of them who +are engaged to each other—I know there are some—should marry +before they come out here. It will be more convenient in many ways, +and will save lodgment, and, besides, these Blue Mountaineers are very +handsome men. Good-night.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Janet</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Sir Colin MacKelpie</i>, <i>Croom</i>, <i>to Janet MacKelpie</i>, +<i>Vissarion</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>March</i> 9, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Janet</span>,</p> +<p>I have duly received both your letters, and am delighted to find you are +so well pleased with your new home. It must certainly be a very +lovely and unique place, and I am myself longing to see it. I came up +here three days ago, and am, as usual, feeling all the better for a breath +of my native air. Time goes on, my dear, and I am beginning to feel +not so young as I was. Tell Rupert that the men are all fit, and +longing to get out to him. They are certainly a fine lot of +men. I don’t think I ever saw a finer. I have had them +drilled and trained as soldiers, and, in addition, have had them taught a +lot of trades just as they selected themselves. So he shall have nigh +him men who can turn their hands to anything—not, of course, that +they all know every trade, but amongst them there is someone who can do +whatever may be required. There are blacksmiths, carpenters, +farriers, saddle-makers, gardeners, plumbers, cutlers, gunsmiths, so, as +they all are farmers by origin and sportsmen by practice, they will make a +rare household body of men. They are nearly all first-class shots, +and I am having them practise with revolvers. They are being taught +fencing and broadsword and ju-jitsu; I have organized them in military +form, with their own sergeants and corporals. This morning I had an +inspection, and I assure you, my dear, they could give points to the +Household troop in matters of drill. I tell you I am proud of my +clansmen!</p> +<p>I think you are quite wise about waiting to bring out the lassies, and +wiser still about the marrying. I dare say there will be more +marrying when they all get settled in a foreign country. I shall be +glad of it, for as Rupert is going to settle there, it will be good for him +to have round him a little colony of his own people. And it will be +good for them, too, for I know he will be good to them—as you will, +my dear. The hills are barren here, and life is hard, and each year +there is more and more demand for crofts, and sooner or later our people +must thin out. And mayhap our little settlement of MacKelpie clan +away beyond the frontiers of the Empire may be some service to the nation +and the King. But this is a dream! I see that here I am +beginning to realise in myself one part of Isaiah’s prophecy:</p> +<p>“Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream +dreams.”</p> +<p>By the way, my dear, talking about dreams, I am sending you out some +boxes of books which were in your rooms. They are nearly all on odd +subjects that <i>we</i> understand—Second Sight, Ghosts, Dreams (that +was what brought the matter to my mind just now), superstitions, Vampires, +Wehr-Wolves, and all such uncanny folk and things. I looked over some +of these books, and found your marks and underlining and comments, so I +fancy you will miss them in your new home. You will, I am sure, feel +more at ease with such old friends close to you. I have taken the +names and sent the list to London, so that when you pay me a visit again +you will be at home in all ways. If you come to me altogether, you +will be more welcome still—if possible. But I am sure that +Rupert, who I know loves you very much, will try to make you so happy that +you will not want to leave him. So I will have to come out often to +see you both, even at the cost of leaving Croom for so long. Strange, +is it not? that now, when, through Roger Melton’s more than kind +remembrance of me, I am able to go where I will and do what I will, I want +more and more to remain at home by my own ingle. I don’t think +that anyone but you or Rupert could get me away from it. I am working +very hard at my little regiment, as I call it. They are simply fine, +and will, I am sure, do us credit. The uniforms are all made, and +well made, too. There is not a man of them that does not look like an +officer. I tell you, Janet, that when we turn out the Vissarion Guard +we shall feel proud of them. I dare say that a couple of months will +do all that can be done here. I shall come out with them +myself. Rupert writes me that he thinks it will be more comfortable +to come out direct in a ship of our own. So when I go up to London in +a few weeks’ time I shall see about chartering a suitable +vessel. It will certainly save a lot of trouble to us and anxiety to +our people. Would it not be well when I am getting the ship, if I +charter one big enough to take out all your lassies, too? It is not +as if they were strangers. After all, my dear, soldiers are soldiers +and lassies are lassies. But these are all kinsfolk, as well as +clansmen and clanswomen, and I, their Chief, shall be there. Let me +know your views and wishes in this respect. Mr. Trent, whom I saw +before leaving London, asked me to “convey to you his most respectful +remembrances”—these were his very words, and here they +are. Trent is a nice fellow, and I like him. He has promised to +pay me a visit here before the month is up, and I look forward to our both +enjoying ourselves.</p> +<p>Good-bye, my dear, and the Lord watch over you and our dear boy.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your affectionate Uncle,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Colin Alexander MacKelpie</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>BOOK III: THE COMING OF THE LADY</h2> +<h3>Rupert Sent Leger’s Journal.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>I have waited till now—well into midday—before beginning to +set down the details of the strange episode of last night. I have +spoken with persons whom I know to be of normal type. I have +breakfasted, as usual heartily, and have every reason to consider myself in +perfect health and sanity. So that the record following may be +regarded as not only true in substance, but exact as to details. I +have investigated and reported on too many cases for the Psychical Research +Society to be ignorant of the necessity for absolute accuracy in such +matters of even the minutest detail.</p> +<p>Yesterday was Tuesday, the second day of April, 1907. I passed a +day of interest, with its fair amount of work of varying kinds. Aunt +Janet and I lunched together, had a stroll round the gardens after +tea—especially examining the site for the new Japanese garden, which +we shall call “Janet’s Garden.” We went in +mackintoshes, for the rainy season is in its full, the only sign of its not +being a repetition of the Deluge being that breaks in the continuance are +beginning. They are short at present but will doubtless enlarge +themselves as the season comes towards an end. We dined together at +seven. After dinner I had a cigar, and then joined Aunt Janet for an +hour in her drawing-room. I left her at half-past ten, when I went to +my own room and wrote some letters. At ten minutes past eleven I +wound my watch, so I know the time accurately. Having prepared for +bed, I drew back the heavy curtain in front of my window, which opens on +the marble steps into the Italian garden. I had put out my light +before drawing back the curtain, for I wanted to have a look at the scene +before turning in. Aunt Janet has always had an old-fashioned idea of +the need (or propriety, I hardly know which) of keeping windows closed and +curtains drawn. I am gradually getting her to leave my room alone in +this respect, but at present the change is in its fitful stage, and of +course I must not hurry matters or be too persistent, as it would hurt her +feelings. This night was one of those under the old +régime. It was a delight to look out, for the scene was +perfect of its own kind. The long spell of rain—the ceaseless +downpour which had for the time flooded everywhere—had passed, and +water in abnormal places rather trickled than ran. We were now +beginning to be in the sloppy rather than the deluged stage. There +was plenty of light to see by, for the moon had begun to show out fitfully +through the masses of flying clouds. The uncertain light made weird +shadows with the shrubs and statues in the garden. The long straight +walk which leads from the marble steps is strewn with fine sand white from +the quartz strand in the nook to the south of the Castle. Tall shrubs +of white holly, yew, juniper, cypress, and variegated maple and spiraea, +which stood at intervals along the walk and its branches, appeared +ghost-like in the fitful moonlight. The many vases and statues and +urns, always like phantoms in a half-light, were more than ever +weird. Last night the moonlight was unusually effective, and showed +not only the gardens down to the defending wall, but the deep gloom of the +great forest-trees beyond; and beyond that, again, to where the mountain +chain began, the forest running up their silvered slopes flamelike in form, +deviated here and there by great crags and the outcropping rocky sinews of +the vast mountains.</p> +<p>Whilst I was looking at this lovely prospect, I thought I saw something +white flit, like a modified white flash, at odd moments from one to another +of the shrubs or statues—anything which would afford cover from +observation. At first I was not sure whether I really saw anything or +did not. This was in itself a little disturbing to me, for I have +been so long trained to minute observation of facts surrounding me, on +which often depend not only my own life, but the lives of others, that I +have become accustomed to trust my eyes; and anything creating the faintest +doubt in this respect is a cause of more or less anxiety to me. Now, +however, that my attention was called to myself, I looked more keenly, and +in a very short time was satisfied that something was +moving—something clad in white. It was natural enough that my +thoughts should tend towards something uncanny—the belief that this +place is haunted, conveyed in a thousand ways of speech and +inference. Aunt Janet’s eerie beliefs, fortified by her books +on occult subjects—and of late, in our isolation from the rest of the +world, the subject of daily conversations—helped to this end. +No wonder, then, that, fully awake and with senses all on edge, I waited +for some further manifestation from this ghostly visitor—as in my +mind I took it to be. It must surely be a ghost or spiritual +manifestation of some kind which moved in this silent way. In order +to see and hear better, I softly moved back the folding grille, opened the +French window, and stepped out, bare-footed and pyjama-clad as I was, on +the marble terrace. How cold the wet marble was! How heavy +smelled the rain-laden garden! It was as though the night and the +damp, and even the moonlight, were drawing the aroma from all the flowers +that blossomed. The whole night seemed to exhale heavy, +half-intoxicating odours! I stood at the head of the marble steps, +and all immediately before me was ghostly in the extreme—the white +marble terrace and steps, the white walks of quartz-sand glistening under +the fitful moonlight; the shrubs of white or pale green or +yellow,—all looking dim and ghostly in the glamorous light; the white +statues and vases. And amongst them, still flitting noiselessly, that +mysterious elusive figure which I could not say was based on fact or +imagination. I held my breath, listening intently for every sound; +but sound there was none, save those of the night and its denizens. +Owls hooted in the forest; bats, taking advantage of the cessation of the +rain, flitted about silently, like shadows in the air. But there was +no more sign of moving ghost or phantom, or whatever I had seen might have +been—if, indeed, there had been anything except imagination.</p> +<p>So, after waiting awhile, I returned to my room, closed the window, drew +the grille across again, and dragged the heavy curtain before the opening; +then, having extinguished my candles, went to bed in the dark. In a +few minutes I must have been asleep.</p> +<p>“What was that?” I almost heard the words of my own +thought as I sat up in bed wide awake. To memory rather than present +hearing the disturbing sound had seemed like the faint tapping at the +window. For some seconds I listened, mechanically but intently, with +bated breath and that quick beating of the heart which in a timorous person +speaks for fear, and for expectation in another. In the stillness the +sound came again—this time a very, very faint but unmistakable +tapping at the glass door.</p> +<p>I jumped up, drew back the curtain, and for a moment stood appalled.</p> +<p>There, outside on the balcony, in the now brilliant moonlight, stood a +woman, wrapped in white grave-clothes saturated with water, which dripped +on the marble floor, making a pool which trickled slowly down the wet +steps. Attitude and dress and circumstance all conveyed the idea +that, though she moved and spoke, she was not quick, but dead. She +was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of +death. Through the still white of her face, which made her look as +cold as the wet marble she stood on, her dark eyes seemed to gleam with a +strange but enticing lustre. Even in the unsearching moonlight, which +is after all rather deceptive than illuminative, I could not but notice one +rare quality of her eyes. Each had some quality of refraction which +made it look as though it contained a star. At every movement she +made, the stars exhibited new beauties, of more rare and radiant +force. She looked at me imploringly as the heavy curtain rolled back, +and in eloquent gestures implored me to admit her. Instinctively I +obeyed; I rolled back the steel grille, and threw open the French +window. I noticed that she shivered and trembled as the glass door +fell open. Indeed, she seemed so overcome with cold as to seem almost +unable to move. In the sense of her helplessness all idea of the +strangeness of the situation entirely disappeared. It was not as if +my first idea of death taken from her cerements was negatived. It was +simply that I did not think of it at all; I was content to accept things as +they were—she was a woman, and in some dreadful trouble; that was +enough.</p> +<p>I am thus particular about my own emotions, as I may have to refer to +them again in matters of comprehension or comparison. The whole thing +is so vastly strange and abnormal that the least thing may afterwards give +some guiding light or clue to something otherwise not understandable. +I have always found that in recondite matters first impressions are of more +real value than later conclusions. We humans place far too little +reliance on instinct as against reason; and yet instinct is the great gift +of Nature to all animals for their protection and the fulfilment of their +functions generally.</p> +<p>When I stepped out on the balcony, not thinking of my costume, I found +that the woman was benumbed and hardly able to move. Even when I +asked her to enter, and supplemented my words with gestures in case she +should not understand my language, she stood stock-still, only rocking +slightly to and fro as though she had just strength enough left to balance +herself on her feet. I was afraid, from the condition in which she +was, that she might drop down dead at any moment. So I took her by +the hand to lead her in. But she seemed too weak to even make the +attempt. When I pulled her slightly forward, thinking to help her, +she tottered, and would have fallen had I not caught her in my arms. +Then, half lifting her, I moved her forwards. Her feet, relieved of +her weight, now seemed able to make the necessary effort; and so, I almost +carrying her, we moved into the room. She was at the very end of her +strength; I had to lift her over the sill. In obedience to her +motion, I closed the French window and bolted it. I supposed the +warmth of the room—though cool, it was warmer than the damp air +without—affected her quickly, for on the instant she seemed to begin +to recover herself. In a few seconds, as though she had reacquired +her strength, she herself pulled the heavy curtain across the window. +This left us in darkness, through which I heard her say in English:</p> +<p>“Light. Get a light!”</p> +<p>I found matches, and at once lit a candle. As the wick flared, she +moved over to the door of the room, and tried if the lock and bolt were +fastened. Satisfied as to this, she moved towards me, her wet shroud +leaving a trail of moisture on the green carpet. By this time the wax +of the candle had melted sufficiently to let me see her clearly. She +was shaking and quivering as though in an ague; she drew the wet shroud +around her piteously. Instinctively I spoke:</p> +<p>“Can I do anything for you?”</p> +<p>She answered, still in English, and in a voice of thrilling, almost +piercing sweetness, which seemed somehow to go straight to my heart, and +affected me strangely: “Give me warmth.”</p> +<p>I hurried to the fireplace. It was empty; there was no fire +laid. I turned to her, and said:</p> +<p>“Wait just a few minutes here. I shall call someone, and get +help—and fire.”</p> +<p>Her voice seemed to ring with intensity as she answered without a +pause:</p> +<p>“No, no! Rather would I be”—here she hesitated +for an instant, but as she caught sight of her cerements went on +hurriedly—“as I am. I trust you—not others; and you +must not betray my trust.” Almost instantly she fell into a +frightful fit of shivering, drawing again her death-clothes close to her, +so piteously that it wrung my heart. I suppose I am a practical +man. At any rate, I am accustomed to action. I took from its +place beside my bed a thick Jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown—it +was, of course, of extra length—and held it out to her as I said:</p> +<p>“Put that on. It is the only warm thing here which would be +suitable. Stay; you must remove that wet—wet”—I +stumbled about for a word that would not be offensive—“that +frock—dress—costume—whatever it is.” I +pointed to where, in the corner of the room, stood a chintz-covered +folding-screen which fences in my cold sponge bath, which is laid ready for +me overnight, as I am an early riser.</p> +<p>She bowed gravely, and taking the dressing-gown in a long, white, +finely-shaped hand, bore it behind the screen. There was a slight +rustle, and then a hollow “flop” as the wet garment fell on the +floor; more rustling and rubbing, and a minute later she emerged wrapped +from head to foot in the long Jaeger garment, which trailed on the floor +behind her, though she was a tall woman. She was still shivering +painfully, however. I took a flask of brandy and a glass from a +cupboard, and offered her some; but with a motion of her hand she refused +it, though she moaned grievously.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am so cold—so cold!” Her teeth were +chattering. I was pained at her sad condition, and said despairingly, +for I was at my wits’ end to know what to do:</p> +<p>“Tell me anything that I can do to help you, and I will do +it. I may not call help; there is no fire—nothing to make it +with; you will not take some brandy. What on earth can I do to give +you warmth?”</p> +<p>Her answer certainly surprised me when it came, though it was practical +enough—so practical that I should not have dared to say it. She +looked me straight in the face for a few seconds before speaking. +Then, with an air of girlish innocence which disarmed suspicion and +convinced me at once of her simple faith, she said in a voice that at once +thrilled me and evoked all my pity:</p> +<p>“Let me rest for a while, and cover me up with rugs. That +may give me warmth. I am dying of cold. And I have a deadly +fear upon me—a deadly fear. Sit by me, and let me hold your +hand. You are big and strong, and you look brave. It will +reassure me. I am not myself a coward, but to-night fear has got me +by the throat. I can hardly breathe. Do let me stay till I am +warm. If you only knew what I have gone through, and have to go +through still, I am sure you would pity me and help me.”</p> +<p>To say that I was astonished would be a mild description of my +feelings. I was not shocked. The life which I have led was not +one which makes for prudery. To travel in strange places amongst +strange peoples with strange views of their own is to have odd experiences +and peculiar adventures now and again; a man without human passions is not +the type necessary for an adventurous life, such as I myself have +had. But even a man of passions and experiences can, when he respects +a woman, be shocked—even prudish—where his own opinion of her +is concerned. Such must bring to her guarding any generosity which he +has, and any self-restraint also. Even should she place herself in a +doubtful position, her honour calls to his honour. This is a call +which may not be—<i>must</i> not be—unanswered. Even +passion must pause for at least a while at sound of such a +trumpet-call.</p> +<p>This woman I did respect—much respect. Her youth and beauty; +her manifest ignorance of evil; her superb disdain of convention, which +could only come through hereditary dignity; her terrible fear and +suffering—for there must be more in her unhappy condition than meets +the eye—would all demand respect, even if one did not hasten to yield +it. Nevertheless, I thought it necessary to enter a protest against +her embarrassing suggestion. I certainly did feel a fool when making +it, also a cad. I can truly say it was made only for her good, and +out of the best of me, such as I am. I felt impossibly awkward; and +stuttered and stumbled before I spoke:</p> +<p>“But surely—the convenances! Your being here alone at +night! Mrs. Grundy—convention—the—”</p> +<p>She interrupted me with an incomparable dignity—a dignity which +had the effect of shutting me up like a clasp-knife and making me feel a +decided inferior—and a poor show at that. There was such a +gracious simplicity and honesty in it, too, such self-respecting knowledge +of herself and her position, that I could be neither angry nor hurt. +I could only feel ashamed of myself, and of my own littleness of mind and +morals. She seemed in her icy coldness—now spiritual as well as +bodily—like an incarnate figure of Pride as she answered:</p> +<p>“What are convenances or conventions to me! If you only knew +where I have come from—the existence (if it can be called so) which I +have had—the loneliness—the horror! And besides, it is +for me to <i>make</i> conventions, not to yield my personal freedom of +action to them. Even as I am—even here and in this garb—I +am above convention. Convenances do not trouble me or hamper +me. That, at least, I have won by what I have gone through, even if +it had never come to me through any other way. Let me +stay.” She said the last words, in spite of all her pride, +appealingly. But still, there was a note of high pride in all +this—in all she said and did, in her attitude and movement, in the +tones of her voice, in the loftiness of her carriage and the steadfast look +of her open, starlit eyes. Altogether, there was something so rarely +lofty in herself and all that clad her that, face to face with it and with +her, my feeble attempt at moral precaution seemed puny, ridiculous, and out +of place. Without a word in the doing, I took from an old chiffonier +chest an armful of blankets, several of which I threw over her as she lay, +for in the meantime, having replaced the coverlet, she had lain down at +length on the bed. I took a chair, and sat down beside her. +When she stretched out her hand from beneath the pile of wraps, I took it +in mine, saying:</p> +<p>“Get warm and rest. Sleep if you can. You need not +fear; I shall guard you with my life.”</p> +<p>She looked at me gratefully, her starry eyes taking a new light more +full of illumination than was afforded by the wax candle, which was shaded +from her by my body . . . She was horribly cold, and her teeth chattered so +violently that I feared lest she should have incurred some dangerous evil +from her wetting and the cold that followed it. I felt, however, so +awkward that I could find no words to express my fears; moreover, I hardly +dared say anything at all regarding herself after the haughty way in which +she had received my well-meant protest. Manifestly I was but to her +as a sort of refuge and provider of heat, altogether impersonal, and not to +be regarded in any degree as an individual. In these humiliating +circumstances what could I do but sit quiet—and wait +developments?</p> +<p>Little by little the fierce chattering of her teeth began to abate as +the warmth of her surroundings stole through her. I also felt, even +in this strangely awakening position, the influence of the quiet; and sleep +began to steal over me. Several times I tried to fend it off, but, as +I could not make any overt movement without alarming my strange and +beautiful companion, I had to yield myself to drowsiness. I was still +in such an overwhelming stupor of surprise that I could not even think +freely. There was nothing for me but to control myself and +wait. Before I could well fix my thoughts I was asleep.</p> +<p>I was recalled to consciousness by hearing, even through the pall of +sleep that bound me, the crowing of a cock in some of the out-offices of +the castle. At the same instant the figure, lying deathly still but +for the gentle heaving of her bosom, began to struggle wildly. The +sound had won through the gates of her sleep also. With a swift, +gliding motion she slipped from the bed to the floor, saying in a fierce +whisper as she pulled herself up to her full height:</p> +<p>“Let me out! I must go! I must go!”</p> +<p>By this time I was fully awake, and the whole position of things came to +me in an instant which I shall never—can never—forget: the dim +light of the candle, now nearly burned down to the socket, all the dimmer +from the fact that the first grey gleam of morning was stealing in round +the edges of the heavy curtain; the tall, slim figure in the brown +dressing-gown whose over-length trailed on the floor, the black hair +showing glossy in the light, and increasing by contrast the marble +whiteness of the face, in which the black eyes sent through their stars +fiery gleams. She appeared quite in a frenzy of haste; her eagerness +was simply irresistible.</p> +<p>I was so stupefied with amazement, as well as with sleep, that I did not +attempt to stop her, but began instinctively to help her by furthering her +wishes. As she ran behind the screen, and, as far as sound could +inform me,—began frantically to disrobe herself of the warm +dressing-gown and to don again the ice-cold wet shroud, I pulled back the +curtain from the window, and drew the bolt of the glass door. As I +did so she was already behind me, shivering. As I threw open the door +she glided out with a swift silent movement, but trembling in an agonized +way. As she passed me, she murmured in a low voice, which was almost +lost in the chattering of her teeth:</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you—thank you a thousand times! But I must +go. I <i>must</i>! I <i>must</i>! I shall come again, and +try to show my gratitude. Do not condemn me as ungrateful—till +then.” And she was gone.</p> +<p>I watched her pass the length of the white path, flitting from shrub to +shrub or statue as she had come. In the cold grey light of the +undeveloped dawn she seemed even more ghostly than she had done in the +black shadow of the night.</p> +<p>When she disappeared from sight in the shadow of the wood, I stood on +the terrace for a long time watching, in case I should be afforded another +glimpse of her, for there was now no doubt in my mind that she had for me +some strange attraction. I felt even then that the look in those +glorious starry eyes would be with me always so long as I might live. +There was some fascination which went deeper than my eyes or my flesh or my +heart—down deep into the very depths of my soul. My mind was +all in a whirl, so that I could hardly think coherently. It all was +like a dream; the reality seemed far away. It was not possible to +doubt that the phantom figure which had been so close to me during the dark +hours of the night was actual flesh and blood. Yet she was so cold, +so cold! Altogether I could not fix my mind to either proposition: +that it was a living woman who had held my hand, or a dead body reanimated +for the time or the occasion in some strange manner.</p> +<p>The difficulty was too great for me to make up my mind upon it, even had +I wanted to. But, in any case, I did not want to. This would, +no doubt, come in time. But till then I wished to dream on, as anyone +does in a dream which can still be blissful though there be pauses of pain, +or ghastliness, or doubt, or terror.</p> +<p>So I closed the window and drew the curtain again, feeling for the first +time the cold in which I had stood on the wet marble floor of the terrace +when my bare feet began to get warm on the soft carpet. To get rid of +the chill feeling I got into the bed on which <i>she</i> had lain, and as +the warmth restored me tried to think coherently. For a short while I +was going over the facts of the night—or what seemed as facts to my +remembrance. But as I continued to think, the possibilities of any +result seemed to get less, and I found myself vainly trying to reconcile +with the logic of life the grim episode of the night. The effort +proved to be too much for such concentration as was left to me; moreover, +interrupted sleep was clamant, and would not be denied. What I dreamt +of—if I dreamt at all—I know not. I only know that I was +ready for waking when the time came. It came with a violent knocking +at my door. I sprang from bed, fully awake in a second, drew the +bolt, and slipped back to bed. With a hurried “May I come +in?” Aunt Janet entered. She seemed relieved when she saw me, +and gave without my asking an explanation of her perturbation:</p> +<p>“Oh, laddie, I hae been so uneasy aboot ye all the nicht. I +hae had dreams an’ veesions an’ a’ sorts o’ uncanny +fancies. I fear that—” She was by now drawing back +the curtain, and as her eyes took in the marks of wet all over the floor +the current of her thoughts changed:</p> +<p>“Why, laddie, whativer hae ye been doin’ wi’ yer +baith? Oh, the mess ye hae made! ’Tis sinful to gie sic +trouble an’ waste . . . ” And so she went on. I was +glad to hear the tirade, which was only what a good housewife, outraged in +her sentiments of order, would have made. I listened in +patience—with pleasure when I thought of what she would have thought +(and said) had she known the real facts. I was well pleased to have +got off so easily.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 10, 1907.</p> +<p>For some days after what I call “the episode” I was in a +strange condition of mind. I did not take anyone—not even Aunt +Janet—into confidence. Even she dear, and open-hearted and +liberal-minded as she is, might not have understood well enough to be just +and tolerant; and I did not care to hear any adverse comment on my strange +visitor. Somehow I could not bear the thought of anyone finding fault +with her or in her, though, strangely enough, I was eternally defending her +to myself; for, despite my wishes, embarrassing thoughts <i>would</i> come +again and again, and again in all sorts and variants of queries difficult +to answer. I found myself defending her, sometimes as a woman hard +pressed by spiritual fear and physical suffering, sometimes as not being +amenable to laws that govern the Living. Indeed, I could not make up +my mind whether I looked on her as a living human being or as one with some +strange existence in another world, and having only a chance foothold in +our own. In such doubt imagination began to work, and thoughts of +evil, of danger, of doubt, even of fear, began to crowd on me with such +persistence and in such varied forms that I found my instinct of reticence +growing into a settled purpose. The value of this instinctive +precaution was promptly shown by Aunt Janet’s state of mind, with +consequent revelation of it. She became full of gloomy +prognostications and what I thought were morbid fears. For the first +time in my life I discovered that Aunt Janet had nerves! I had long +had a secret belief that she was gifted, to some degree at any rate, with +Second Sight, which quality, or whatever it is, skilled in the powers if +not the lore of superstition, manages to keep at stretch not only the mind +of its immediate pathic, but of others relevant to it. Perhaps this +natural quality had received a fresh impetus from the arrival of some cases +of her books sent on by Sir Colin. She appeared to read and reread +these works, which were chiefly on occult subjects, day and night, except +when she was imparting to me choice excerpts of the most baleful and +fearsome kind. Indeed, before a week was over I found myself to be an +expert in the history of the cult, as well as in its manifestations, which +latter I had been versed in for a good many years.</p> +<p>The result of all this was that it set me brooding. Such, at +least, I gathered was the fact when Aunt Janet took me to task for +it. She always speaks out according to her convictions, so that her +thinking I brooded was to me a proof that I did; and after a personal +examination I came—reluctantly—to the conclusion that she was +right, so far, at any rate, as my outer conduct was concerned. The +state of mind I was in, however, kept me from making any acknowledgment of +it—the real cause of my keeping so much to myself and of being so +<i>distrait</i>. And so I went on, torturing myself as before with +introspective questioning; and she, with her mind set on my actions, and +endeavouring to find a cause for them, continued and expounded her beliefs +and fears.</p> +<p>Her nightly chats with me when we were alone after dinner—for I +had come to avoid her questioning at other times—kept my imagination +at high pressure. Despite myself, I could not but find new cause for +concern in the perennial founts of her superstition. I had thought, +years ago, that I had then sounded the depths of this branch of psychicism; +but this new phase of thought, founded on the really deep hold which the +existence of my beautiful visitor and her sad and dreadful circumstances +had taken upon me, brought me a new concern in the matter of +self-importance. I came to think that I must reconstruct my +self-values, and begin a fresh understanding of ethical beliefs. Do +what I would, my mind would keep turning on the uncanny subjects brought +before it. I began to apply them one by one to my own late +experience, and unconsciously to try to fit them in turn to the present +case.</p> +<p>The effect of this brooding was that I was, despite my own will, struck +by the similarity of circumstances bearing on my visitor, and the +conditions apportioned by tradition and superstition to such strange +survivals from earlier ages as these partial existences which are rather +Undead than Living—still walking the earth, though claimed by the +world of the Dead. Amongst them are the Vampire, or the +Wehr-Wolf. To this class also might belong in a measure the +Doppelgänger—one of whose dual existences commonly belongs to +the actual world around it. So, too, the denizens of the world of +Astralism. In any of these named worlds there is a material +presence—which must be created, if only for a single or periodic +purpose. It matters not whether a material presence already created +can be receptive of a disembodied soul, or a soul unattached can have a +body built up for it or around it; or, again, whether the body of a dead +person can be made seeming quick through some diabolic influence manifested +in the present, or an inheritance or result of some baleful use of malefic +power in the past. The result is the same in each case, though the +ways be widely different: a soul and a body which are not in unity but +brought together for strange purposes through stranger means and by powers +still more strange.</p> +<p>Through much thought and a process of exclusions the eerie form which +seemed to be most in correspondence with my adventure, and most suitable to +my fascinating visitor, appeared to be the Vampire. +Doppelgänger, Astral creations, and all such-like, did not comply with +the conditions of my night experience. The Wehr-Wolf is but a variant +of the Vampire, and so needed not to be classed or examined at all. +Then it was that, thus focussed, the Lady of the Shroud (for so I came to +hold her in my mind) began to assume a new force. Aunt Janet’s +library afforded me clues which I followed with avidity. In my secret +heart I hated the quest, and did not wish to go on with it. But in +this I was not my own master. Do what I would—brush away doubts +never so often, new doubts and imaginings came in their stead. The +circumstance almost repeated the parable of the Seven Devils who took the +place of the exorcised one. Doubts I could stand. Imaginings I +could stand. But doubts and imaginings together made a force so fell +that I was driven to accept any reading of the mystery which might +presumably afford a foothold for satisfying thought. And so I came to +accept tentatively the Vampire theory—accept it, at least, so far as +to examine it as judicially as was given me to do. As the days wore +on, so the conviction grew. The more I read on the subject, the more +directly the evidences pointed towards this view. The more I thought, +the more obstinate became the conviction. I ransacked Aunt +Janet’s volumes again and again to find anything to the contrary; but +in vain. Again, no matter how obstinate were my convictions at any +given time, unsettlement came with fresh thinking over the argument, so +that I was kept in a harassing state of uncertainty.</p> +<p>Briefly, the evidence in favour of accord between the facts of the case +and the Vampire theory were:</p> +<p>Her coming was at night—the time the Vampire is according to the +theory, free to move at will.</p> +<p>She wore her shroud—a necessity of coming fresh from grave or +tomb; for there is nothing occult about clothing which is not subject to +astral or other influences.</p> +<p>She had to be helped into my room—in strict accordance with what +one sceptical critic of occultism has called “the Vampire +etiquette.”</p> +<p>She made violent haste in getting away at cock-crow.</p> +<p>She seemed preternaturally cold; her sleep was almost abnormal in +intensity, and yet the sound of the cock-crowing came through it.</p> +<p>These things showed her to be subject to <i>some</i> laws, though not in +exact accord within those which govern human beings. Under the stress +of such circumstances as she must have gone through, her vitality seemed +more than human—the quality of vitality which could outlive ordinary +burial. Again, such purpose as she had shown in donning, under stress +of some compelling direction, her ice-cold wet shroud, and, wrapt in it, +going out again into the night, was hardly normal for a woman.</p> +<p>But if so, and if she was indeed a Vampire, might not whatever it may be +that holds such beings in thrall be by some means or other exorcised? +To find the means must be my next task. I am actually pining to see +her again. Never before have I been stirred to my depths by +anyone. Come it from Heaven or Hell, from the Earth or the Grave, it +does not matter; I shall make it my task to win her back to life and +peace. If she be indeed a Vampire, the task may be hard and long; if +she be not so, and if it be merely that circumstances have so gathered +round her as to produce that impression, the task may be simpler and the +result more sweet. No, not more sweet; for what can be more sweet +than to restore the lost or seemingly lost soul of the woman you +love! There, the truth is out at last! I suppose that I have +fallen in love with her. If so, it is too late for me to fight +against it. I can only wait with what patience I can till I see her +again. But to that end I can do nothing. I know absolutely +nothing about her—not even her name. Patience!</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 16, 1907.</p> +<p>The only relief I have had from the haunting anxiety regarding the Lady +of the Shroud has been in the troubled state of my adopted country. +There has evidently been something up which I have not been allowed to +know. The mountaineers are troubled and restless; are wandering +about, singly and in parties, and holding meetings in strange places. +This is what I gather used to be in old days when intrigues were on foot +with Turks, Greeks, Austrians, Italians, Russians. This concerns me +vitally, for my mind has long been made up to share the fortunes of the +Land of the Blue Mountains. For good or ill I mean to stay here: +<i>J’y suis</i>, <i>j’y reste</i>. I share henceforth the +lot of the Blue Mountaineers; and not Turkey, nor Greece, nor Austria, nor +Italy, nor Russia—no, not France nor Germany either; not man nor God +nor Devil shall drive me from my purpose. With these patriots I throw +in my lot! My only difficulty seemed at first to be with the men +themselves. They are so proud that at the beginning I feared they +would not even accord me the honour of being one of them! However, +things always move on somehow, no matter what difficulties there be at the +beginning. Never mind! When one looks back at an accomplished +fact the beginning is not to be seen—and if it were it would not +matter. It is not of any account, anyhow.</p> +<p>I heard that there was going to be a great meeting near here yesterday +afternoon, and I attended it. I think it was a success. If such +is any proof, I felt elated as well as satisfied when I came away. +Aunt Janet’s Second Sight on the subject was comforting, though grim, +and in a measure disconcerting. When I was saying good-night she +asked me to bend down my head. As I did so, she laid her hands on it +and passed them all over it. I heard her say to herself:</p> +<p>“Strange! There’s nothing there; yet I could have +sworn I saw it!” I asked her to explain, but she would +not. For once she was a little obstinate, and refused point blank to +even talk of the subject. She was not worried nor unhappy; so I had +no cause for concern. I said nothing, but I shall wait and see. +Most mysteries become plain or disappear altogether in time. But +about the meeting—lest I forget!</p> +<p>When I joined the mountaineers who had assembled, I really think they +were glad to see me; though some of them seemed adverse, and others did not +seem over well satisfied. However, absolute unity is very seldom to +be found. Indeed, it is almost impossible; and in a free community is +not altogether to be desired. When it is apparent, the gathering +lacks that sense of individual feeling which makes for the real consensus +of opinion—which is the real unity of purpose. The meeting was +at first, therefore, a little cold and distant. But presently it +began to thaw, and after some fiery harangues I was asked to speak. +Happily, I had begun to learn the Balkan language as soon as ever Uncle +Roger’s wishes had been made known to me, and as I have some facility +of tongues and a great deal of experience, I soon began to know something +of it. Indeed, when I had been here a few weeks, with opportunity of +speaking daily with the people themselves, and learned to understand the +intonations and vocal inflexions, I felt quite easy in speaking it. I +understood every word which had up to then been spoken at the meeting, and +when I spoke myself I felt that they understood. That is an +experience which every speaker has in a certain way and up to a certain +point. He knows by some kind of instinct if his hearers are with him; +if they respond, they must certainly have understood. Last night this +was marked. I felt it every instant I was talking and when I came to +realize that the men were in strict accord with my general views, I took +them into confidence with regard to my own personal purpose. It was +the beginning of a mutual trust; so for peroration I told them that I had +come to the conclusion that what they wanted most for their own protection +and the security and consolidation of their nation was arms—arms of +the very latest pattern. Here they interrupted me with wild cheers, +which so strung me up that I went farther than I intended, and made a +daring venture. “Ay,” I repeated, “the security and +consolidation of your country—of <i>our</i> country, for I have come +to live amongst you. Here is my home whilst I live. I am with +you heart and soul. I shall live with you, fight shoulder to shoulder +with you, and, if need be, shall die with you!” Here the +shouting was terrific, and the younger men raised their guns to fire a +salute in Blue Mountain fashion. But on the instant the Vladika <a +name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a> held up +his hands and motioned them to desist. In the immediate silence he +spoke, sharply at first, but later ascending to a high pitch of +single-minded, lofty eloquence. His words rang in my ears long after +the meeting was over and other thoughts had come between them and the +present.</p> +<p>“Silence!” he thundered. “Make no echoes in the +forest or through the hills at this dire time of stress and threatened +danger to our land. Bethink ye of this meeting, held here and in +secret, in order that no whisper of it may be heard afar. Have ye +all, brave men of the Blue Mountains, come hither through the forest like +shadows that some of you, thoughtless, may enlighten your enemies as to our +secret purpose? The thunder of your guns would doubtless sound well +in the ears of those who wish us ill and try to work us wrong. +Fellow-countrymen, know ye not that the Turk is awake once more for our +harming? The Bureau of Spies has risen from the torpor which came on +it when the purpose against our Teuta roused our mountains to such anger +that the frontiers blazed with passion, and were swept with fire and +sword. Moreover, there is a traitor somewhere in the land, or else +incautious carelessness has served the same base purpose. Something +of our needs—our doing, whose secret we have tried to hide, has gone +out. The myrmidons of the Turk are close on our borders, and it may +be that some of them have passed our guards and are amidst us +unknown. So it behoves us doubly to be discreet. Believe me +that I share with you, my brothers, our love for the gallant Englishman who +has come amongst us to share our sorrows and ambitions—and I trust it +may be our joys. We are all united in the wish to do him +honour—though not in the way by which danger might be carried on the +wings of love. My brothers, our newest brother comes to us from the +Great Nation which amongst the nations has been our only friend, and which +has ere now helped us in our direst need—that mighty Britain whose +hand has ever been raised in the cause of freedom. We of the Blue +Mountains know her best as she stands with sword in hand face to face with +our foes. And this, her son and now our brother, brings further to +our need the hand of a giant and the heart of a lion. Later on, when +danger does not ring us round, when silence is no longer our outer guard; +we shall bid him welcome in true fashion of our land. But till then +he will believe—for he is great-hearted—that our love and +thanks and welcome are not to be measured by sound. When the time +comes, then shall be sound in his honour—not of rifles alone, but +bells and cannon and the mighty voice of a free people shouting as +one. But now we must be wise and silent, for the Turk is once again +at our gates. Alas! the cause of his former coming may not be, for +she whose beauty and nobility and whose place in our nation and in our +hearts tempted him to fraud and violence is not with us to share even our +anxiety.”</p> +<p>Here his voice broke, and there arose from all a deep wailing sound, +which rose and rose till the woods around us seemed broken by a mighty and +long-sustained sob. The orator saw that his purpose was accomplished, +and with a short sentence finished his harangue: “But the need of our +nation still remains!” Then, with an eloquent gesture to me to +proceed, he merged in the crowd and disappeared.</p> +<p>How could I even attempt to follow such a speaker with any hope of +success? I simply told them what I had already done in the way of +help, saying:</p> +<p>“As you needed arms, I have got them. My agent sends me word +through the code between us that he has procured for me—for +us—fifty thousand of the newest-pattern rifles, the French +Ingis-Malbron, which has surpassed all others, and sufficient ammunition to +last for a year of war. The first section is in hand, and will soon +be ready for consignment. There are other war materials, too, which, +when they arrive, will enable every man and woman—even the +children—of our land to take a part in its defence should such be +needed. My brothers, I am with you in all things, for good or +ill!”</p> +<p>It made me very proud to hear the mighty shout which arose. I had +felt exalted before, but now this personal development almost unmanned +me. I was glad of the long-sustained applause to recover my +self-control.</p> +<p>I was quite satisfied that the meeting did not want to hear any other +speaker, for they began to melt away without any formal notification having +been given. I doubt if there will be another meeting soon +again. The weather has begun to break, and we are in for another +spell of rain. It is disagreeable, of course; but it has its own +charm. It was during a spell of wet weather that the Lady of the +Shroud came to me. Perhaps the rain may bring her again. I hope +so, with all my soul.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 23, 1907.</p> +<p>The rain has continued for four whole days and nights, and the low-lying +ground is like a quagmire in places. In the sunlight the whole +mountains glisten with running streams and falling water. I feel a +strange kind of elation, but from no visible cause. Aunt Janet rather +queered it by telling me, as she said good-night, to be very careful of +myself, as she had seen in a dream last night a figure in a shroud. I +fear she was not pleased that I did not take it with all the seriousness +that she did. I would not wound her for the world if I could help it, +but the idea of a shroud gets too near the bone to be safe, and I had to +fend her off at all hazards. So when I doubted if the Fates regarded +the visionary shroud as of necessity appertaining to me, she said, in a way +that was, for her, almost sharp:</p> +<p>“Take care, laddie. ’Tis ill jesting wi’ the +powers o’ time Unknown.”</p> +<p>Perhaps it was that her talk put the subject in my mind. The woman +needed no such aid; she was always there; but when I locked myself into my +room that night, I half expected to find her in the room. I was not +sleepy, so I took a book of Aunt Janet’s and began to read. The +title was “On the Powers and Qualities of Disembodied +Spirits.” “Your grammar,” said I to the author, +“is hardly attractive, but I may learn something which might apply to +her. I shall read your book.” Before settling down to it, +however, I thought I would have a look at the garden. Since the night +of the visit the garden seemed to have a new attractiveness for me: a night +seldom passed without my having a last look at it before turning in. +So I drew the great curtain and looked out.</p> +<p>The scene was beautiful, but almost entirely desolate. All was +ghastly in the raw, hard gleams of moonlight coming fitfully through the +masses of flying cloud. The wind was rising, and the air was damp and +cold. I looked round the room instinctively, and noticed that the +fire was laid ready for lighting, and that there were small-cut logs of +wood piled beside the hearth. Ever since that night I have had a fire +laid ready. I was tempted to light it, but as I never have a fire +unless I sleep in the open, I hesitated to begin. I went back to the +window, and, opening the catch, stepped out on the terrace. As I +looked down the white walk and let my eyes range over the expanse of the +garden, where everything glistened as the moonlight caught the wet, I half +expected to see some white figure flitting amongst the shrubs and +statues. The whole scene of the former visit came back to me so +vividly that I could hardly believe that any time had passed since +then. It was the same scene, and again late in the evening. +Life in Vissarion was primitive, and early hours prevailed—though not +so late as on that night.</p> +<p>As I looked I thought I caught a glimpse of something white far +away. It was only a ray of moonlight coming through the rugged edge +of a cloud. But all the same it set me in a strange state of +perturbation. Somehow I seemed to lose sight of my own +identity. It was as though I was hypnotized by the situation or by +memory, or perhaps by some occult force. Without thinking of what I +was doing, or being conscious of any reason for it, I crossed the room and +set light to the fire. Then I blew out the candle and came to the +window again. I never thought it might be a foolish thing to +do—to stand at a window with a light behind me in this country, where +every man carries a gun with him always. I was in my evening clothes, +too, with my breast well marked by a white shirt. I opened the window +and stepped out on the terrace. There I stood for many minutes, +thinking. All the time my eyes kept ranging over the garden. +Once I thought I saw a white figure moving, but it was not followed up, so, +becoming conscious that it was again beginning to rain, I stepped back into +the room, shut the window, and drew the curtain. Then I realized the +comforting appearance of the fire, and went over and stood before it.</p> +<p>Hark! Once more there was a gentle tapping at the window. I +rushed over to it and drew the curtain.</p> +<p>There, out on the rain-beaten terrace, stood the white shrouded figure, +more desolate-appearing than ever. Ghastly pale she looked, as +before, but her eyes had an eager look which was new. I took it that +she was attracted by the fire, which was by now well ablaze, and was +throwing up jets of flame as the dry logs crackled. The leaping +flames threw fitful light across the room, and every gleam threw the +white-clad figure into prominence, showing the gleam of the black eyes, and +fixing the stars that lay in them.</p> +<p>Without a word I threw open the window, and, taking the white hand +extended to me, drew into the room the Lady of the Shroud.</p> +<p>As she entered and felt the warmth of the blazing fire, a glad look +spread over her face. She made a movement as if to run to it. +But she drew back an instant after, looking round with instinctive +caution. She closed the window and bolted it, touched the lever which +spread the grille across the opening, and pulled close the curtain behind +it. Then she went swiftly to the door and tried if it was +locked. Satisfied as to this, she came quickly over to the fire, and, +kneeling before it, stretched out her numbed hands to the blaze. +Almost on the instant her wet shroud began to steam. I stood +wondering. The precautions of secrecy in the midst of her +suffering—for that she did suffer was only too painfully +manifest—must have presupposed some danger. Then and there my +mind was made up that there should no harm assail her that I by any means +could fend off. Still, the present must be attended to; pneumonia and +other ills stalked behind such a chill as must infallibly come on her +unless precautions were taken. I took again the dressing-gown which +she had worn before and handed it to her, motioning as I did so towards the +screen which had made a dressing-room for her on the former occasion. +To my surprise she hesitated. I waited. She waited, too, and +then laid down the dressing-gown on the edge of the stone fender. So +I spoke:</p> +<p>“Won’t you change as you did before? Your—your +frock can then be dried. Do! It will be so much safer for you +to be dry clad when you resume your own dress.”</p> +<p>“How can I whilst you are here?”</p> +<p>Her words made me stare, so different were they from her acts of the +other visit. I simply bowed—speech on such a subject would be +at least inadequate—and walked over to the window. Passing +behind the curtain, I opened the window. Before stepping out on to +the terrace, I looked into the room and said:</p> +<p>“Take your own time. There is no hurry. I dare say you +will find there all you may want. I shall remain on the terrace until +you summon me.” With that I went out on the terrace, drawing +close the glass door behind me.</p> +<p>I stood looking out on the dreary scene for what seemed a very short +time, my mind in a whirl. There came a rustle from within, and I saw +a dark brown figure steal round the edge of the curtain. A white hand +was raised, and beckoned me to come in. I entered, bolting the window +behind me. She had passed across the room, and was again kneeling +before the fire with her hands outstretched. The shroud was laid in +partially opened folds on one side of the hearth, and was steaming +heavily. I brought over some cushions and pillows, and made a little +pile of them beside her.</p> +<p>“Sit there,” I said, “and rest quietly in the +heat.” It may have been the effect of the glowing heat, but +there was a rich colour in her face as she looked at me with shining +eyes. Without a word, but with a courteous little bow, she sat down +at once. I put a thick rug across her shoulders, and sat down myself +on a stool a couple of feet away.</p> +<p>For fully five or six minutes we sat in silence. At last, turning +her head towards me she said in a sweet, low voice:</p> +<p>“I had intended coming earlier on purpose to thank you for your +very sweet and gracious courtesy to me, but circumstances were such that I +could not leave my—my”—she hesitated before +saying—“my abode. I am not free, as you and others are, +to do what I will. My existence is sadly cold and stern, and full of +horrors that appal. But I <i>do</i> thank you. For myself I am +not sorry for the delay, for every hour shows me more clearly how good and +understanding and sympathetic you have been to me. I only hope that +some day you may realize how kind you have been, and how much I appreciate +it.”</p> +<p>“I am only too glad to be of any service,” I said, feebly I +felt, as I held out my hand. She did not seem to see it. Her +eyes were now on the fire, and a warm blush dyed forehead and cheek and +neck. The reproof was so gentle that no one could have been +offended. It was evident that she was something coy and reticent, and +would not allow me to come at present more close to her, even to the +touching of her hand. But that her heart was not in the denial was +also evident in the glance from her glorious dark starry eyes. These +glances—veritable lightning flashes coming through her pronounced +reserve—finished entirely any wavering there might be in my own +purpose. I was aware now to the full that my heart was quite +subjugated. I knew that I was in love—veritably so much in love +as to feel that without this woman, be she what she might, by my side my +future must be absolutely barren.</p> +<p>It was presently apparent that she did not mean to stay as long on this +occasion as on the last. When the castle clock struck midnight she +suddenly sprang to her feet with a bound, saying:</p> +<p>“I must go! There is midnight!” I rose at once, +the intensity of her speech having instantly obliterated the sleep which, +under the influence of rest and warmth, was creeping upon me. Once +more she was in a frenzy of haste, so I hurried towards the window, but as +I looked back saw her, despite her haste, still standing. I motioned +towards the screen, and slipping behind the curtain, opened the window and +went out on the terrace. As I was disappearing behind the curtain I +saw her with the tail of my eye lifting the shroud, now dry, from the +hearth.</p> +<p>She was out through the window in an incredibly short time, now clothed +once more in that dreadful wrapping. As she sped past me barefooted +on the wet, chilly marble which made her shudder, she whispered:</p> +<p>“Thank you again. You <i>are</i> good to me. You can +understand.”</p> +<p>Once again I stood on the terrace, saw her melt like a shadow down the +steps, and disappear behind the nearest shrub. Thence she flitted +away from point to point with exceeding haste. The moonlight had now +disappeared behind heavy banks of cloud, so there was little light to see +by. I could just distinguish a pale gleam here and there as she +wended her secret way.</p> +<p>For a long time I stood there alone thinking, as I watched the course +she had taken, and wondering where might be her ultimate destination. +As she had spoken of her “abode,” I knew there was some +definitive objective of her flight.</p> +<p>It was no use wondering. I was so entirely ignorant of her +surroundings that I had not even a starting-place for speculation. So +I went in, leaving the window open. It seemed that this being so made +one barrier the less between us. I gathered the cushions and rugs +from before the fire, which was no longer leaping, but burning with a +steady glow, and put them back in their places. Aunt Janet might come +in the morning, as she had done before, and I did not wish to set her +thinking. She is much too clever a person to have treading on the +heels of a mystery—especially one in which my own affections are +engaged. I wonder what she would have said had she seen me kiss the +cushion on which my beautiful guest’s head had rested?</p> +<p>When I was in bed, and in the dark save for the fading glow of the fire, +my thoughts became fixed that whether she came from Earth or Heaven or +Hell, my lovely visitor was already more to me than aught else in the +world. This time she had, on going, said no word of returning. +I had been so much taken up with her presence, and so upset by her abrupt +departure, that I had omitted to ask her. And so I am driven, as +before, to accept the chance of her returning—a chance which I fear I +am or may be unable to control.</p> +<p>Surely enough Aunt Janet did come in the morning, early. I was +still asleep when she knocked at my door. With that purely physical +subconsciousness which comes with habit I must have realized the cause of +the sound, for I woke fully conscious of the fact that Aunt Janet had +knocked and was waiting to come in. I jumped from bed, and back again +when I had unlocked the door. When Aunt Janet came in she noticed the +cold of the room.</p> +<p>“Save us, laddie, but ye’ll get your death o’ cold in +this room.” Then, as she looked round and noticed the ashes of +the extinct fire in the grate:</p> +<p>“Eh, but ye’re no that daft after a’; ye’ve had +the sense to light yer fire. Glad I am that we had the fire laid and +a wheen o’ dry logs ready to yer hand.” She evidently +felt the cold air coming from the window, for she went over and drew the +curtain. When she saw the open window, she raised her hands in a sort +of dismay, which to me, knowing how little base for concern could be within +her knowledge, was comic. Hurriedly she shut the window, and then, +coming close over to my bed, said:</p> +<p>“Yon has been a fearsome nicht again, laddie, for yer poor auld +aunty.”</p> +<p>“Dreaming again, Aunt Janet?” I asked—rather +flippantly as it seemed to me. She shook her head:</p> +<p>“Not so, Rupert, unless it be that the Lord gies us in dreams what +we in our spiritual darkness think are veesions.” I roused up +at this. When Aunt Janet calls me Rupert, as she always used to do in +my dear mother’s time, things are serious with her. As I was +back in childhood now, recalled by her word, I thought the best thing I +could do to cheer her would be to bring her back there too—if I +could. So I patted the edge of the bed as I used to do when I was a +wee kiddie and wanted her to comfort me, and said:</p> +<p>“Sit down, Aunt Janet, and tell me.” She yielded at +once, and the look of the happy old days grew over her face as though there +had come a gleam of sunshine. She sat down, and I put out my hands as +I used to do, and took her hand between them. There was a tear in her +eye as she raised my hand and kissed it as in old times. But for the +infinite pathos of it, it would have been comic:</p> +<p>Aunt Janet, old and grey-haired, but still retaining her girlish +slimness of figure, petite, dainty as a Dresden figure, her face lined with +the care of years, but softened and ennobled by the unselfishness of those +years, holding up my big hand, which would outweigh her whole arm; sitting +dainty as a pretty old fairy beside a recumbent giant—for my bulk +never seems so great as when I am near this real little good fairy of my +life—seven feet beside four feet seven.</p> +<p>So she began as of old, as though she were about to soothe a frightened +child with a fairy tale:</p> +<p>“’Twas a veesion, I think, though a dream it may hae +been. But whichever or whatever it was, it concerned my little boy, +who has grown to be a big giant, so much that I woke all of a +tremble. Laddie dear, I thought that I saw ye being +married.” This gave me an opening, though a small one, for +comforting her, so I took it at once:</p> +<p>“Why, dear, there isn’t anything to alarm you in that, is +there? It was only the other day when you spoke to me about the need +of my getting married, if it was only that you might have children of your +boy playing around your knees as their father used to do when he was a +helpless wee child himself.”</p> +<p>“That is so, laddie,” she answered gravely. “But +your weddin’ was none so merry as I fain would see. True, you +seemed to lo’e her wi’ all yer hairt. Yer eyes shone that +bright that ye might ha’ set her afire, for all her black locks and +her winsome face. But, laddie, that was not all—no, not though +her black een, that had the licht o’ all the stars o’ nicht in +them, shone in yours as though a hairt o’ love an’ passion, +too, dwelt in them. I saw ye join hands, an’ heard a strange +voice that talked stranger still, but I saw none ither. Your eyes +an’ her eyes, an’ your hand an’ hers, were all I +saw. For all else was dim, and the darkness was close around ye +twa. And when the benison was spoken—I knew that by the voices +that sang, and by the gladness of her een, as well as by the pride and +glory of yours—the licht began to glow a wee more, an’ I could +see yer bride. She was in a veil o’ wondrous fine lace. +And there were orange-flowers in her hair, though there were twigs, too, +and there was a crown o’ flowers on head wi’ a golden band +round it. And the heathen candles that stood on the table wi’ +the Book had some strange effect, for the reflex o’ it hung in the +air o’er her head like the shadow of a crown. There was a gold +ring on her finger and a silver one on yours.” Here she paused +and trembled, so that, hoping to dispel her fears, I said, as like as I +could to the way I used to when I was a child:</p> +<p>“Go on, Aunt Janet.”</p> +<p>She did not seem to recognize consciously the likeness between past and +present; but the effect was there, for she went on more like her old self, +though there was a prophetic gravity in her voice, more marked than I had +ever heard from her:</p> +<p>“All this I’ve told ye was well; but, oh, laddie, there was +a dreadful lack o’ livin’ joy such as I should expect from the +woman whom my boy had chosen for his wife—and at the marriage +coupling, too! And no wonder, when all is said; for though the +marriage veil o’ love was fine, an’ the garland o’ +flowers was fresh-gathered, underneath them a’ was nane ither than a +ghastly shroud. As I looked in my veesion—or maybe +dream—I expectit to see the worms crawl round the flagstane at her +feet. If ’twas not Death, laddie dear, that stood by ye, it was +the shadow o’ Death that made the darkness round ye, that neither the +light o’ candles nor the smoke o’ heathen incense could +pierce. Oh, laddie, laddie, wae is me that I hae seen sic a +veesion—waking or sleeping, it matters not! I was sair +distressed—so sair that I woke wi’ a shriek on my lips and +bathed in cold sweat. I would hae come doon to ye to see if you were +hearty or no—or even to listen at your door for any sound o’ +yer being quick, but that I feared to alarm ye till morn should come. +I’ve counted the hours and the minutes since midnight, when I saw the +veesion, till I came hither just the now.”</p> +<p>“Quite right, Aunt Janet,” I said, “and I thank you +for your kind thought for me in the matter, now and always.” +Then I went on, for I wanted to take precautions against the possibility of +her discovery of my secret. I could not bear to think that she might +run my precious secret to earth in any well-meant piece of bungling. +That would be to me disaster unbearable. She might frighten away +altogether my beautiful visitor, even whose name or origin I did not know, +and I might never see her again:</p> +<p>“You must never do that, Aunt Janet. You and I are too good +friends to have sense of distrust or annoyance come between us—which +would surely happen if I had to keep thinking that you or anyone else might +be watching me.”</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 27, 1907.</p> +<p>After a spell of loneliness which has seemed endless I have something to +write. When the void in my heart was becoming the receptacle for many +devils of suspicion and distrust I set myself a task which might, I +thought, keep my thoughts in part, at any rate, occupied—to explore +minutely the neighbourhood round the Castle. This might, I hoped, +serve as an anodyne to my pain of loneliness, which grew more acute as the +days, the hours, wore on, even if it should not ultimately afford me some +clue to the whereabouts of the woman whom I had now grown to love so +madly.</p> +<p>My exploration soon took a systematic form, as I intended that it should +be exhaustive. I would take every day a separate line of advance from +the Castle, beginning at the south and working round by the east to the +north. The first day only took me to the edge of the creek, which I +crossed in a boat, and landed at the base of the cliff opposite. I +found the cliffs alone worth a visit. Here and there were openings to +caves which I made up my mind to explore later. I managed to climb up +the cliff at a spot less beetling than the rest, and continued my +journey. It was, though very beautiful, not a specially interesting +place. I explored that spoke of the wheel of which Vissarion was the +hub, and got back just in time for dinner.</p> +<p>The next day I took a course slightly more to the eastward. I had +no difficulty in keeping a straight path, for, once I had rowed across the +creek, the old church of St. Sava rose before me in stately gloom. +This was the spot where many generations of the noblest of the Land of the +Blue Mountains had from time immemorial been laid to rest, amongst them the +Vissarions. Again, I found the opposite cliffs pierced here and there +with caves, some with wide openings,—others the openings of which +were partly above and partly below water. I could, however, find no +means of climbing the cliff at this part, and had to make a long detour, +following up the line of the creek till further on I found a piece of beach +from which ascent was possible. Here I ascended, and found that I was +on a line between the Castle and the southern side of the mountains. +I saw the church of St. Sava away to my right, and not far from the edge of +the cliff. I made my way to it at once, for as yet I had never been +near it. Hitherto my excursions had been limited to the Castle and +its many gardens and surroundings. It was of a style with which I was +not familiar—with four wings to the points of the compass. The +great doorway, set in a magnificent frontage of carved stone of manifestly +ancient date, faced west, so that, when one entered, he went east. To +my surprise—for somehow I expected the contrary—I found the +door open. Not wide open, but what is called ajar—manifestly +not locked or barred, but not sufficiently open for one to look in. I +entered, and after passing through a wide vestibule, more like a section of +a corridor than an ostensible entrance, made my way through a spacious +doorway into the body of the church. The church itself was almost +circular, the openings of the four naves being spacious enough to give the +appearance of the interior as a whole, being a huge cross. It was +strangely dim, for the window openings were small and high-set, and were, +moreover, filled with green or blue glass, each window having a colour to +itself. The glass was very old, being of the thirteenth or fourteenth +century. Such appointments as there were—for it had a general +air of desolation—were of great beauty and richness,—especially +so to be in a place—even a church—where the door lay open, and +no one was to be seen. It was strangely silent even for an old church +on a lonesome headland. There reigned a dismal solemnity which seemed +to chill me, accustomed as I have been to strange and weird places. +It seemed abandoned, though it had not that air of having been neglected +which is so often to be noticed in old churches. There was none of +the everlasting accumulation of dust which prevails in places of higher +cultivation and larger and more strenuous work.</p> +<p>In the church itself or its appending chambers I could find no clue or +suggestion which could guide me in any way in my search for the Lady of the +Shroud. Monuments there were in profusion—statues, tablets, and +all the customary memorials of the dead. The families and dates +represented were simply bewildering. Often the name of Vissarion was +given, and the inscription which it held I read through carefully, looking +to find some enlightenment of any kind. But all in vain: there was +nothing to see in the church itself. So I determined to visit the +crypt. I had no lantern or candle with me, so had to go back to the +Castle to secure one.</p> +<p>It was strange, coming in from the sunlight, here overwhelming to one so +recently accustomed to northern skies, to note the slender gleam of the +lantern which I carried, and which I had lit inside the door. At my +first entry to the church my mind had been so much taken up with the +strangeness of the place, together with the intensity of wish for some sort +of clue, that I had really no opportunity of examining detail. But +now detail became necessary, as I had to find the entrance to the +crypt. My puny light could not dissipate the semi-Cimmerian gloom of +the vast edifice; I had to throw the feeble gleam into one after another of +the dark corners.</p> +<p>At last I found, behind the great screen, a narrow stone staircase which +seemed to wind down into the rock. It was not in any way secret, but +being in the narrow space behind the great screen, was not visible except +when close to it. I knew I was now close to my objective, and began +to descend. Accustomed though I have been to all sorts of mysteries +and dangers, I felt awed and almost overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness +and desolation as I descended the ancient winding steps. These were +many in number, roughly hewn of old in the solid rock on which the church +was built.</p> +<p>I met a fresh surprise in finding that the door of the crypt was +open. After all, this was different from the church-door being open; +for in many places it is a custom to allow all comers at all times to find +rest and comfort in the sacred place. But I did expect that at least +the final resting-place of the historic dead would be held safe against +casual intrusion. Even I, on a quest which was very near my heart, +paused with an almost overwhelming sense of decorum before passing through +that open door. The crypt was a huge place, strangely lofty for a +vault. From its formation, however, I soon came to the conclusion +that it was originally a natural cavern altered to its present purpose by +the hand of man. I could hear somewhere near the sound of running +water, but I could not locate it. Now and again at irregular +intervals there was a prolonged booming, which could only come from a wave +breaking in a confined place. The recollection then came to me of the +proximity of the church to the top of the beetling cliff, and of the +half-sunk cavern entrances which pierced it.</p> +<p>With the gleam of my lamp to guide me, I went through and round the +whole place. There were many massive tombs, mostly rough-hewn from +great slabs or blocks of stone. Some of them were marble, and the +cutting of all was ancient. So large and heavy were some of them that +it was a wonder to me how they could ever have been brought to this place, +to which the only entrance was seemingly the narrow, tortuous stairway by +which I had come. At last I saw near one end of the crypt a great +chain hanging. Turning the light upward, I found that it depended +from a ring set over a wide opening, evidently made artificially. It +must have been through this opening that the great sarcophagi had been +lowered.</p> +<p>Directly underneath the hanging chain, which did not come closer to the +ground than some eight or ten feet, was a huge tomb in the shape of a +rectangular coffer or sarcophagus. It was open, save for a huge sheet +of thick glass which rested above it on two thick balks of dark oak, cut to +exceeding smoothness, which lay across it, one at either end. On the +far side from where I stood each of these was joined to another oak plank, +also cut smooth, which sloped gently to the rocky floor. Should it be +necessary to open the tomb, the glass could be made to slide along the +supports and descend by the sloping planks.</p> +<p>Naturally curious to know what might be within such a strange +receptacle, I raised the lantern, depressing its lens so that the light +might fall within.</p> +<p>Then I started back with a cry, the lantern slipping from my nerveless +hand and falling with a ringing sound on the great sheet of thick +glass.</p> +<p>Within, pillowed on soft cushions, and covered with a mantle woven of +white natural fleece sprigged with tiny sprays of pine wrought in gold, lay +the body of a woman—none other than my beautiful visitor. She +was marble white, and her long black eyelashes lay on her white cheeks as +though she slept.</p> +<p>Without a word or a sound, save the sounds made by my hurrying feet on +the stone flooring, I fled up the steep steps, and through the dim expanse +of the church, out into the bright sunlight. I found that I had +mechanically raised the fallen lamp, and had taken it with me in my +flight.</p> +<p>My feet naturally turned towards home. It was all +instinctive. The new horror had—for the time, at any +rate—drowned my mind in its mystery, deeper than the deepest depths +of thought or imagination.</p> +<h2>BOOK IV: UNDER THE FLAGSTAFF</h2> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 1, 1907.</p> +<p>For some days after the last adventure I was in truth in a half-dazed +condition, unable to think sensibly, hardly coherently. Indeed, it +was as much as I could do to preserve something of my habitual appearance +and manner. However, my first test happily came soon, and when I was +once through it I reacquired sufficient self-confidence to go through with +my purpose. Gradually the original phase of stupefaction passed, and +I was able to look the situation in the face. I knew the worst now, +at any rate; and when the lowest point has been reached things must begin +to mend. Still, I was wofully sensitive regarding anything which +might affect my Lady of the Shroud, or even my opinion of her. I even +began to dread Aunt Janet’s Second-Sight visions or dreams. +These had a fatal habit of coming so near to fact that they always made for +a danger of discovery. I had to realize now that the Lady of the +Shroud might indeed be a Vampire—one of that horrid race that +survives death and carries on a life-in-death existence eternally and only +for evil. Indeed, I began to <i>expect</i> that Aunt Janet would ere +long have some prophetic insight to the matter. She had been so +wonderfully correct in her prophetic surmises with regard to both the +visits to my room that it was hardly possible that she could fail to take +cognizance of this last development.</p> +<p>But my dread was not justified; at any rate, I had no reason to suspect +that by any force or exercise of her occult gift she might cause me concern +by the discovery of my secret. Only once did I feel that actual +danger in that respect was close to me. That was when she came early +one morning and rapped at my door. When I called out, “Who is +that? What is it?” she said in an agitated way:</p> +<p>“Thank God, laddie, you are all right! Go to sleep +again.”</p> +<p>Later on, when we met at breakfast, she explained that she had had a +nightmare in the grey of the morning. She thought she had seen me in +the crypt of a great church close beside a stone coffin; and, knowing that +such was an ominous subject to dream about, came as soon as she dared to +see if I was all right. Her mind was evidently set on death and +burial, for she went on:</p> +<p>“By the way, Rupert, I am told that the great church on time top +of the cliff across the creek is St. Sava’s, where the great people +of the country used to be buried. I want you to take me there some +day. We shall go over it, and look at the tombs and monuments +together. I really think I should be afraid to go alone, but it will +be all right if you are with me.” This was getting really +dangerous, so I turned it aside:</p> +<p>“Really, Aunt Janet, I’m afraid it won’t do. If +you go off to weird old churches, and fill yourself up with a fresh supply +of horrors, I don’t know what will happen. You’ll be +dreaming dreadful things about me every night and neither you nor I shall +get any sleep.” It went to my heart to oppose her in any wish; +and also this kind of chaffy opposition might pain her. But I had no +alternative; the matter was too serious to be allowed to proceed. +Should Aunt Janet go to the church, she would surely want to visit the +crypt. Should she do so, and there notice the glass-covered +tomb—as she could not help doing—the Lord only knew what would +happen. She had already Second-Sighted a woman being married to me, +and before I myself knew that I had such a hope. What might she not +reveal did she know where the woman came from? It may have been that +her power of Second Sight had to rest on some basis of knowledge or belief, +and that her vision was but some intuitive perception of my own subjective +thought. But whatever it was it should be stopped—at all +hazards.</p> +<p>This whole episode set me thinking introspectively, and led me gradually +but imperatively to self-analysis—not of powers, but of +motives. I found myself before long examining myself as to what were +my real intentions. I thought at first that this intellectual process +was an exercise of pure reason; but soon discarded this as +inadequate—even impossible. Reason is a cold manifestation; +this feeling which swayed and dominated me is none other than passion, +which is quick, hot, and insistent.</p> +<p>As for myself, the self-analysis could lead to but one result—the +expression to myself of the reality and definiteness of an already-formed +though unconscious intention. I wished to do the woman good—to +serve her in some way—to secure her some benefit by any means, no +matter how difficult, which might be within my power. I knew that I +loved her—loved her most truly and fervently; there was no need for +self-analysis to tell me that. And, moreover, no self-analysis, or +any other mental process that I knew of, could help my one doubt: whether +she was an ordinary woman (or an extraordinary woman, for the matter of +that) in some sore and terrible straits; or else one who lay under some +dreadful condition, only partially alive, and not mistress of herself or +her acts. Whichever her condition might be, there was in my own +feeling a superfluity of affection for her. The self-analysis taught +me one thing, at any rate—that I had for her, to start with, an +infinite pity which had softened towards her my whole being, and had +already mastered merely selfish desire. Out of it I began to find +excuses for her every act. In the doing so I knew now, though perhaps +I did not at the time the process was going on, that my view in its true +inwardness was of her as a living woman—the woman I loved.</p> +<p>In the forming of our ideas there are different methods of work, as +though the analogy with material life holds good. In the building of +a house, for instance, there are many persons employed; men of different +trades and occupations—architect, builder, masons, carpenters, +plumbers, and a host of others—and all these with the officials of +each guild or trade. So in the world of thought and feelings: +knowledge and understanding come through various agents, each competent to +its task.</p> +<p>How far pity reacted with love I knew not; I only knew that whatever her +state might be, were she living or dead, I could find in my heart no blame +for the Lady of the Shroud. It could not be that she was dead in the +real conventional way; for, after all, the Dead do not walk the earth in +corporal substance, even if there be spirits which take the corporal +form. This woman was of actual form and weight. How could I +doubt that, at all events—I, who had held her in my arms? Might +it not be that she was not quite dead, and that it had been given to me to +restore her to life again? Ah! that would be, indeed, a privilege +well worth the giving my life to accomplish. That such a thing may be +is possible. Surely the old myths were not absolute inventions; they +must have had a basis somewhere in fact. May not the world-old story +of Orpheus and Eurydice have been based on some deep-lying principle or +power of human nature? There is not one of us but has wished at some +time to bring back the dead. Ay, and who has not felt that in himself +or herself was power in the deep love for our dead to make them quick +again, did we but know the secret of how it was to be done?</p> +<p>For myself, I have seen such mysteries that I am open to conviction +regarding things not yet explained. These have been, of course, +amongst savages or those old-world people who have brought unchecked +traditions and beliefs—ay, and powers too—down the ages from +the dim days when the world was young; when forces were elemental, and +Nature’s handiwork was experimental rather than completed. Some +of these wonders may have been older still than the accepted period of our +own period of creation. May we not have to-day other wonders, +different only in method, but not more susceptible of belief? Obi-ism +and Fantee-ism have been exercised in my own presence, and their results +proved by the evidence of my own eyes and other senses. So, too, have +stranger rites, with the same object and the same success, in the far +Pacific Islands. So, too, in India and China, in Thibet and in the +Golden Chersonese. On all and each of these occasions there was, on +my own part, enough belief to set in motion the powers of understanding; +and there were no moral scruples to stand in the way of realization. +Those whose lives are so spent that they achieve the reputation of not +fearing man or God or devil are not deterred in their doing or thwarted +from a set purpose by things which might deter others not so equipped for +adventure. Whatever may be before them—pleasant or painful, +bitter or sweet, arduous or facile, enjoyable or terrible, humorous or full +of awe and horror—they must accept, taking them in the onward course +as a good athlete takes hurdles in his stride. And there must be no +hesitating, no looking back. If the explorer or the adventurer has +scruples, he had better give up that special branch of effort and come +himself to a more level walk in life. Neither must there be +regrets. There is no need for such; savage life has this advantage: +it begets a certain toleration not to be found in conventional +existence.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 2, 1907.</p> +<p>I had heard long ago that Second Sight is a terrible gift, even to its +possessor. I am now inclined not only to believe, but to understand +it. Aunt Janet has made such a practice of it of late that I go in +constant dread of discovery of my secret. She seems to parallel me +all the time, whatever I may do. It is like a sort of dual existence +to her; for she is her dear old self all the time, and yet some other +person with a sort of intellectual kit of telescope and notebook, which are +eternally used on me. I know they are <i>for</i> me, too—for +what she considers my good. But all the same it makes an +embarrassment. Happily Second Sight cannot speak as clearly as it +sees, or, rather, as it understands. For the translation of the vague +beliefs which it inculcates is both nebulous and uncertain—a sort of +Delphic oracle which always says things which no one can make out at the +time, but which can be afterwards read in any one of several ways. +This is all right, for in my case it is a kind of safety; but, then, Aunt +Janet is a very clever woman, and some time she herself may be able to +understand. Then she may begin to put two and two together. +When she does that, it will not be long before she knows more than I do of +the facts of the whole affair. And her reading of them and of the +Lady of the Shroud, round whom they circle, may not be the same as +mine. Well, that will be all right too. Aunt Janet loves +me—God knows I have good reason to know that all through these +years—and whatever view she may take, her acts will be all I could +wish. But I shall come in for a good lot of scolding, I am +sure. By the way, I ought to think of that; if Aunt Janet scolds me, +it is a pretty good proof that I ought to be scolded. I wonder if I +dare tell her all. No! It is too strange. She is only a +woman, after all: and if she knew I loved . . . I wish I knew her name, and +thought—as I might myself do, only that I resist it—that she is +not alive at all. Well, what she would either think or do beats +me. I suppose she would want to slipper me as she used to do when I +was a wee kiddie—in a different way, of course.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>I really could not go on seriously last night. The idea of Aunt +Janet giving me a licking as in the dear old days made me laugh so much +that nothing in the world seemed serious then. Oh, Aunt Janet is all +right whatever comes. That I am sure of, so I needn’t worry +over it. A good thing too; there will be plenty to worry about +without that. I shall not check her telling me of her visions, +however; I may learn something from them.</p> +<p>For the last four-and-twenty hours I have, whilst awake, been looking +over Aunt Janet’s books, of which I brought a wheen down here. +Gee whizz! No wonder the old dear is superstitious, when she is +filled up to the back teeth with that sort of stuff! There may be +some truth in some of those yarns; those who wrote them may believe in +them, or some of them, at all events. But as to coherence or logic, +or any sort of reasonable or instructive deduction, they might as well have +been written by so many hens! These occult book-makers seem to gather +only a lot of bare, bald facts, which they put down in the most +uninteresting way possible. They go by quantity only. One story +of the kind, well examined and with logical comments, would be more +convincing to a third party than a whole hecatomb of them.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 4, 1907.</p> +<p>There is evidently something up in the country. The mountaineers +are more uneasy than they have been as yet. There is constant going +to and fro amongst them, mostly at night and in the grey of the +morning. I spend many hours in my room in the eastern tower, from +which I can watch the woods, and gather from signs the passing to and +fro. But with all this activity no one has said to me a word on the +subject. It is undoubtedly a disappointment to me. I had hoped +that the mountaineers had come to trust me; that gathering at which they +wanted to fire their guns for me gave me strong hopes. But now it is +apparent that they do not trust me in full—as yet, at all +events. Well, I must not complain. It is all only right and +just. As yet I have done nothing to prove to them the love and +devotion that I feel to the country. I know that such individuals as +I have met trust me, and I believe like me. But the trust of a nation +is different. That has to be won and tested; he who would win it must +justify, and in a way that only troublous times can allow. No nation +will—can—give full meed of honour to a stranger in times of +peace. Why should it? I must not forget that I am here a +stranger in the land, and that to the great mass of people even my name is +unknown. Perhaps they will know me better when Rooke comes back with +that store of arms and ammunition that he has bought, and the little +warship he has got from South America. When they see that I hand over +the whole lot to the nation without a string on them, they may begin to +believe. In the meantime all I can do is to wait. It will all +come right in time, I have no doubt. And if it doesn’t come +right, well, we can only die once!</p> +<p>Is that so? What about my Lady of the Shroud? I must not +think of that or of her in this gallery. Love and war are separate, +and may not mix—cannot mix, if it comes to that. I must be wise +in the matter; and if I have got the hump in any degree whatever, must not +show it.</p> +<p>But one thing is certain: something is up, and it must be the +Turks. From what the Vladika said at that meeting they have some +intention of an attack on the Blue Mountains. If that be so, we must +be ready; and perhaps I can help there. The forces must be organized; +we must have some method of communication. In this country, where are +neither roads nor railways nor telegraphs, we must establish a signalling +system of some sort. <i>That</i> I can begin at once. I can +make a code, or adapt one that I have used elsewhere already. I shall +rig up a semaphore on the top of the Castle which can be seen for an +enormous distance around. I shall train a number of men to be facile +in signalling. And then, should need come, I may be able to show the +mountaineers that I am fit to live in their hearts . . .</p> +<p>And all this work may prove an anodyne to pain of another kind. It +will help, at any rate, to keep my mind occupied whilst I am waiting for +another visit from my Lady of the Shroud.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 18, 1907.</p> +<p>The two weeks that have passed have been busy, and may, as time goes on, +prove eventful. I really think they have placed me in a different +position with the Blue Mountaineers—certainly so far as those in this +part of the country are concerned. They are no longer suspicious of +me—which is much; though they have not yet received me into their +confidence. I suppose this will come in time, but I must not try to +hustle them. Already they are willing, so far as I can see, to use me +to their own ends. They accepted the signalling idea very readily, +and are quite willing to drill as much as I like. This can be (and I +think is, in its way) a pleasure to them. They are born soldiers, +every man of them; and practice together is only a realization of their own +wishes and a further development of their powers. I think I can +understand the trend of their thoughts, and what ideas of public policy lie +behind them. In all that we have attempted together as yet they are +themselves in absolute power. It rests with them to carry out any +ideas I may suggest, so they do not fear any assumption of power or +governance on my part. Thus, so long as they keep secret from me both +their ideas of high policy and their immediate intentions, I am powerless +to do them ill, and I <i>may</i> be of service should occasion arise. +Well, all told, this is much. Already they accept me as an +individual, not merely one of the mass. I am pretty sure that they +are satisfied of my personal <i>bona fides</i>. It is policy and not +mistrust that hedges me in. Well, policy is a matter of time. +They are a splendid people, but if they knew a little more than they do +they would understand that the wisest of all policies is trust—when +it can be given. I must hold myself in check, and never be betrayed +into a harsh thought towards them. Poor souls! with a thousand years +behind them of Turkish aggression, strenuously attempted by both force and +fraud, no wonder they are suspicious. Likewise every other nation +with whom they have ever come in contact—except one, my own—has +deceived or betrayed them. Anyhow, they are fine soldiers, and before +long we shall have an army that cannot be ignored. If I can get so +that they trust me, I shall ask Sir Colin to come out here. He would +be a splendid head for their army. His great military knowledge and +tactical skill would come in well. It makes me glow to think of what +an army he would turn out of this splendid material, and one especially +adapted for the style of fighting which would be necessary in this +country.</p> +<p>If a mere amateur like myself, who has only had experience of organizing +the wildest kind of savages, has been able to advance or compact their +individual style of fighting into systematic effort, a great soldier like +MacKelpie will bring them to perfection as a fighting machine. Our +Highlanders, when they come out, will foregather with them, as mountaineers +always do with each other. Then we shall have a force which can hold +its own against any odds. I only hope that Rooke will be returning +soon. I want to see those Ingis-Malbron rifles either safely stored +in the Castle or, what is better, divided up amongst the +mountaineers—a thing which will be done at the very earliest moment +that I can accomplish it. I have a conviction that when these men +have received their arms and ammunition from me they will understand me +better, and not keep any secrets from me.</p> +<p>All this fortnight when I was not drilling or going about amongst the +mountaineers, and teaching them the code which I have now got perfected, I +was exploring the side of the mountain nearest to here. I could not +bear to be still. It is torture to me to be idle in my present +condition of mind regarding my Lady of the Shroud . . . Strange I do not +mind mentioning the word to myself now. I used to at first; but that +bitterness has all gone away.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 19, 1907.</p> +<p>I was so restless early this morning that before daylight I was out +exploring on the mountain-side. By chance I came across a secret +place just as the day was breaking. Indeed, it was by the change of +light as the first sun-rays seemed to fall down the mountain-side that my +attention was called to an opening shown by a light behind it. It +was, indeed, a secret place—so secret that I thought at first I +should keep it to myself. In such a place as this either to hide in +or to be able to prevent anyone else hiding in might on occasion be an +asset of safety.</p> +<p>When, however, I saw indications rather than traces that someone had +already used it to camp in, I changed my mind, and thought that whenever I +should get an opportunity I would tell the Vladika of it, as he is a man on +whose discretion I can rely. If we ever have a war here or any sort +of invasion, it is just such places that may be dangerous. Even in my +own case it is much too near the Castle to be neglected.</p> +<p>The indications were meagre—only where a fire had been on a little +shelf of rock; and it was not possible, through the results of burning +vegetation or scorched grass, to tell how long before the fire had been +alight. I could only guess. Perhaps the mountaineers might be +able to tell or even to guess better than I could. But I am not so +sure of this. I am a mountaineer myself, and with larger and more +varied experience than any of them. For myself, though I could not be +certain, I came to the conclusion that whoever had used the place had done +so not many days before. It could not have been quite recently; but +it may not have been very long ago. Whoever had used it had covered +up his tracks well. Even the ashes had been carefully removed, and +the place where they had lain was cleaned or swept in some way, so that +there was no trace on the spot. I applied some of my West African +experience, and looked on the rough bark of the trees to leeward, to where +the agitated air, however directed, must have come, unless it was wanted to +call attention to the place by the scattered wood-ashes, however +fine. I found traces of it, but they were faint. There had not +been rain for several days; so the dust must have been blown there since +the rain had fallen, for it was still dry.</p> +<p>The place was a tiny gorge, with but one entrance, which was hidden +behind a barren spur of rock—just a sort of long fissure, jagged and +curving, in the rock, like a fault in the stratification. I could +just struggle through it with considerable effort, holding my breath here +and there, so as to reduce my depth of chest. Within it was +tree-clad, and full of possibilities of concealment.</p> +<p>As I came away I marked well its direction and approaches, noting any +guiding mark which might aid in finding it by day or night. I +explored every foot of ground around it—in front, on each side, and +above. But from nowhere could I see an indication of its +existence. It was a veritable secret chamber wrought by the hand of +Nature itself. I did not return home till I was familiar with every +detail near and around it. This new knowledge added distinctly to my +sense of security.</p> +<p>Later in the day I tried to find the Vladika or any mountaineer of +importance, for I thought that such a hiding-place which had been used so +recently might be dangerous, and especially at a time when, as I had +learned at the meeting where they did <i>not</i> fire their guns that there +may have been spies about or a traitor in the land.</p> +<p>Even before I came to my own room to-night I had fully made up my mind +to go out early in the morning and find some proper person to whom to +impart the information, so that a watch might be kept on the place. +It is now getting on for midnight, and when I have had my usual last look +at the garden I shall turn in. Aunt Janet was uneasy all day, and +especially so this evening. I think it must have been my absence at +the usual breakfast-hour which got on her nerves; and that unsatisfied +mental or psychical irritation increased as the day wore on.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 20, 1907.</p> +<p>The clock on the mantelpiece in my room, which chimes on the notes of +the clock at St. James’s Palace, was striking midnight when I opened +the glass door on the terrace. I had put out my lights before I drew +the curtain, as I wished to see the full effect of the moonlight. Now +that the rainy season is over, the moon is quite as beautiful as it was in +the wet, and a great deal more comfortable. I was in evening dress, +with a smoking-jacket in lieu of a coat, and I felt the air mild and mellow +on the warm side, as I stood on the terrace.</p> +<p>But even in that bright moonlight the further corners of the great +garden were full of mysterious shadows. I peered into them as well as +I could—and my eyes are pretty good naturally, and are well +trained. There was not the least movement. The air was as still +as death, the foliage as still as though wrought in stone.</p> +<p>I looked for quite a long time in the hope of seeing something of my +Lady. The quarters chimed several times, but I stood on +unheeding. At last I thought I saw far off in the very corner of the +old defending wall a flicker of white. It was but momentary, and +could hardly have accounted in itself for the way my heart beat. I +controlled myself, and stood as though I, too, were a graven image. I +was rewarded by seeing presently another gleam of white. And then an +unspeakable rapture stole over me as I realized that my Lady was coming as +she had come before. I would have hurried out to meet her, but that I +knew well that this would not be in accord with her wishes. So, +thinking to please her, I drew back into the room. I was glad I had +done so when, from the dark corner where I stood, I saw her steal up the +marble steps and stand timidly looking in at the door. Then, after a +long pause, came a whisper as faint and sweet as the music of a distant +Æolian harp:</p> +<p>“Are you there? May I come in? Answer me! I am +lonely and in fear!” For answer I emerged from my dim corner so +swiftly that she was startled. I could hear from the quivering intake +of her breath that she was striving—happily with success—to +suppress a shriek.</p> +<p>“Come in,” I said quietly. “I was waiting for +you, for I felt that you would come. I only came in from the terrace +when I saw you coming, lest you might fear that anyone might see us. +That is not possible, but I thought you wished that I should be +careful.”</p> +<p>“I did—I do,” she answered in a low, sweet voice, but +very firmly. “But never avoid precaution. There is +nothing that may not happen here. There may be eyes where we least +expect—or suspect them.” As she spoke the last words +solemnly and in a low whisper, she was entering the room. I closed +the glass door and bolted it, rolled back the steel grille, and pulled the +heavy curtain. Then, when I had lit a candle, I went over and put a +light to the fire. In a few seconds the dry wood had caught, and the +flames were beginning to rise and crackle. She had not objected to my +closing the window and drawing the curtain; neither did she make any +comment on my lighting the fire. She simply acquiesced in it, as +though it was now a matter of course. When I made the pile of +cushions before it as on the occasion of her last visit, she sank down on +them, and held out her white, trembling hands to the warmth.</p> +<p>She was different to-night from what she had been on either of the two +former visits. From her present bearing I arrived at some gauge of +her self-concern, her self-respect. Now that she was dry, and not +overmastered by wet and cold, a sweet and gracious dignity seemed to shine +from her, enwrapping her, as it were, with a luminous veil. It was +not that she was by this made or shown as cold or distant, or in any way +harsh or forbidding. On the contrary, protected by this dignity, she +seemed much more sweet and genial than before. It was as though she +felt that she could afford to stoop now that her loftiness was +realized—that her position was recognized and secure. If her +inherent dignity made an impenetrable nimbus round her, this was against +others; she herself was not bound by it, or to be bound. So marked +was this, so entirely and sweetly womanly did she appear, that I caught +myself wondering in flashes of thought, which came as sharp periods of +doubting judgment between spells of unconscious fascination, how I had ever +come to think she was aught but perfect woman. As she rested, half +sitting and half lying on the pile of cushions, she was all grace, and +beauty, and charm, and sweetness—the veritable perfect woman of the +dreams of a man, be he young or old. To have such a woman sit by his +hearth and hold her holy of holies in his heart might well be a rapture to +any man. Even an hour of such entrancing joy might be well won by a +lifetime of pain, by the balance of a long life sacrificed, by the +extinction of life itself. Quick behind the record of such thoughts +came the answer to the doubt they challenged: if it should turn out that +she was not living at all, but one of the doomed and pitiful Un-Dead, then +so much more on account of her very sweetness and beauty would be the +winning of her back to Life and Heaven—even were it that she might +find happiness in the heart and in the arms of another man.</p> +<p>Once, when I leaned over the hearth to put fresh logs on the fire, my +face was so close to hers that I felt her breath on my cheek. It +thrilled me to feel even the suggestion of that ineffable contact. +Her breath was sweet—sweet as the breath of a calf, sweet as the +whiff of a summer breeze across beds of mignonette. How could anyone +believe for a moment that such sweet breath could come from the lips of the +dead—the dead <i>in esse</i> or <i>in posse</i>—that corruption +could send forth fragrance so sweet and pure? It was with satisfied +happiness that, as I looked at her from my stool, I saw the dancing of the +flames from the beech-logs reflected in her glorious black eyes, and the +stars that were hidden in them shine out with new colours and new lustre as +they gleamed, rising and falling like hopes and fears. As the light +leaped, so did smiles of quiet happiness flit over her beautiful face, the +merriment of the joyous flames being reflected in ever-changing +dimples.</p> +<p>At first I was a little disconcerted whenever my eyes took note of her +shroud, and there came a momentary regret that the weather had not been +again bad, so that there might have been compulsion for her putting on +another garment—anything lacking the loathsomeness of that pitiful +wrapping. Little by little, however, this feeling disappeared, and I +found no matter for even dissatisfaction in her wrapping. Indeed, my +thoughts found inward voice before the subject was dismissed from my +mind:</p> +<p>“One becomes accustomed to anything—even a +shroud!” But the thought was followed by a submerging wave of +pity that she should have had such a dreadful experience.</p> +<p>By-and-by we seemed both to forget everything—I know I +did—except that we were man and woman, and close together. The +strangeness of the situation and the circumstances did not seem of +moment—not worth even a passing thought. We still sat apart and +said little, if anything. I cannot recall a single word that either +of us spoke whilst we sat before the fire, but other language than speech +came into play; the eyes told their own story, as eyes can do, and more +eloquently than lips whilst exercising their function of speech. +Question and answer followed each other in this satisfying language, and +with an unspeakable rapture I began to realize that my affection was +returned. Under these circumstances it was unrealizable that there +should be any incongruity in the whole affair. I was not myself in +the mood of questioning. I was diffident with that diffidence which +comes alone from true love, as though it were a necessary emanation from +that delightful and overwhelming and commanding passion. In her +presence there seemed to surge up within me that which forbade +speech. Speech under present conditions would have seemed to me +unnecessary, imperfect, and even vulgarly overt. She, too, was +silent. But now that I am alone, and memory is alone with me, I am +convinced that she also had been happy. No, not that exactly. +“Happiness” is not the word to describe either her feeling or +my own. Happiness is more active, a more conscious enjoyment. +We had been content. That expresses our condition perfectly; and now +that I can analyze my own feeling, and understand what the word implies, I +am satisfied of its accuracy. “Content” has both a +positive and negative meaning or antecedent condition. It implies an +absence of disturbing conditions as well as of wants; also it implies +something positive which has been won or achieved, or which has +accrued. In our state of mind—for though it may be presumption +on my part, I am satisfied that our ideas were mutual—it meant that +we had reached an understanding whence all that might come must be for +good. God grant that it may be so!</p> +<p>As we sat silent, looking into each other’s eyes, and whilst the +stars in hers were now full of latent fire, perhaps from the reflection of +the flames, she suddenly sprang to her feet, instinctively drawing the +horrible shroud round her as she rose to her full height in a voice full of +lingering emotion, as of one who is acting under spiritual compulsion +rather than personal will, she said in a whisper:</p> +<p>“I must go at once. I feel the morning drawing nigh. I +must be in my place when the light of day comes.”</p> +<p>She was so earnest that I felt I must not oppose her wish; so I, too, +sprang to my feet and ran towards the window. I pulled the curtain +aside sufficiently far for me to press back the grille and reach the glass +door, the latch of which I opened. I passed behind the curtain again, +and held the edge of it back so that she could go through. For an +instant she stopped as she broke the long silence:</p> +<p>“You are a true gentleman, and my friend. You understand all +I wish. Out of the depth of my heart I thank you.” She +held out her beautiful high-bred hand. I took it in both mine as I +fell on my knees, and raised it to my lips. Its touch made me +quiver. She, too, trembled as she looked down at me with a glance +which seemed to search my very soul. The stars in her eyes, now that +the firelight was no longer on them, had gone back to their own mysterious +silver. Then she drew her hand from mine very, very gently, as though +it would fain linger; and she passed out behind the curtain with a gentle, +sweet, dignified little bow which left me on my knees.</p> +<p>When I heard the glass door pulled-to gently behind her, I rose from my +knees and hurried without the curtain, just in time to watch her pass down +the steps. I wanted to see her as long as I could. The grey of +morning was just beginning to war with the night gloom, and by the faint +uncertain light I could see dimly the white figure flit between shrub and +statue till finally it merged in the far darkness.</p> +<p>I stood for a long time on the terrace, sometimes looking into the +darkness in front of me, in case I might be blessed with another glimpse of +her; sometimes with my eyes closed, so that I might recall and hold in my +mind her passage down the steps. For the first time since I had met +her she had thrown back at me a glance as she stepped on the white path +below the terrace. With the glamour over me of that look, which was +all love and enticement, I could have dared all the powers that be.</p> +<p>When the grey dawn was becoming apparent through the lightening of the +sky I returned to my room. In a dazed condition—half hypnotized +by love—I went to bed, and in dreams continued to think, all happily, +of my Lady of the Shroud.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 27, 1907.</p> +<p>A whole week has gone since I saw my Love! There it is; no doubt +whatever is left in my mind about it now! Since I saw her my passion +has grown and grown by leaps and bounds, as novelists put it. It has +now become so vast as to overwhelm me, to wipe out all thought of doubt or +difficulty. I suppose it must be what men suffered—suffering +need not mean pain—under enchantments in old times. I am but as +a straw whirled in the resistless eddies of a whirlpool. I feel that +I <i>must</i> see her again, even if it be but in her tomb in the +crypt. I must, I suppose, prepare myself for the venture, for many +things have to be thought of. The visit must not be at night, for in +such case I might miss her, did she come to me again here . . .</p> +<p>The morning came and went, but my wish and intention still remained; and +so in the full tide of noon, with the sun in all its fiery force, I set out +for the old church of St. Sava. I carried with me a lantern with +powerful lens. I had wrapped it up secretly, for I had a feeling that +I should not like anyone to know that I had such a thing with me.</p> +<p>On this occasion I had no misgivings. On the former visit I had +for a moment been overwhelmed at the unexpected sight of the body of the +woman I thought I loved—I knew it now—lying in her tomb. +But now I knew all, and it was to see this woman, though in her tomb, that +I came.</p> +<p>When I had lit my lantern, which I did as soon as I had pushed open the +great door, which was once again unlocked, I turned my steps to the steps +of the crypt, which lay behind the richly carven wood screen. This I +could see, with the better light, was a noble piece of work of priceless +beauty and worth. I tried to keep my heart in full courage with +thoughts of my Lady, and of the sweetness and dignity of our last meeting; +but, despite all, it sank down, down, and turned to water as I passed with +uncertain feet down the narrow, tortuous steps. My concern, I am now +convinced, was not for myself, but that she whom I adored should have to +endure such a fearful place. As anodyne to my own pain I thought what +it would be, and how I should feel, when I should have won for her a way +out of that horror, at any rate. This thought reassured me somewhat, +and restored my courage. It was in something of the same fashion +which has hitherto carried me out of tight places as well as into them that +at last I pushed open the low, narrow door at the foot of the rock-hewn +staircase and entered the crypt.</p> +<p>Without delay I made my way to the glass-covered tomb set beneath the +hanging chain. I could see by the flashing of the light around me +that my hand which held the lantern trembled. With a great effort I +steadied myself, and raising the lantern, turned its light down into the +sarcophagus.</p> +<p>Once again the fallen lantern rang on the tingling glass, and I stood +alone in the darkness, for an instant almost paralyzed with surprised +disappointment.</p> +<p>The tomb was empty! Even the trappings of the dead had been +removed.</p> +<p>I knew not what happened till I found myself groping my way up the +winding stair. Here, in comparison with the solid darkness of the +crypt, it seemed almost light. The dim expanse of the church sent a +few straggling rays down the vaulted steps, and as I could see, be it never +so dimly, I felt I was not in absolute darkness. With the light came +a sense of power and fresh courage, and I groped my way back into the crypt +again. There, by now and again lighting matches, I found my way to +the tomb and recovered my lantern. Then I took my way +slowly—for I wished to prove, if not my own courage, at least such +vestiges of self-respect as the venture had left me—through the +church, where I extinguished my lantern, and out through the great door +into the open sunlight. I seemed to have heard, both in the darkness +of the crypt and through the dimness of the church, mysterious sounds as of +whispers and suppressed breathing; but the memory of these did not count +for much when once I was free. I was only satisfied of my own +consciousness and identity when I found myself on the broad rock terrace in +front of the church, with the fierce sunlight beating on my upturned face, +and, looking downward, saw far below me the rippled blue of the open +sea.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>Another week has elapsed—a week full of movement of many kinds and +in many ways—but as yet I have had no tale or tidings of my Lady of +the Shroud. I have not had an opportunity of going again in daylight +to St. Sava’s as I should have liked to have done. I felt that +I must not go at night. The night is her time of freedom, and it must +be kept for her—or else I may miss her, or perhaps never see her +again.</p> +<p>The days have been full of national movement. The mountaineers +have evidently been organizing themselves, for some reason which I cannot +quite understand, and which they have hesitated to make known to me. +I have taken care not to manifest any curiosity, whatever I may have +felt. This would certainly arouse suspicion, and might ultimately +cause disaster to my hopes of aiding the nation in their struggle to +preserve their freedom.</p> +<p>These fierce mountaineers are strangely—almost +unduly—suspicious, and the only way to win their confidence is to +begin the trusting. A young American attaché of the Embassy at +Vienna, who had made a journey through the Land of the Blue Mountains, once +put it to me in this form:</p> +<p>“Keep your head shut, and they’ll open theirs. If you +don’t, they’ll open it for you—down to the +chine!”</p> +<p>It was quite apparent to me that they were completing some fresh +arrangements for signalling with a code of their own. This was +natural enough, and in no way inconsistent with the measure of friendliness +already shown to me. Where there are neither telegraphs, railways, +nor roads, any effective form of communication must—can only be +purely personal. And so, if they wish to keep any secret amongst +themselves, they must preserve the secret of their code. I should +have dearly liked to learn their new code and their manner of using it, but +as I want to be a helpful friend to them—and as this implies not only +trust, but the appearance of it—I had to school myself to +patience.</p> +<p>This attitude so far won their confidence that before we parted at our +last meeting, after most solemn vows of faith and secrecy, they took me +into the secret. This was, however, only to the extent of teaching me +the code and method; they still withheld from me rigidly the fact or +political secret, or whatever it was that was the mainspring of their +united action.</p> +<p>When I got home I wrote down, whilst it was fresh in my memory, all they +told me. This script I studied until I had it so thoroughly by heart +that I <i>could</i> not forget it. Then I burned the paper. +However, there is now one gain at least: with my semaphore I can send +through the Blue Mountains from side to side, with expedition, secrecy, and +exactness, a message comprehensible to all.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 6, 1907.</p> +<p>Last night I had a new experience of my Lady of the Shroud—in so +far as form was concerned, at any rate. I was in bed, and just +falling asleep, when I heard a queer kind of scratching at the glass door +of the terrace. I listened acutely, my heart beating hard. The +sound seemed to come from low down, close to the floor. I jumped out +of bed, ran to the window, and, pulling aside the heavy curtains, looked +out.</p> +<p>The garden looked, as usual, ghostly in the moonlight, but there was not +the faintest sign of movement anywhere, and no one was on or near the +terrace. I looked eagerly down to where the sound had seemed to come +from.</p> +<p>There, just inside the glass door, as though it had been pushed under +the door, lay a paper closely folded in several laps. I picked it up +and opened it. I was all in a tumult, for my heart told me whence it +came. Inside was written in English, in a large, sprawling hand, such +as might be from an English child of seven or eight:</p> +<p>“Meet me at the Flagstaff on the Rock!”</p> +<p>I knew the place, of course. On the farthermost point of the rock +on which the Castle stands is set a high flagstaff, whereon in old time the +banner of the Vissarion family flew. At some far-off time, when the +Castle had been liable to attack, this point had been strongly +fortified. Indeed, in the days when the bow was a martial weapon it +must have been quite impregnable.</p> +<p>A covered gallery, with loopholes for arrows, had been cut in the solid +rock, running right round the point, quite surrounding the flagstaff and +the great boss of rock on whose centre it was reared. A narrow +drawbridge of immense strength had connected—in peaceful times, and +still remained—the outer point of rock with an entrance formed in the +outer wall, and guarded with flanking towers and a portcullis. Its +use was manifestly to guard against surprise. From this point only +could be seen the line of the rocks all round the point. Thus, any +secret attack by boats could be made impossible.</p> +<p>Having hurriedly dressed myself, and taking with me both hunting-knife +and revolver, I went out on the terrace, taking the precaution, unusual to +me, of drawing the grille behind me and locking it. Matters around +the Castle are in far too disturbed a condition to allow the taking of any +foolish chances, either in the way of being unarmed or of leaving the +private entrance to the Castle open. I found my way through the rocky +passage, and climbed by the Jacob’s ladder fixed on the rock—a +device of convenience in time of peace—to the foot of the +flagstaff.</p> +<p>I was all on fire with expectation, and the time of going seemed +exceeding long; so I was additionally disappointed by the contrast when I +did not see my Lady there when I arrived. However, my heart beat +freely again—perhaps more freely than ever—when I saw her +crouching in the shadow of the Castle wall. From where she was she +could not be seen from any point save that alone which I occupied; even +from there it was only her white shroud that was conspicuous through the +deep gloom of the shadow. The moonlight was so bright that the +shadows were almost unnaturally black.</p> +<p>I rushed over towards her, and when close was about to say impulsively, +“Why did you leave your tomb?” when it suddenly struck me that +the question would be malapropos and embarrassing in many ways. So, +better judgment prevailing, I said instead:</p> +<p>“It has been so long since I saw you! It has seemed an +eternity to me!” Her answer came as quickly as even I could +have wished; she spoke impulsively and without thought:</p> +<p>“It has been long to me too! Oh, so long! so long! I +have asked you to come out here because I wanted to see you so much that I +could not wait any longer. I have been heart-hungry for a sight of +you!”</p> +<p>Her words, her eager attitude, the ineffable something which conveys the +messages of the heart, the longing expression in her eyes as the full +moonlight fell on her face, showing the stars as living gold—for in +her eagerness she had stepped out towards me from the shadow—all set +me on fire. Without a thought or a word—for it was Nature +speaking in the language of Love, which is a silent tongue—I stepped +towards her and took her in my arms. She yielded with that sweet +unconsciousness which is the perfection of Love, as if it was in obedience +to some command uttered before the beginning of the world. Probably +without any conscious effort on either side—I know there was none on +mine—our mouths met in the first kiss of love.</p> +<p>At the time nothing in the meeting struck me as out of the common. +But later in the night, when I was alone and in darkness, whenever I +thought of it all—its strangeness and its stranger rapture—I +could not but be sensible of the bizarre conditions for a love +meeting. The place lonely, the time night, the man young and strong, +and full of life and hope and ambition; the woman, beautiful and ardent +though she was, a woman seemingly dead, clothed in the shroud in which she +had been wrapped when lying in her tomb in the crypt of the old church.</p> +<p>Whilst we were together, anyhow, there was little thought of the kind; +no reasoning of any kind on my part. Love has its own laws and its +own logic. Under the flagstaff, where the Vissarion banner was wont +to flap in the breeze, she was in my arms; her sweet breath was on my face; +her heart was beating against my own. What need was there for reason +at all? <i>Inter arma silent leges</i>—the voice of reason is +silent in the stress of passion. Dead she may be, or Un-dead—a +Vampire with one foot in Hell and one on earth. But I love her; and +come what may, here or hereafter, she is mine. As my mate, we shall +fare along together, whatsoever the end may be, or wheresoever our path may +lead. If she is indeed to be won from the nethermost Hell, then be +mine the task!</p> +<p>But to go back to the record. When I had once started speaking to +her in words of passion I could not stop. I did not want to—if +I could; and she did not appear to wish it either. Can there be a +woman—alive or dead—who would not want to hear the rapture of +her lover expressed to her whilst she is enclosed in his arms?</p> +<p>There was no attempt at reticence on my part now; I took it for granted +that she knew all that I surmised, and, as she made neither protest nor +comment, that she accepted my belief as to her indeterminate +existence. Sometimes her eyes would be closed, but even then the +rapture of her face was almost beyond belief. Then, when the +beautiful eyes would open and gaze on me, the stars that were in them would +shine and scintillate as though they were formed of living fire. She +said little, very little; but though the words were few, every syllable was +fraught with love, and went straight to the very core of my heart.</p> +<p>By-and-by, when our transport had calmed to joy, I asked when I might +next see her, and how and where I might find her when I should want +to. She did not reply directly, but, holding me close in her arms, +whispered in my ear with that breathless softness which is a lover’s +rapture of speech:</p> +<p>“I have come here under terrible difficulties, not only because I +love you—and that would be enough—but because, as well as the +joy of seeing you, I wanted to warn you.”</p> +<p>“To warn me! Why?” I queried. Her reply came +with a bashful hesitation, with something of a struggle in it, as of one +who for some ulterior reason had to pick her words:</p> +<p>“There are difficulties and dangers ahead of you. You are +beset with them; and they are all the greater because they are, of grim +necessity, hidden from you. You cannot go anywhere, look in any +direction, do anything, say anything, but it may be a signal for +danger. My dear, it lurks everywhere—in the light as well as in +the darkness; in the open as well as in the secret places; from friends as +well as foes; when you are least prepared; when you may least expect +it. Oh, I know it, and what it is to endure; for I share it for +you—for your dear sake!”</p> +<p>“My darling!” was all I could say, as I drew her again +closer to me and kissed her. After a bit she was calmer; seeing this, +I came back to the subject that she had—in part, at all +events—come to me to speak about:</p> +<p>“But if difficulty and danger hedge me in so everlastingly, and if +I am to have no indication whatever of its kind or purpose, what can I +do? God knows I would willingly guard myself—not on my own +account, but for your dear sake. I have now a cause to live and be +strong, and to keep all my faculties, since it may mean much to you. +If you may not tell me details, may you not indicate to me some line of +conduct, of action, that would be most in accord with your wishes—or, +rather, with your idea of what would be best?”</p> +<p>She looked at me fixedly before speaking—a long, purposeful, +loving look which no man born of woman could misunderstand. Then she +spoke slowly, deliberately, emphatically:</p> +<p>“Be bold, and fear not. Be true to yourself, to me—it +is the same thing. These are the best guards you can use. Your +safety does not rest with me. Ah, I wish it did! I wish to God +it did!” In my inner heart it thrilled me not merely to hear +the expression of her wish, but to hear her use the name of God as she +did. I understand now, in the calm of this place and with the +sunlight before me, that my belief as to her being all woman—living +woman—was not quite dead: but though at the moment my heart did not +recognize the doubt, my brain did. And I made up my mind that we +should not part this time until she knew that I had seen her, and where; +but, despite my own thoughts, my outer ears listened greedily as she went +on.</p> +<p>“As for me, you may not find <i>me</i>, but <i>I</i> shall find +<i>you</i>, be sure! And now we must say ‘Good-night,’ my +dear, my dear! Tell me once again that you love me, for it is a +sweetness that one does not wish to forego—even one who wears such a +garment as this—and rests where I must rest.” As she +spoke she held up part of her cerements for me to see. What could I +do but take her once again in my arms and hold her close, close. God +knows it was all in love; but it was passionate love which surged through +my every vein as I strained her dear body to mine. But yet this +embrace was not selfish; it was not all an expression of my own +passion. It was based on pity—the pity which is twin-born with +true love. Breathless from our kisses, when presently we released +each other, she stood in a glorious rapture, like a white spirit in the +moonlight, and as her lovely, starlit eyes seemed to devour me, she spoke +in a languorous ecstasy:</p> +<p>“Oh, how you love me! how you love me! It is worth all I +have gone through for this, even to wearing this terrible +drapery.” And again she pointed to her shroud.</p> +<p>Here was my chance to speak of what I knew, and I took it. +“I know, I know. Moreover, I know that awful +resting-place.”</p> +<p>I was interrupted, cut short in the midst of my sentence, not by any +word, but by the frightened look in her eyes and the fear-mastered way in +which she shrank away from me. I suppose in reality she could not be +paler than she looked when the colour-absorbing moonlight fell on her; but +on the instant all semblance of living seemed to shrink and fall away, and +she looked with eyes of dread as if in I some awful way held in +thrall. But for the movement of the pitiful glance, she would have +seemed of soulless marble, so deadly cold did she look.</p> +<p>The moments that dragged themselves out whilst I waited for her to speak +seemed endless. At length her words came in an awed whisper, so faint +that even in that stilly night I could hardly hear it:</p> +<p>“You know—you know my resting-place! How—when +was that?” There was nothing to do now but to speak out the +truth:</p> +<p>“I was in the crypt of St. Sava. It was all by +accident. I was exploring all around the Castle, and I went there in +my course. I found the winding stair in the rock behind the screen, +and went down. Dear, I loved you well before that awful moment, but +then, even as the lantern fell tingling on the glass, my love multiplied +itself, with pity as a factor.” She was silent for a few +seconds. When she spoke, there was a new tone in her voice:</p> +<p>“But were you not shocked?”</p> +<p>“Of course I was,” I answered on the spur of the moment, and +I now think wisely. “Shocked is hardly the word. I was +horrified beyond anything that words can convey that you—<i>you</i> +should have to so endure! I did not like to return, for I feared lest +my doing so might set some barrier between us. But in due time I did +return on another day.”</p> +<p>“Well?” Her voice was like sweet music.</p> +<p>“I had another shock that time, worse than before, for you were +not there. Then indeed it was that I knew to myself how dear you +were—how dear you are to me. Whilst I live, you—living or +dead—shall always be in my heart.” She breathed +hard. The elation in her eyes made them outshine the moonlight, but +she said no word. I went on:</p> +<p>“My dear, I had come into the crypt full of courage and hope, +though I knew what dreadful sight should sear my eyes once again. But +we little know what may be in store for us, no matter what we expect. +I went out with a heart like water from that dreadful +desolation.”</p> +<p>“Oh, how you love me, dear!” Cheered by her words, and +even more by her tone, I went on with renewed courage. There was no +halting, no faltering in my intention now:</p> +<p>“You and I, my dear, were ordained for each other. I cannot +help it that you had already suffered before I knew you. It may be +that there may be for you still suffering that I may not prevent, endurance +that I may not shorten; but what a man can do is yours. Not Hell +itself will stop me, if it be possible that I may win through its torments +with you in my arms!”</p> +<p>“Will nothing stop you, then?” Her question was +breathed as softly as the strain of an Æolian harp.</p> +<p>“Nothing!” I said, and I heard my own teeth snap +together. There was something speaking within me stronger than I had +ever known myself to be. Again came a query, trembling, quavering, +quivering, as though the issue was of more than life or death:</p> +<p>“Not this?” She held up a corner of the shroud, and as +she saw my face and realized the answer before I spoke, went on: +“With all it implies?”</p> +<p>“Not if it were wrought of the cerecloths of the +damned!” There was a long pause. Her voice was more +resolute when she spoke again. It rang. Moreover, there was in +it a joyous note, as of one who feels new hope:</p> +<p>“But do you know what men say? Some of them, that I am dead +and buried; others, that I am not only dead and buried, but that I am one +of those unhappy beings that may not die the common death of man. Who +live on a fearful life-in-death, whereby they are harmful to all. +Those unhappy Un-dead whom men call Vampires—who live on the blood of +the living, and bring eternal damnation as well as death with the poison of +their dreadful kisses!</p> +<p>“I know what men say sometimes,” I answered. +“But I know also what my own heart says; and I rather choose to obey +its calling than all the voices of the living or the dead. Come what +may, I am pledged to you. If it be that your old life has to be rewon +for you out of the very jaws of Death and Hell, I shall keep the faith I +have pledged, and that here I pledge again!” As I finished +speaking I sank on my knees at her feet, and, putting my arms round her, +drew her close to me. Her tears rained down on my face as she stroked +my hair with her soft, strong hand and whispered to me:</p> +<p>“This is indeed to be one. What more holy marriage can God +give to any of His creatures?” We were both silent for a +time.</p> +<p>I think I was the first to recover my senses. That I did so was +manifest by my asking her: “When may we meet again?”—a +thing I had never remembered doing at any of our former partings. She +answered with a rising and falling of the voice that was just above a +whisper, as soft and cooing as the voice of a pigeon:</p> +<p>“That will be soon—as soon as I can manage it, be +sure. My dear, my dear!” The last four words of +endearment she spoke in a low but prolonged and piercing tone which made me +thrill with delight.</p> +<p>“Give me some token,” I said, “that I may have always +close to me to ease my aching heart till we meet again, and ever after, for +love’s sake!” Her mind seemed to leap to understanding, +and with a purpose all her own. Stooping for an instant, she tore off +with swift, strong fingers a fragment of her shroud. This, having +kissed it, she handed to me, whispering:</p> +<p>“It is time that we part. You must leave me now. Take +this, and keep it for ever. I shall be less unhappy in my terrible +loneliness whilst it lasts if I know that this my gift, which for good or +ill is a part of me as you know me, is close to you. It may be, my +very dear, that some day you may be glad and even proud of this hour, as I +am.” She kissed me as I took it.</p> +<p>“For life or death, I care not which, so long as I am with +you!” I said, as I moved off. Descending the Jacob’s +ladder, I made my way down the rock-hewn passage.</p> +<p>The last thing I saw was the beautiful face of my Lady of the Shroud as +she leaned over the edge of the opening. Her eyes were like glowing +stars as her looks followed me. That look shall never fade from my +memory.</p> +<p>After a few agitating moments of thought I half mechanically took my way +down to the garden. Opening the grille, I entered my lonely room, +which looked all the more lonely for the memory of the rapturous moments +under the Flagstaff. I went to bed as one in a dream. There I +lay till sunrise—awake and thinking.</p> +<h2>BOOK V: A RITUAL AT MIDNIGHT</h2> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 20, 1907.</p> +<p>The time has gone as quickly as work can effect since I saw my +Lady. As I told the mountaineers, Rooke, whom I had sent on the +service, had made a contract for fifty thousand Ingis-Malbron rifles, and +as many tons of ammunition as the French experts calculated to be a full +supply for a year of warfare. I heard from him by our secret +telegraph code that the order had been completed, and that the goods were +already on the way. The morning after the meeting at the Flagstaff I +had word that at night the vessel—one chartered by Rooke for the +purpose—would arrive at Vissarion during the night. We were all +expectation. I had always now in the Castle a signalling party, the +signals being renewed as fast as the men were sufficiently expert to +proceed with their practice alone or in groups. We hoped that every +fighting-man in the country would in time become an expert signaller. +Beyond these, again, we have always a few priests. The Church of the +country is a militant Church; its priests are soldiers, its Bishops +commanders. But they all serve wherever the battle most needs +them. Naturally they, as men of brains, are quicker at learning than +the average mountaineers; with the result that they learnt the code and the +signalling almost by instinct. We have now at least one such expert +in each community of them, and shortly the priests alone will be able to +signal, if need be, for the nation; thus releasing for active service the +merely fighting-man. The men at present with me I took into +confidence as to the vessel’s arrival, and we were all ready for work +when the man on the lookout at the Flagstaff sent word that a vessel +without lights was creeping in towards shore. We all assembled on the +rocky edge of the creek, and saw her steal up the creek and gain the +shelter of the harbour. When this had been effected, we ran out the +boom which protects the opening, and after that the great armoured +sliding-gates which Uncle Roger had himself had made so as to protect the +harbour in case of need.</p> +<p>We then came within and assisted in warping the steamer to the side of +the dock.</p> +<p>Rooke looked fit, and was full of fire and vigour. His +responsibility and the mere thought of warlike action seemed to have +renewed his youth.</p> +<p>When we had arranged for the unloading of the cases of arms and +ammunition, I took Rooke into the room which we call my +“office,” where he gave me an account of his doings. He +had not only secured the rifles and the ammunition for them, but he had +purchased from one of the small American Republics an armoured yacht which +had been especially built for war service. He grew quite +enthusiastic, even excited, as he told me of her:</p> +<p>“She is the last word in naval construction—a torpedo +yacht. A small cruiser, with turbines up to date, oil-fuelled, and +fully armed with the latest and most perfect weapons and explosives of all +kinds. The fastest boat afloat to-day. Built by Thorneycroft, +engined by Parsons, armoured by Armstrong, armed by Crupp. If she +ever comes into action, it will be bad for her opponent, for she need not +fear to tackle anything less than a <i>Dreadnought</i>.”</p> +<p>He also told me that from the same Government, whose nation had just +established an unlooked-for peace, he had also purchased a whole park of +artillery of the very latest patterns, and that for range and accuracy the +guns were held to be supreme. These would follow before long, and +with them their proper ammunition, with a shipload of the same to follow +shortly after.</p> +<p>When he had told me all the rest of his news, and handed me the +accounts, we went out to the dock to see the debarkation of the war +material. Knowing that it was arriving, I had sent word in the +afternoon to the mountaineers to tell them to come and remove it. +They had answered the call, and it really seemed to me that the whole of +the land must that night have been in motion.</p> +<p>They came as individuals, grouping themselves as they came within the +defences of the Castle; some had gathered at fixed points on the way. +They went secretly and in silence, stealing through the forests like +ghosts, each party when it grouped taking the place of that which had gone +on one of the routes radiating round Vissarion. Their coming and +going was more than ghostly. It was, indeed, the outward +manifestation of an inward spirit—a whole nation dominated by one +common purpose.</p> +<p>The men in the steamer were nearly all engineers, mostly British, well +conducted, and to be depended upon. Rooke had picked them separately, +and in the doing had used well his great experience of both men and +adventurous life. These men were to form part of the armoured +yacht’s crew when she should come into the Mediterranean +waters. They and the priests and fighting-men in the Castle worked +well together, and with a zeal that was beyond praise. The heavy +cases seemed almost of their own accord to leave the holds, so fast came +the procession of them along the gangways from deck to dock-wall. It +was a part of my design that the arms should be placed in centres ready for +local distribution. In such a country as this, without railways or +even roads, the distribution of war material in any quantity is a great +labour, for it has to be done individually, or at least from centres.</p> +<p>But of this work the great number of mountaineers who were arriving made +little account. As fast as the ship’s company, with the +assistance of the priests and fighting-men, placed the cases on the quay, +the engineers opened them and laid the contents ready for portage. +The mountaineers seemed to come in a continuous stream; each in turn +shouldered his burden and passed out, the captain of his section giving him +as he passed his instruction where to go and in what route. The +method had been already prepared in my office ready for such a distribution +when the arms should arrive, and descriptions and quantities had been noted +by the captains. The whole affair was treated by all as a matter of +the utmost secrecy. Hardly a word was spoken beyond the necessary +directions, and these were given in whispers. All night long the +stream of men went and came, and towards dawn the bulk of the imported +material was lessened by half. On the following night the remainder +was removed, after my own men had stored in the Castle the rifles and +ammunition reserved for its defence if necessary. It was advisable to +keep a reserve supply in case it should ever be required. The +following night Rooke went away secretly in the chartered vessel. He +had to bring back with him the purchased cannon and heavy ammunition, which +had been in the meantime stored on one of the Greek islands. The +second morning, having had secret word that the steamer was on the way, I +had given the signal for the assembling of the mountaineers.</p> +<p>A little after dark the vessel, showing no light, stole into the +creek. The barrier gates were once again closed, and when a +sufficient number of men had arrived to handle the guns, we began to +unload. The actual deportation was easy enough, for the dock had all +necessary appliances quite up to date, including a pair of shears for +gun-lifting which could be raised into position in a very short time.</p> +<p>The guns were well furnished with tackle of all sorts, and before many +hours had passed a little procession of them disappeared into the woods in +ghostly silence. A number of men surrounded each, and they moved as +well as if properly supplied with horses.</p> +<p>In the meantime, and for a week after the arrival of the guns, the +drilling went on without pause. The gun-drill was wonderful. In +the arduous work necessary for it the great strength and stamina of the +mountaineers showed out wonderfully. They did not seem to know +fatigue any more than they knew fear.</p> +<p>For a week this went on, till a perfect discipline and management was +obtained. They did not practise the shooting, for this would have +made secrecy impossible. It was reported all along the Turkish +frontier that the Sultan’s troops were being massed, and though this +was not on a war footing, the movement was more or less dangerous. +The reports of our own spies, although vague as to the purpose and extent +of the movement, were definite as to something being on foot. And +Turkey does not do something without a purpose that bodes ill to +someone. Certainly the sound of cannon, which is a far-reaching +sound, would have given them warning of our preparations, and would so have +sadly minimized their effectiveness.</p> +<p>When the cannon had all been disposed of—except, of course, those +destined for defence of the Castle or to be stored there—Rooke went +away with the ship and crew. The ship he was to return to the owners; +the men would be shipped on the war-yacht, of whose crew they would form a +part. The rest of them had been carefully selected by Rooke himself, +and were kept in secrecy at Cattaro, ready for service the moment +required. They were all good men, and quite capable of whatever work +they might be set to. So Rooke told me, and he ought to know. +The experience of his young days as a private made him an expert in such a +job.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 24, 1907.</p> +<p>Last night I got from my Lady a similar message to the last, and +delivered in a similar way. This time, however, our meeting was to be +on the leads of the Keep.</p> +<p>I dressed myself very carefully before going on this adventure, lest by +any chance of household concern, any of the servants should see me; for if +this should happen, Aunt Janet would be sure to hear of it, which would +give rise to endless surmises and questionings—a thing I was far from +desiring.</p> +<p>I confess that in thinking the matter over during the time I was making +my hurried preparations I was at a loss to understand how any human body, +even though it be of the dead, could go or be conveyed to such a place +without some sort of assistance, or, at least, collusion, on the part of +some of the inmates. At the visit to the Flagstaff circumstances were +different. This spot was actually outside the Castle, and in order to +reach it I myself had to leave the Castle privately, and from the garden +ascend to the ramparts. But here was no such possibility. The +Keep was an <i>imperium in imperio</i>. It stood within the Castle, +though separated from it, and it had its own defences against +intrusion. The roof of it was, so far as I knew, as little +approachable as the magazine.</p> +<p>The difficulty did not, however, trouble me beyond a mere passing +thought. In the joy of the coming meeting and the longing rapture at +the mere thought of it, all difficulties disappeared. Love makes its +own faith, and I never doubted that my Lady would be waiting for me at the +place designated. When I had passed through the little arched +passages, and up the doubly-grated stairways contrived in the massiveness +of the walls, I let myself out on the leads. It was well that as yet +the times were sufficiently peaceful not to necessitate guards or sentries +at all such points.</p> +<p>There, in a dim corner where the moonlight and the passing clouds threw +deep shadows, I saw her, clothed as ever in her shroud. Why, I know +not. I felt somehow that the situation was even more serious than +ever. But I was steeled to whatever might come. My mind had +been already made up. To carry out my resolve to win the woman I +loved I was ready to face death. But now, after we had for a few +brief moments held each other in our arms, I was willing to accept +death—or more than death. Now, more than before, was she sweet +and dear to me. Whatever qualms there might have been at the +beginning of our love-making, or during the progress of it, did not now +exist. We had exchanged vows and confidences, and acknowledged our +loves. What, then, could there be of distrust, or even doubt, that +the present might not set at naught? But even had there been such +doubts or qualms, they must have disappeared in the ardour of our mutual +embrace. I was by now mad for her, and was content to be so +mad. When she had breath to speak after the strictness of our +embrace, she said:</p> +<p>“I have come to warn you to be more than ever +careful.” It was, I confess, a pang to me, who thought only of +love, to hear that anything else should have been the initiative power of +her coming, even though it had been her concern for my own safety. I +could not but notice the bitter note of chagrin in my voice as I +answered:</p> +<p>“It was for love’s sake that <i>I</i> came.” +She, too, evidently felt the undercurrent of pain, for she said +quickly:</p> +<p>“Ah, dearest, I, too, came for love’s sake. It is +because I love you that I am so anxious about you. What would the +world—ay, or heaven—be to me without you?”</p> +<p>There was such earnest truth in her tone that the sense and realization +of my own harshness smote me. In the presence of such love as this +even a lover’s selfishness must become abashed. I could not +express myself in words, so simply raised her slim hand in mine and kissed +it. As it lay warm in my own I could not but notice, as well as its +fineness, its strength and the firmness of its clasp. Its warmth and +fervour struck into my heart—and my brain. Thereupon I poured +out to her once more my love for her, she listening all afire. When +passion had had its say, the calmer emotions had opportunity of +expression. When I was satisfied afresh of her affection, I began to +value her care for my safety, and so I went back to the subject. Her +very insistence, based on personal affection, gave me more solid ground for +fear. In the moment of love transports I had forgotten, or did not +think, of what wonderful power or knowledge she must have to be able to +move in such strange ways as she did. Why, at this very moment she +was within my own gates. Locks and bars, even the very seal of death +itself, seemed unable to make for her a prison-house. With such +freedom of action and movement, going when she would into secret places, +what might she not know that was known to others? How could anyone +keep secret from such an one even an ill intent? Such thoughts, such +surmises, had often flashed through my mind in moments of excitement rather +than of reflection, but never long enough to become fixed into +belief. But yet the consequences, the convictions, of them were with +me, though unconsciously, though the thoughts themselves were perhaps +forgotten or withered before development.</p> +<p>“And you?” I asked her earnestly. “What about +danger to you?” She smiled, her little pearl-white teeth +gleaming in the moonlight, as she spoke:</p> +<p>“There is no danger for me. I am safe. I am the safest +person, perhaps the only safe person, in all this land.” The +full significance of her words did not seem to come to me all at +once. Some base for understanding such an assertion seemed to be +wanting. It was not that I did not trust or believe her, but that I +thought she might be mistaken. I wanted to reassure myself, so in my +distress I asked unthinkingly:</p> +<p>“How the safest? What is your protection?” For +several moments that spun themselves out endlessly she looked me straight +in the face, the stars in her eyes seeming to glow like fire; then, +lowering her head, she took a fold of her shroud and held it up to me.</p> +<p>“This!”</p> +<p>The meaning was complete and understandable now. I could not speak +at once for the wave of emotion which choked me. I dropped on my +knees, and taking her in my arms, held her close to me. She saw that +I was moved, and tenderly stroked my hair, and with delicate touch pressed +down my head on her bosom, as a mother might have done to comfort a +frightened child.</p> +<p>Presently we got back to the realities of life again. I +murmured:</p> +<p>“Your safety, your life, your happiness are all-in-all to +me. When will you let them be my care?” She trembled in +my arms, nestling even closer to me. Her own arms seemed to quiver +with delight as she said:</p> +<p>“Would you indeed like me to be always with you? To me it +would be a happiness unspeakable; and to you, what would it be?”</p> +<p>I thought that she wished to hear me speak my love to her, and that, +woman-like, she had led me to the utterance, and so I spoke again of the +passion that now raged in me, she listening eagerly as we strained each +other tight in our arms. At last there came a pause, a long, long +pause, and our hearts beat consciously in unison as we stood +together. Presently she said in a sweet, low, intense whisper, as +soft as the sighing of summer wind:</p> +<p>“It shall be as you wish; but oh, my dear, you will have to first +go through an ordeal which may try you terribly! Do not ask me +anything! You must not ask, because I may not answer, and it would be +pain to me to deny you anything. Marriage with such an one as I am +has its own ritual, which may not be foregone. It may . . . +” I broke passionately into her speaking:</p> +<p>“There is no ritual that I fear, so long as it be that it is for +your good, and your lasting happiness. And if the end of it be that I +may call you mine, there is no horror in life or death that I shall not +gladly face. Dear, I ask you nothing. I am content to leave +myself in your hands. You shall advise me when the time comes, and I +shall be satisfied, content to obey. Content! It is but a poor +word to express what I long for! I shall shirk nothing which may come +to me from this or any other world, so long as it is to make you +mine!” Once again her murmured happiness was music to my +ears:</p> +<p>“Oh, how you love me! how you love me, dear, dear!” +She took me in her arms, and for a few seconds we hung together. +Suddenly she tore herself apart from me, and stood drawn up to the full +height, with a dignity I cannot describe or express. Her voice had a +new dominance, as with firm utterance and in staccato manner she said:</p> +<p>“Rupert Sent Leger, before we go a step further I must say +something to you, ask you something, and I charge you, on your most sacred +honour and belief, to answer me truly. Do you believe me to be one of +those unhappy beings who may not die, but have to live in shameful +existence between earth and the nether world, and whose hellish mission is +to destroy, body and soul, those who love them till they fall to their +level? You are a gentleman, and a brave one. I have found you +fearless. Answer me in sternest truth, no matter what the issue may +be!”</p> +<p>She stood there in the glamorous moonlight with a commanding dignity +which seemed more than human. In that mystic light her white shroud +seemed diaphanous, and she appeared like a spirit of power. What was +I to say? How could I admit to such a being that I had actually had +at moments, if not a belief, a passing doubt? It was a conviction +with me that if I spoke wrongly I should lose her for ever. I was in +a desperate strait. In such a case there is but one solid ground +which one may rest on—the Truth.</p> +<p>I really felt I was between the devil and the deep sea. There was +no avoiding the issue, and so, out of this all-embracing, all-compelling +conviction of truth, I spoke.</p> +<p>For a fleeting moment I felt that my tone was truculent, and almost +hesitated; but as I saw no anger or indignation on my Lady’s face, +but rather an eager approval, I was reassured. A woman, after all, is +glad to see a man strong, for all belief in him must be based on that.</p> +<p>“I shall speak the truth. Remember that I have no wish to +hurt your feelings, but as you conjure me by my honour, you must forgive me +if I pain. It is true that I had at first—ay, and later, when I +came to think matters over after you had gone, when reason came to the aid +of impression—a passing belief that you are a Vampire. How can +I fail to have, even now, though I love you with all my soul, though I have +held you in my arms and kissed you on the mouth, a doubt, when all the +evidences seem to point to one thing? Remember that I have only seen +you at night, except that bitter moment when, in the broad noonday of the +upper world, I saw you, clad as ever in a shroud, lying seemingly dead in a +tomb in the crypt of St. Sava’s Church . . . But let that pass. +Such belief as I have is all in you. Be you woman or Vampire, it is +all the same to me. It is <i>you</i> whom I love! Should it be +that you are—you are not woman, which I cannot believe, then it will +be my glory to break your fetters, to open your prison, and set you +free. To that I consecrate my life.” For a few seconds I +stood silent, vibrating with the passion which had been awakened in +me. She had by now lost the measure of her haughty isolation, and had +softened into womanhood again. It was really like a realization of +the old theme of Pygmalion’s statue. It was with rather a +pleading than a commanding voice that she said:</p> +<p>“And shall you always be true to me?”</p> +<p>“Always—so help me, God!” I answered, and I felt that +there could be no lack of conviction in my voice.</p> +<p>Indeed, there was no cause for such lack. She also stood for a +little while stone-still, and I was beginning to expand to the rapture +which was in store for me when she should take me again in her arms.</p> +<p>But there was no such moment of softness. All at once she started +as if she had suddenly wakened from a dream, and on the spur of the moment +said:</p> +<p>“Now go, go!” I felt the conviction of necessity to +obey, and turned at once. As I moved towards the door by which I had +entered, I asked:</p> +<p>“When shall I see you again?”</p> +<p>“Soon!” came her answer. “I shall let you know +soon—when and where. Oh, go, go!” She almost pushed +me from her.</p> +<p>When I had passed through the low doorway and locked and barred it +behind me, I felt a pang that I should have had to shut her out like that; +but I feared lest there should arise some embarrassing suspicion if the +door should be found open. Later came the comforting thought that, as +she had got to the roof though the door had been shut, she would be able to +get away by the same means. She had evidently knowledge of some +secret way into the Castle. The alternative was that she must have +some supernatural quality or faculty which gave her strange powers. I +did not wish to pursue that train of thought, and so, after an effort, shut +it out from my mind.</p> +<p>When I got back to my room I locked the door behind me, and went to +sleep in the dark. I did not want light just then—could not +bear it.</p> +<p>This morning I woke, a little later than usual, with a kind of +apprehension which I could not at once understand. Presently, +however, when my faculties became fully awake and in working order, I +realized that I feared, half expected, that Aunt Janet would come to me in +a worse state of alarm than ever apropos of some new Second-Sight +experience of more than usual ferocity.</p> +<p>But, strange to say, I had no such visit. Later on in the morning, +when, after breakfast, we walked together through the garden, I asked her +how she had slept, and if she had dreamt. She answered me that she +had slept without waking, and if she had had any dreams, they must have +been pleasant ones, for she did not remember them. “And you +know, Rupert,” she added, “that if there be anything bad or +fearsome or warning in dreams, I always remember them.”</p> +<p>Later still, when I was by myself on the cliff beyond the creek, I could +not help commenting on the absence of her power of Second Sight on the +occasion. Surely, if ever there was a time when she might have had +cause of apprehension, it might well have been when I asked the Lady whom +she did not know to marry me—the Lady of whose identity I knew +nothing, even whose name I did not know—whom I loved with all my +heart and soul—my Lady of the Shroud.</p> +<p>I have lost faith in Second Sight.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 1, 1907.</p> +<p>Another week gone. I have waited patiently, and I am at last +rewarded by another letter. I was preparing for bed a little while +ago, when I heard the same mysterious sound at the door as on the last two +occasions. I hurried to the glass door, and there found another +close-folded letter. But I could see no sign of my Lady, or of any +other living being. The letter, which was without direction, ran as +follows:</p> +<p>“If you are still of the same mind, and feel no misgivings, meet +me at the Church of St. Sava beyond the Creek to-morrow night at a quarter +before midnight. If you come, come in secret, and, of course, +alone. Do not come at all unless you are prepared for a terrible +ordeal. But if you love me, and have neither doubts nor fears, +come. Come!”</p> +<p>Needless to say, I did not sleep last night. I tried to, but +without success. It was no morbid happiness that kept me awake, no +doubting, no fear. I was simply overwhelmed with the idea of the +coming rapture when I should call my Lady my very, very own. In this +sea of happy expectation all lesser things were submerged. Even +sleep, which is an imperative force with me, failed in its usual +effectiveness, and I lay still, calm, content.</p> +<p>With the coming of the morning, however, restlessness began. I did +not know what to do, how to restrain myself, where to look for an +anodyne. Happily the latter came in the shape of Rooke, who turned up +shortly after breakfast. He had a satisfactory tale to tell me of the +armoured yacht, which had lain off Cattaro on the previous night, and to +which he had brought his contingent of crew which had waited for her +coming. He did not like to take the risk of going into any port with +such a vessel, lest he might be detained or otherwise hampered by forms, +and had gone out upon the open sea before daylight. There was on +board the yacht a tiny torpedo-boat, for which provision was made both for +hoisting on deck and housing there. This last would run into the +creek at ten o’clock that evening, at which time it would be +dark. The yacht would then run to near Otranto, to which she would +send a boat to get any message I might send. This was to be in a +code, which we arranged, and would convey instructions as to what night and +approximate hour the yacht would come to the creek.</p> +<p>The day was well on before we had made certain arrangements for the +future; and not till then did I feel again the pressure of my personal +restlessness. Rooke, like a wise commander, took rest whilst he +could. Well he knew that for a couple of days and nights at least +there would be little, if any, sleep for him.</p> +<p>For myself, the habit of self-control stood to me, and I managed to get +through the day somehow without exciting the attention of anyone +else. The arrival of the torpedo-boat and the departure of Rooke made +for me a welcome break in my uneasiness. An hour ago I said +good-night to Aunt Janet, and shut myself up alone here. My watch is +on the table before me, so that I may make sure of starting to the +moment. I have allowed myself half an hour to reach St. Sava. +My skiff is waiting, moored at the foot of the cliff on the hither side, +where the zigzag comes close to the water. It is now ten minutes past +eleven.</p> +<p>I shall add the odd five minutes to the time for my journey so as to +make safe. I go unarmed and without a light.</p> +<p>I shall show no distrust of anyone or anything this night.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 2, 1907.</p> +<p>When I was outside the church, I looked at my watch in the bright +moonlight, and found I had one minute to wait. So I stood in the +shadow of the doorway and looked out at the scene before me. Not a +sign of life was visible around me, either on land or sea. On the +broad plateau on which the church stands there was no movement of any +kind. The wind, which had been pleasant in the noontide, had fallen +completely, and not a leaf was stirring. I could see across the creek +and note the hard line where the battlements of the Castle cut the sky, and +where the keep towered above the line of black rock, which in the shadow of +the land made an ebon frame for the picture. When I had seen the same +view on former occasions, the line where the rock rose from the sea was a +fringe of white foam. But then, in the daylight, the sea was sapphire +blue; now it was an expanse of dark blue—so dark as to seem almost +black. It had not even the relief of waves or ripples—simply a +dark, cold, lifeless expanse, with no gleam of light anywhere, of +lighthouse or ship; neither was there any special sound to be heard that +one could distinguish—nothing but the distant hum of the myriad +voices of the dark mingling in one ceaseless inarticulate sound. It +was well I had not time to dwell on it, or I might have reached some +spiritually-disturbing melancholy.</p> +<p>Let me say here that ever since I had received my Lady’s message +concerning this visit to St. Sava’s I had been all on fire—not, +perhaps, at every moment consciously or actually so, but always, as it +were, prepared to break out into flame. Did I want a simile, I might +compare myself to a well-banked furnace, whose present function it is to +contain heat rather than to create it; whose crust can at any moment be +broken by a force external to itself, and burst into raging, all-compelling +heat. No thought of fear really entered my mind. Every other +emotion there was, coming and going as occasion excited or lulled, but not +fear. Well I knew in the depths of my heart the purpose which that +secret quest was to serve. I knew not only from my Lady’s +words, but from the teachings of my own senses and experiences, that some +dreadful ordeal must take place before happiness of any kind could be +won. And that ordeal, though method or detail was unknown to me, I +was prepared to undertake. This was one of those occasions when a man +must undertake, blindfold, ways that may lead to torture or death, or +unknown terrors beyond. But, then, a man—if, indeed, he have +the heart of a man—can always undertake; he can at least make the +first step, though it may turn out that through the weakness of mortality +he may be unable to fulfil his own intent, or justify his belief in his own +powers. Such, I take it, was the intellectual attitude of the brave +souls who of old faced the tortures of the Inquisition.</p> +<p>But though there was no immediate fear, there was a certain doubt. +For doubt is one of those mental conditions whose calling we cannot +control. The end of the doubting may not be a reality to us, or be +accepted as a possibility. These things cannot forego the existence +of the doubt. “For even if a man,” says Victor Cousin, +“doubt everything else, at least he cannot doubt that he +doubts.” The doubt had at times been on me that my Lady of the +Shroud was a Vampire. Much that had happened seemed to point that +way, and here, on the very threshold of the Unknown, when, through the door +which I was pushing open, my eyes met only an expanse of absolute +blackness, all doubts which had ever been seemed to surround me in a +legion. I have heard that, when a man is drowning, there comes a time +when his whole life passes in review during the space of time which cannot +be computed as even a part of a second. So it was to me in the moment +of my body passing into the church. In that moment came to my mind +all that had been, which bore on the knowledge of my Lady; and the general +tendency was to prove or convince that she was indeed a Vampire. Much +that had happened, or become known to me, seemed to justify the resolving +of doubt into belief. Even my own reading of the books in Aunt +Janet’s little library, and the dear lady’s comments on them, +mingled with her own uncanny beliefs, left little opening for doubt. +My having to help my Lady over the threshold of my house on her first entry +was in accord with Vampire tradition; so, too, her flying at cock-crow from +the warmth in which she revelled on that strange first night of our +meeting; so, too, her swift departure at midnight on the second. Into +the same category came the facts of her constant wearing of her Shroud, +even her pledging herself, and me also, on the fragment torn from it, which +she had given to me as a souvenir; her lying still in the glass-covered +tomb; her coming alone to the most secret places in a fortified Castle +where every aperture was secured by unopened locks and bolts; her very +movements, though all of grace, as she flitted noiselessly through the +gloom of night.</p> +<p>All these things, and a thousand others of lesser import, seemed, for +the moment, to have consolidated an initial belief. But then came the +supreme recollections of how she had lain in my arms; of her kisses on my +lips; of the beating of her heart against my own; of her sweet words of +belief and faith breathed in my ear in intoxicating whispers; of . . . I +paused. No! I could not accept belief as to her being other +than a living woman of soul and sense, of flesh and blood, of all the sweet +and passionate instincts of true and perfect womanhood.</p> +<p>And so, in spite of all—in spite of all beliefs, fixed or +transitory, with a mind whirling amid contesting forces and compelling +beliefs—I stepped into the church overwhelmed with that most +receptive of atmospheres—doubt.</p> +<p>In one thing only was I fixed: here at least was no doubt or misgiving +whatever. I intended to go through what I had undertaken. +Moreover, I felt that I was strong enough to carry out my intention, +whatever might be of the Unknown—however horrible, however +terrible.</p> +<p>When I had entered the church and closed the heavy door behind me, the +sense of darkness and loneliness in all their horror enfolded me +round. The great church seemed a living mystery, and served as an +almost terrible background to thoughts and remembrances of unutterable +gloom. My adventurous life has had its own schooling to endurance and +upholding one’s courage in trying times; but it has its contra in +fulness of memory.</p> +<p>I felt my way forward with both hands and feet. Every second +seemed as if it had brought me at last to a darkness which was actually +tangible. All at once, and with no heed of sequence or order, I was +conscious of all around me, the knowledge or perception of which—or +even speculation on the subject—had never entered my mind. They +furnished the darkness with which I was encompassed with all the crowded +phases of a dream. I knew that all around me were memorials of the +dead—that in the Crypt deep-wrought in the rock below my feet lay the +dead themselves. Some of them, perhaps—one of them I +knew—had even passed the grim portals of time Unknown, and had, by +some mysterious power or agency, come back again to material earth. +There was no resting-place for thought when I knew that the very air which +I breathed might be full of denizens of the spirit-world. In that +impenetrable blackness was a world of imagining whose possibilities of +horror were endless.</p> +<p>I almost fancied that I could see with mortal eyes down through that +rocky floor to where, in the lonely Crypt, lay, in her tomb of massive +stone and under that bewildering coverlet of glass, the woman whom I +love. I could see her beautiful face, her long black lashes, her +sweet mouth—which I had kissed—relaxed in the sleep of +death. I could note the voluminous shroud—a piece of which as a +precious souvenir lay even then so close to my heart—the snowy +woollen coverlet wrought over in gold with sprigs of pine, the soft dent in +the cushion on which her head must for so long have lain. I could see +myself—within my eyes the memory of that first visit—coming +once again with glad step to renew that dear sight—dear, though it +scorched my eyes and harrowed my heart—and finding the greater +sorrow, the greater desolation of the empty tomb!</p> +<p>There! I felt that I must think no more of that lest the thought +should unnerve me when I should most want all my courage. That way +madness lay! The darkness had already sufficient terrors of its own +without bringing to it such grim remembrances and imaginings . . . And I +had yet to go through some ordeal which, even to her who had passed and +repassed the portals of death, was full of fear.</p> +<p>It was a merciful relief to me when, in groping my way forwards through +the darkness, I struck against some portion of the furnishing of the +church. Fortunately I was all strung up to tension, else I should +never have been able to control instinctively, as I did, the shriek which +was rising to my lips.</p> +<p>I would have given anything to have been able to light even a +match. A single second of light would, I felt, have made me my own +man again. But I knew that this would be against the implied +condition of my being there at all, and might have had disastrous +consequences to her whom I had come to save. It might even frustrate +my scheme, and altogether destroy my opportunity. At that moment it +was borne upon me more strongly than ever that this was not a mere fight +for myself or my own selfish purposes—not merely an adventure or a +struggle for only life and death against unknown difficulties and +dangers. It was a fight on behalf of her I loved, not merely for her +life, but perhaps even for her soul.</p> +<p>And yet this very thinking—understanding—created a new form +of terror. For in that grim, shrouding darkness came memories of +other moments of terrible stress.</p> +<p>Of wild, mystic rites held in the deep gloom of African forests, when, +amid scenes of revolting horror, Obi and the devils of his kind seemed to +reveal themselves to reckless worshippers, surfeited with horror, whose +lives counted for naught; when even human sacrifice was an episode, and the +reek of old deviltries and recent carnage tainted the air, till even I, who +was, at the risk of my life, a privileged spectator who had come through +dangers without end to behold the scene, rose and fled in horror.</p> +<p>Of scenes of mystery enacted in rock-cut temples beyond the Himalayas, +whose fanatic priests, cold as death and as remorseless, in the reaction of +their phrenzy of passion, foamed at the mouth and then sank into marble +quiet, as with inner eyes they beheld the visions of the hellish powers +which they had invoked.</p> +<p>Of wild, fantastic dances of the Devil-worshippers of Madagascar, where +even the very semblance of humanity disappeared in the fantastic excesses +of their orgies.</p> +<p>Of strange doings of gloom and mystery in the rock-perched monasteries +of Thibet.</p> +<p>Of awful sacrifices, all to mystic ends, in the innermost recesses of +Cathay.</p> +<p>Of weird movements with masses of poisonous snakes by the medicine-men +of the Zuni and Mochi Indians in the far south-west of the Rockies, beyond +the great plains.</p> +<p>Of secret gatherings in vast temples of old Mexico, and by dim altars of +forgotten cities in the heart of great forests in South America.</p> +<p>Of rites of inconceivable horror in the fastnesses of Patagonia.</p> +<p>Of . . . Here I once more pulled myself up. Such thoughts were no +kind of proper preparation for what I might have to endure. My work +that night was to be based on love, on hope, on self-sacrifice for the +woman who in all the world was the closest to my heart, whose future I was +to share, whether that sharing might lead me to Hell or Heaven. The +hand which undertook such a task must have no trembling.</p> +<p>Still, those horrible memories had, I am bound to say, a useful part in +my preparation for the ordeal. They were of fact which I had seen, of +which I had myself been in part a sharer, and which I had survived. +With such experiences behind me, could there be aught before me more +dreadful? . . .</p> +<p>Moreover, if the coming ordeal was of supernatural or superhuman order, +could it transcend in living horror the vilest and most desperate acts of +the basest men? . . .</p> +<p>With renewed courage I felt my way before me, till my sense of touch +told me that I was at the screen behind which lay the stair to the +Crypt.</p> +<p>There I waited, silent, still.</p> +<p>My own part was done, so far as I knew how to do it. Beyond this, +what was to come was, so far as I knew, beyond my own control. I had +done what I could; the rest must come from others. I had exactly +obeyed my instructions, fulfilled my warranty to the utmost in my knowledge +and power. There was, therefore, left for me in the present nothing +but to wait.</p> +<p>It is a peculiarity of absolute darkness that it creates its own +reaction. The eye, wearied of the blackness, begins to imagine forms +of light. How far this is effected by imagination pure and simple I +know not. It may be that nerves have their own senses that bring +thought to the depository common to all the human functions, but, whatever +may be the mechanism or the objective, the darkness seems to people itself +with luminous entities.</p> +<p>So was it with me as I stood lonely in the dark, silent church. +Here and there seemed to flash tiny points of light.</p> +<p>In the same way the silence began to be broken now and again by strange +muffled sounds—the suggestion of sounds rather than actual +vibrations. These were all at first of the minor importance of +movement—rustlings, creakings, faint stirrings, fainter +breathings. Presently, when I had somewhat recovered from the sort of +hypnotic trance to which the darkness and stillness had during the time of +waiting reduced me, I looked around in wonder.</p> +<p>The phantoms of light and sound seemed to have become real. There +were most certainly actual little points of light in places—not +enough to see details by, but quite sufficient to relieve the utter +gloom. I thought—though it may have been a mingling of +recollection and imagination—that I could distinguish the outlines of +the church; certainly the great altar-screen was dimly visible. +Instinctively I looked up—and thrilled. There, hung high above +me, was, surely enough, a great Greek Cross, outlined by tiny points of +light.</p> +<p>I lost myself in wonder, and stood still, in a purely receptive mood, +unantagonistic to aught, willing for whatever might come, ready for all +things, in rather a negative than a positive mood—a mood which has an +aspect of spiritual meekness. This is the true spirit of the +neophyte, and, though I did not think of it at the time, the proper +attitude for what is called by the Church in whose temple I stood a +“neo-nymph.”</p> +<p>As the light grew a little in power, though never increasing enough for +distinctness, I saw dimly before me a table on which rested a great open +book, whereon were laid two rings—one of sliver, the other of +gold—and two crowns wrought of flowers, bound at the joining of their +stems with tissue—one of gold, the other of silver. I do not +know much of the ritual of the old Greek Church, which is the religion of +the Blue Mountains, but the things which I saw before me could be none +other than enlightening symbols. Instinctively I knew that I had been +brought hither, though in this grim way, to be married. The very idea +of it thrilled me to the heart’s core. I thought the best thing +I could do would be to stay quite still, and not show surprise at anything +that might happen; but be sure I was all eyes and ears.</p> +<p>I peered anxiously around me in every direction, but I could see no sign +of her whom I had come to meet.</p> +<p>Incidentally, however, I noticed that in the lighting, such as it was, +there was no flame, no “living” light. Whatever light +there was came muffled, as though through some green translucent +stone. The whole effect was terribly weird and disconcerting.</p> +<p>Presently I started, as, seemingly out of the darkness beside me, a +man’s hand stretched out and took mine. Turning, I found close +to me a tall man with shining black eyes and long black hair and +beard. He was clad in some kind of gorgeous robe of cloth of gold, +rich with variety of adornment. His head was covered with a high, +over-hanging hat draped closely with a black scarf, the ends of which +formed a long, hanging veil on either side. These veils, falling over +the magnificent robes of cloth of gold, had an extraordinarily solemn +effect.</p> +<p>I yielded myself to the guiding hand, and shortly found myself, so far +as I could see, at one side of the sanctuary.</p> +<p>In the floor close to my feet was a yawning chasm, into which, from so +high over my head that in the uncertain light I could not distinguish its +origin, hung a chain. At the sight a strange wave of memory swept +over me. I could not but remember the chain which hung over the +glass-covered tomb in the Crypt, and I had an instinctive feeling that the +grim chasm in the floor of the sanctuary was but the other side of the +opening in the roof of the crypt from which the chain over the sarcophagus +depended.</p> +<p>There was a creaking sound—the groaning of a windlass and the +clanking of a chain. There was heavy breathing close to me +somewhere. I was so intent on what was going on that I did not see +that one by one, seeming to grow out of the surrounding darkness, several +black figures in monkish garb appeared with the silence of ghosts. +Their faces were shrouded in black cowls, wherein were holes through which +I could see dark gleaming eyes. My guide held me tightly by the +hand. This gave me a feeling of security in the touch which helped to +retain within my breast some semblance of calm.</p> +<p>The strain of the creaking windlass and the clanking chain continued for +so long that the suspense became almost unendurable. At last there +came into sight an iron ring, from which as a centre depended four lesser +chains spreading wide. In a few seconds more I could see that these +were fixed to the corners of the great stone tomb with the covering of +glass, which was being dragged upward. As it arose it filled closely +the whole aperture. When its bottom had reached the level of the +floor it stopped, and remained rigid. There was no room for +oscillation. It was at once surrounded by a number of black figures, +who raised the glass covering and bore it away into the darkness. +Then there stepped forward a very tall man, black-bearded, and with +head-gear like my guide, but made in triple tiers, he also was gorgeously +arrayed in flowing robes of cloth of gold richly embroidered. He +raised his hand, and forthwith eight other black-clad figures stepped +forward, and bending over the stone coffin, raised from it the rigid form +of my Lady, still clad in her Shroud, and laid it gently on the floor of +the sanctuary.</p> +<p>I felt it a grace that at that instant the dim lights seemed to grow +less, and finally to disappear—all save the tiny points that marked +the outline of the great Cross high overhead. These only gave light +enough to accentuate the gloom. The hand that held mine now released +it, and with a sigh I realized that I was alone. After a few moments +more of the groaning of the winch and clanking of the chain there was a +sharp sound of stone meeting stone; then there was silence. I +listened acutely, but could not hear near me the slightest sound. +Even the cautious, restrained breathing around me, of which up to then I +had been conscious, had ceased. Not knowing, in the helplessness of +my ignorance, what I should do, I remained as I was, still and silent, for +a time that seemed endless. At last, overcome by some emotion which I +could not at the moment understand, I slowly sank to my knees and bowed my +head. Covering my face with my hands, I tried to recall the prayers +of my youth. It was not, I am certain, that fear in any form had come +upon me, or that I hesitated or faltered in my intention. That much I +know now; I knew it even then. It was, I believe, that the prolonged +impressive gloom and mystery had at last touched me to the quick. The +bending of the knees was but symbolical of the bowing of the spirit to a +higher Power. When I had realized that much, I felt more content than +I had done since I had entered the church, and with the renewed +consciousness of courage, took my hands from my face, and lifted again my +bowed head.</p> +<p>Impulsively I sprang to my feet and stood erect—waiting. All +seemed to have changed since I had dropped on my knees. The points of +light about time church, which had been eclipsed, had come again, and were +growing in power to a partial revealing of the dim expanse. Before me +was the table with the open book, on which were laid the gold and silver +rings and the two crowns of flowers. There were also two tall +candles, with tiniest flames of blue—the only living light to be +seen.</p> +<p>Out of the darkness stepped the same tall figure in the gorgeous robes +and the triple hat. He led by the hand my Lady, still clad in her +Shroud; but over it, descending from the crown of her head, was a veil of +very old and magnificent lace of astonishing fineness. Even in that +dim light I could note the exquisite beauty of the fabric. The veil +was fastened with a bunch of tiny sprays of orange-blossom mingled with +cypress and laurel—a strange combination. In her hand she +carried a great bouquet of the same. Its sweet intoxicating odour +floated up to my nostrils. It and the sentiment which its very +presence evoked made me quiver.</p> +<p>Yielding to the guiding of the hand which held hers, she stood at my +left side before the table. Her guide then took his place behind +her. At either end of the table, to right and left of us, stood a +long-bearded priest in splendid robes, and wearing the hat with depending +veil of black. One of them, who seemed to be the more important of +the two, and took the initiative, signed to us to put our right hands on +the open book. My Lady, of course, understood the ritual, and knew +the words which the priest was speaking, and of her own accord put out her +hand. My guide at the same moment directed my hand to the same +end. It thrilled me to touch my Lady’s hand, even under such +mysterious conditions.</p> +<p>After the priest had signed us each thrice on the forehead with the sign +of the Cross, he gave to each of us a tiny lighted taper brought to him for +the purpose. The lights were welcome, not so much for the solace of +the added light, great as that was, but because it allowed us to see a +little more of each other’s faces. It was rapture to me to see +the face of my Bride; and from the expression of her face I was assured +that she felt as I did. It gave me an inexpressible pleasure when, as +her eyes rested on me, there grew a faint blush over the grey pallor of her +cheeks.</p> +<p>The priest then put in solemn voice to each of us in turn, beginning +with me, the questions of consent which are common to all such +rituals. I answered as well as I could, following the murmured words +of my guide. My Lady answered out proudly in a voice which, though +given softly, seemed to ring. It was a concern—even a +grief—to me that I could not, in the priest’s questioning, +catch her name, of which, strangely enough,—I was ignorant. +But, as I did not know the language, and as the phrases were not in accord +literally with our own ritual, I could not make out which word was the +name.</p> +<p>After some prayers and blessings, rhythmically spoken or sung by an +invisible choir, the priest took the rings from the open book, and, after +signing my forehead thrice with the gold one as he repeated the blessing in +each case, placed it on my right hand; then he gave my Lady the silver one, +with the same ritual thrice repeated. I suppose it was the blessing +which is the effective point in making two into one.</p> +<p>After this, those who stood behind us exchanged our rings thrice, taking +them from one finger and placing them on the other, so that at the end my +wife wore the gold ring and I the silver one.</p> +<p>Then came a chant, during which the priest swung the censer himself, and +my wife and I held our tapers. After that he blessed us, the +responses coming from the voices of the unseen singers in the darkness.</p> +<p>After a long ritual of prayer and blessing, sung in triplicate, the +priest took the crowns of flowers, and put one on the head of each, +crowning me first, and with the crown tied with gold. Then he signed +and blessed us each thrice. The guides, who stood behind us, +exchanged our crowns thrice, as they had exchanged the rings; so that at +the last, as I was glad to see, my wife wore the crown of gold, and I that +of silver.</p> +<p>Then there came, if it is possible to describe such a thing, a hush over +even that stillness, as though some form of added solemnity were to be gone +through. I was not surprised, therefore, when the priest took in his +hands the great golden chalice. Kneeling, my wife and I partook +together thrice.</p> +<p>When we had risen from our knees and stood for a little while, the +priest took my left hand in his right, and I, by direction of my guide, +gave my right hand to my wife. And so in a line, the priest leading, +we circled round the table in rhythmic measure. Those who supported +us moved behind us, holding the crowns over our heads, and replacing them +when we stopped.</p> +<p>After a hymn, sung through the darkness, the priest took off our +crowns. This was evidently the conclusion of the ritual, for the +priest placed us in each other’s arms to embrace each other. +Then he blessed us, who were now man and wife!</p> +<p>The lights went out at once, some as if extinguished, others slowly +fading down to blackness.</p> +<p>Left in the dark, my wife and I sought each other’s arms again, +and stood together for a few moments heart to heart, tightly clasping each +other, and kissed each other fervently.</p> +<p>Instinctively we turned to the door of the church, which was slightly +open, so that we could see the moonlight stealing in through the +aperture. With even steps, she holding me tightly by the left +arm—which is the wife’s arm, we passed through the old church +and out into the free air.</p> +<p>Despite all that the gloom had brought me, it was sweet to be in the +open air and together—this quite apart from our new relations to each +other. The moon rode high, and the full light, coming after the +dimness or darkness in the church, seemed as bright as day. I could +now, for the first time, see my wife’s face properly. The +glamour of the moonlight may have served to enhance its ethereal beauty, +but neither moonlight nor sunlight could do justice to that beauty in its +living human splendour. As I gloried in her starry eyes I could think +of nothing else; but when for a moment my eyes, roving round for the +purpose of protection, caught sight of her whole figure, there was a pang +to my heart. The brilliant moonlight showed every detail in terrible +effect, and I could see that she wore only her Shroud. In the moment +of darkness, after the last benediction, before she returned to my arms, +she must have removed her bridal veil. This may, of course, have been +in accordance with the established ritual of her church; but, all the same, +my heart was sore. The glamour of calling her my very own was +somewhat obscured by the bridal adornment being shorn. But it made no +difference in her sweetness to me. Together we went along the path +through the wood, she keeping equal step with me in wifely way.</p> +<p>When we had come through the trees near enough to see the roof of the +Castle, now gilded with the moonlight, she stopped, and looking at me with +eyes full of love, said:</p> +<p>“Here I must leave you!”</p> +<p>“What?” I was all aghast, and I felt that my chagrin +was expressed in the tone of horrified surprise in my voice. She went +on quickly:</p> +<p>“Alas! It is impossible that I should go farther—at +present!”</p> +<p>“But what is to prevent you?” I queried. “You +are now my wife. This is our wedding-night; and surely your place is +with me!” The wail in her voice as she answered touched me to +the quick:</p> +<p>“Oh, I know, I know! There is no dearer wish in my +heart—there can be none—than to share my husband’s +home. Oh, my dear, my dear, if you only knew what it would be to me +to be with you always! But indeed I may not—not yet! I am +not free! If you but knew how much that which has happened to-night +has cost me—or how much cost to others as well as to myself may be +yet to come—you would understand. Rupert”—it was +the first time she had ever addressed me by name, and naturally it thrilled +me through and through—“Rupert, my husband, only that I trust +you with all the faith which is in perfect love—mutual love, I dare +not have done what I have done this night. But, dear, I know that you +will bear me out; that your wife’s honour is your honour, even as +your honour is mine. My honour is given to this; and you can help +me—the only help I can have at present—by trusting me. Be +patient, my beloved, be patient! Oh, be patient for a little +longer! It shall not be for long. So soon as ever my soul is +freed I shall come to you, my husband; and we shall never part again. +Be content for a while! Believe me that I love you with my very soul; +and to keep away from your dear side is more bitter for me than even it can +be for you! Think, my dear one, I am not as other women are, as some +day you shall clearly understand. I am at the present, and shall be +for a little longer, constrained by duties and obligations put upon me by +others, and for others, and to which I am pledged by the most sacred +promises—given not only by myself, but by others—and which I +must not forgo. These forbid me to do as I wish. Oh, trust me, +my beloved—my husband!”</p> +<p>She held out her hands appealingly. The moonlight, falling through +the thinning forest, showed her white cerements. Then the +recollection of all she must have suffered—the awful loneliness in +that grim tomb in the Crypt, the despairing agony of one who is helpless +against the unknown—swept over me in a wave of pity. What could +I do but save her from further pain? And this could only be by +showing her my faith and trust. If she was to go back to that +dreadful charnel-house, she would at least take with her the remembrance +that one who loved her and whom she loved—to whom she had been lately +bound in the mystery of marriage—trusted her to the full. I +loved her more than myself—more than my own soul; and I was moved by +pity so great that all possible selfishness was merged in its depths. +I bowed my head before her—my Lady and my Wife—as I said:</p> +<p>“So be it, my beloved. I trust you to the full, even as you +trust me. And that has been proven this night, even to my own +doubting heart. I shall wait; and as I know you wish it, I shall wait +as patiently as I can. But till you come to me for good and all, let +me see you or hear from you when you can. The time, dear wife, must +go heavily with me as I think of you suffering and lonely. So be good +to me, and let not too long a time elapse between my glimpses of +hope. And, sweetheart, when you <i>do</i> come to me, it shall be for +ever!” There was something in the intonation of the last +sentence—I felt its sincerity myself—some implied yearning for +a promise, that made her beautiful eyes swim. The glorious stars in +them were blurred as she answered with a fervour which seemed to me as more +than earthly:</p> +<p>“For ever! I swear it!”</p> +<p>With one long kiss, and a straining in each others arms, which left me +tingling for long after we had lost sight of each other, we parted. I +stood and watched her as her white figure, gliding through the deepening +gloom, faded as the forest thickened. It surely was no optical +delusion or a phantom of the mind that her shrouded arm was raised as +though in blessing or farewell before the darkness swallowed her up.</p> +<h2>BOOK VI: THE PURSUIT IN THE FOREST</h2> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 3, 1907.</p> +<p>There is no anodyne but work to pain of the heart; and my pain is all of +the heart. I sometimes feel that it is rather hard that with so much +to make me happy I cannot know happiness. How can I be happy when my +wife, whom I fondly love, and who I know loves me, is suffering in horror +and loneliness of a kind which is almost beyond human belief? +However, what is my loss is my country’s gain, for the Land of the +Blue Mountains is my country now, despite the fact that I am still a loyal +subject of good King Edward. Uncle Roger took care of that when he +said I should have the consent of the Privy Council before I might be +naturalized anywhere else.</p> +<p>When I got home yesterday morning I naturally could not sleep. The +events of the night and the bitter disappointment that followed my exciting +joy made such a thing impossible. When I drew the curtain over the +window, the reflection of the sunrise was just beginning to tinge the +high-sailing clouds in front of me. I laid down and tried to rest, +but without avail. However, I schooled myself to lie still, and at +last, if I did not sleep, was at least quiescent.</p> +<p>Disturbed by a gentle tap at the door, I sprang up at once and threw on +a dressing gown. Outside, when I opened the door, was Aunt +Janet. She was holding a lighted candle in her hand, for though it +was getting light in the open, the passages were still dark. When she +saw me she seemed to breathe more freely, and asked if she might come +in.</p> +<p>Whilst she sat on the edge of my bed, in her old-time way, she said in a +hushed voice:</p> +<p>“Oh, laddie, laddie, I trust yer burden is no too heavy to +bear.”</p> +<p>“My burden! What on earth do you mean, Aunt Janet?” I +said in reply. I did not wish to commit myself by a definite answer, +for it was evident that she had been dreaming or Second Sighting +again. She replied with the grim seriousness usual to her when she +touched on occult matters:</p> +<p>“I saw your hairt bleeding, laddie. I kent it was yours, +though how I kent it I don’t know. It lay on a stone floor in +the dark, save for a dim blue light such as corpse-lights are. On it +was placed a great book, and close around were scattered many strange +things, amongst them two crowns o’ flowers—the one bound +wi’ silver, the other wi’ gold. There was also a golden +cup, like a chalice, o’erturned. The red wine trickled from it +an’ mingled wi’ yer hairt’s bluid; for on the great book +was some vast dim weight wrapped up in black, and on it stepped in turn +many men all swathed in black. An’ as the weight of each came +on it the bluid gushed out afresh. And oh, yer puir hairt, my laddie, +was quick and leaping, so that at every beat it raised the black-clad +weight! An’ yet that was not all, for hard by stood a tall +imperial shape o’ a woman, all arrayed in white, wi’ a great +veil o’ finest lace worn o’er a shrood. An’ she was +whiter than the snow, an’ fairer than the morn for beauty; though a +dark woman she was, wi’ hair like the raven, an’ eyes black as +the sea at nicht, an’ there was stars in them. An’ at +each beat o’ yer puir bleeding hairt she wrung her white hands, +an’ the manin’ o’ her sweet voice rent my hairt in +twain. Oh, laddie, laddie! what does it mean?”</p> +<p>I managed to murmur: “I’m sure I don’t know, Aunt +Janet. I suppose it was all a dream!”</p> +<p>“A dream it was, my dear. A dream or a veesion, whilka +matters nane, for a’ such are warnin’s sent frae God . . . +” Suddenly she said in a different voice:</p> +<p>“Laddie, hae ye been fause to any lassie? I’m no +blamin’ ye. For ye men are different frae us women, an’ +yer regard on recht and wrang differs from oors. But oh, laddie, a +woman’s tears fa’ heavy when her hairt is for sair wi’ +the yieldin’ to fause words. ’Tis a heavy burden for ony +man to carry wi’ him as he goes, an’ may well cause pain to +ithers that he fain would spare.” She stopped, and in dead +silence waited for me to speak. I thought it would be best to set her +poor loving heart at rest, and as I could not divulge my special secret, +spoke in general terms:</p> +<p>“Aunt Janet, I am a man, and have led a man’s life, such as +it is. But I can tell you, who have always loved me and taught me to +be true, that in all the world there is no woman who must weep for any +falsity of mine. If close there be any who, sleeping or waking, in +dreams or visions or in reality, weeps because of me, it is surely not for +my doing, but because of something outside me. It may be that her +heart is sore because I must suffer, as all men must in some degree; but +she does not weep for or through any act of mine.”</p> +<p>She sighed happily at my assurance, and looked up through her tears, for +she was much moved; and after tenderly kissing my forehead and blessing me, +stole away. She was more sweet and tender than I have words to say, +and the only regret that I have in all that is gone is that I have not been +able to bring my wife to her, and let her share in the love she has for +me. But that, too, will come, please God!</p> +<p>In the morning I sent a message to Rooke at Otranto, instructing him by +code to bring the yacht to Vissarion in the coming night.</p> +<p>All day I spent in going about amongst the mountaineers, drilling them +and looking after their arms. I <i>could</i> not stay still. My +only chance of peace was to work, my only chance of sleep to tire myself +out. Unhappily, I am very strong, so even when I came home at dark I +was quite fresh. However, I found a cable message from Rooke that the +yacht would arrive at midnight.</p> +<p>There was no need to summon the mountaineers, as the men in the Castle +would be sufficient to make preparations for the yacht’s coming.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Later</i>.</p> +<p>The yacht has come. At half-past eleven the lookout signalled that +a steamer without lights was creeping in towards the Creek. I ran out +to the Flagstaff, and saw her steal in like a ghost. She is painted a +steely blue-grey, and it is almost impossible to see her at any +distance. She certainly goes wonderfully. Although there was +not enough throb from the engines to mar the absolute stillness, she came +on at a fine speed, and within a few minutes was close to the boom. I +had only time to run down to give orders to draw back the boom when she +glided in and stopped dead at the harbour wall. Rooke steered her +himself, and he says he never was on a boat that so well or so quickly +answered her helm. She is certainly a beauty, and so far as I can see +at night perfect in every detail. I promise myself a few pleasant +hours over her in the daylight. The men seem a splendid lot.</p> +<p>But I do not feel sleepy; I despair of sleep to-night. But work +demands that I be fit for whatever may come, and so I shall try to +sleep—to rest, at any rate.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL.—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 4, 1907.</p> +<p>I was up with the first ray of sunrise, so by the time I had my bath and +was dressed there was ample light. I went down to the dock at once, +and spent the morning looking over the vessel, which fully justifies +Rooke’s enthusiasm about her. She is built on lovely lines, and +I can quite understand that she is enormously fast. Her armour I can +only take on the specifications, but her armament is really +wonderful. And there are not only all the very newest devices of +aggressive warfare—indeed, she has the newest up-to-date torpedoes +and torpedo-guns—but also the old-fashioned rocket-tubes, which in +certain occasions are so useful. She has electric guns and the latest +Massillon water-guns, and Reinhardt electro-pneumatic +“deliverers” for pyroxiline shells. She is even equipped +with war-balloons easy of expansion, and with compressible Kitson +aeroplanes. I don’t suppose that there is anything quite like +her in the world.</p> +<p>The crew are worthy of her. I can’t imagine where Rooke +picked up such a splendid lot of men. They are nearly all +man-of-warsmen; of various nationalities, but mostly British. All +young men—the oldest of them hasn’t got into the +forties—and, so far as I can learn, all experts of one kind or +another in some special subject of warfare. It will go hard with me, +but I shall keep them together.</p> +<p>How I got through the rest of the day I know not. I tried hard not +to create any domestic trouble by my manner, lest Aunt Janet should, after +her lurid dream or vision of last night, attach some new importance to +it. I think I succeeded, for she did not, so far as I could tell, +take any special notice of me. We parted as usual at half-past ten, +and I came here and made this entry in my journal. I am more restless +than ever to-night, and no wonder. I would give anything to be able +to pay a visit to St. Sava’s, and see my wife again—if it were +only sleeping in her tomb. But I dare not do even that, lest she +should come to see me here, and I should miss her. So I have done +what I can. The glass door to the Terrace is open, so that she can +enter at once if she comes. The fire is lit, and the room is +warm. There is food ready in case she should care for it. I +have plenty of light in the room, so that through the aperture where I have +not fully drawn the curtain there may be light to guide her.</p> +<p>Oh, how the time drags! The clock has struck midnight. One, +two! Thank goodness, it will shortly be dawn, and the activity of the +day may begin! Work may again prove, in a way, to be an +anodyne. In the meantime I must write on, lest despair overwhelm +me.</p> +<p>Once during the night I thought I heard a footstep outside. I +rushed to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to see, no sound +to hear. That was a little after one o’clock. I feared to +go outside, lest that should alarm her; so I came back to my table. I +could not write, but I sat as if writing for a while. But I could not +stand it, so rose and walked about the room. As I walked I felt that +my Lady—it gives me a pang every time I remember that I do not know +even her name—was not quite so far away from me. It made my +heart beat to think that it might mean that she was coming to me. +Could not I as well as Aunt Janet have a little Second Sight! I went +towards the window, and, standing behind the curtain, listened. Far +away I thought I heard a cry, and ran out on the Terrace; but there was no +sound to be heard, and no sign of any living thing anywhere; so I took it +for granted that it was the cry of some night bird, and came back to my +room, and wrote at my journal till I was calm. I think my nerves must +be getting out of order, when every sound of the night seems to have a +special meaning for me.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 7, 1907</p> +<p>When the grey of the morning came, I gave up hope of my wife appearing, +and made up my mind that, so soon as I could get away without exciting Aunt +Janet’s attention, I would go to St. Sava’s. I always eat +a good breakfast, and did I forgo it altogether, it would be sure to excite +her curiosity—a thing I do not wish at present. As there was +still time to wait, I lay down on my bed as I was, and—such is the +way of Fate—shortly fell asleep.</p> +<p>I was awakened by a terrific clattering at my door. When I opened +it I found a little group of servants, very apologetic at awaking me +without instructions. The chief of them explained that a young priest +had come from the Vladika with a message so urgent that he insisted on +seeing me immediately at all hazards. I came out at once, and found +him in the hall of the Castle, standing before the great fire, which was +always lit in the early morning. He had a letter in his hand, but +before giving it to me he said:</p> +<p>“I am sent by the Vladika, who pressed on me that I was not to +lose a single instant in seeing you; that time is of golden +price—nay, beyond price. This letter, amongst other things, +vouches for me. A terrible misfortune has occurred. The +daughter of our leader has disappeared during last night—the same, he +commanded me to remind you, that he spoke of at the meeting when he would +not let the mountaineers fire their guns. No sign of her can be +found, and it is believed that she has been carried off by the emissaries +of the Sultan of Turkey, who once before brought our nations to the verge +of war by demanding her as a wife. I was also to say that the Vladika +Plamenac would have come himself, but that it was necessary that he should +at once consult with the Archbishop, Stevan Palealogue, as to what step is +best to take in this dire calamity. He has sent out a search-party +under the Archimandrite of Spazac, Petrof Vlastimir, who is to come on here +with any news he can get, as you have command of the signalling, and can +best spread the news. He knows that you, Gospodar, are in your great +heart one of our compatriots, and that you have already proved your +friendship by many efforts to strengthen our hands for war. And as a +great compatriot, he calls on you to aid us in our need.” He +then handed me the letter, and stood by respectfully whilst I broke the +seal and read it. It was written in great haste, and signed by the +Vladika.</p> +<p>“Come with us now in our nation’s peril. Help us to +rescue what we most adore, and henceforth we shall hold you in our +hearts. You shall learn how the men of the Blue Mountains can love +faith and valour. Come!”</p> +<p>This was a task indeed—a duty worthy of any man. It thrilled +me to the core to know that the men of the Blue Mountains had called on me +in their dire need. It woke all the fighting instinct of my Viking +forbears, and I vowed in my heart that they should be satisfied with my +work. I called to me the corps of signallers who were in the house, +and led them to the Castle roof, taking with me the young +messenger-priest.</p> +<p>“Come with me,” I said to him, “and see how I answer +the Vladika’s command.”</p> +<p>The National flag was run up—the established signal that the +nation was in need. Instantly on every summit near and far was seen +the flutter of an answering flag. Quickly followed the signal that +commanded the call to arms.</p> +<p>One by one I gave the signallers orders in quick succession, for the +plan of search unfolded itself to me as I went on. The arms of the +semaphore whirled in a way that made the young priest stare. One by +one, as they took their orders, the signallers seemed to catch fire. +Instinctively they understood the plan, and worked like demigods. +They knew that so widespread a movement had its best chance in rapidity and +in unity of action.</p> +<p>From the forest which lay in sight of the Castle came a wild cheering, +which seemed to interpret the former stillness of the hills. It was +good to feel that those who saw the signals—types of many—were +ready. I saw the look of expectation on the face of the +messenger-priest, and rejoiced at the glow that came as I turned to him to +speak. Of course, he wanted to know something of what was going +on. I saw the flashing of my own eyes reflected in his as I +spoke:</p> +<p>“Tell the Vladika that within a minute of his message being read +the Land of the Blue Mountains was awake. The mountaineers are +already marching, and before the sun is high there will be a line of guards +within hail of each other round the whole frontier—from Angusa to +Ilsin; from Ilsin to Bajana; from Bajana to Ispazar; from Ispazar to Volok; +from Volok to Tatra; from Tatra to Domitan; from Domitan to Gravaja; and +from Gravaja back to Angusa. The line is double. The old men +keep guard on the line, and the young men advance. These will close +in at the advancing line, so that nothing can escape them. They will +cover mountain-top and forest depth, and will close in finally on the +Castle here, which they can behold from afar. My own yacht is here, +and will sweep the coast from end to end. It is the fastest boat +afloat, and armed against a squadron. Here will all signals +come. In an hour where we stand will be a signal bureau, where +trained eyes will watch night and day till the lost one has been found and +the outrage has been avenged. The robbers are even now within a ring +of steel, and cannot escape.”</p> +<p>The young priest, all on fire, sprang on the battlements and shouted to +the crowd, which was massing round the Castle in the gardens far +below. The forest was giving up its units till they seemed like the +nucleus of an army. The men cheered lustily, till the sound swung +high up to us like the roaring of a winter sea. With bared heads they +were crying:</p> +<p>“God and the Blue Mountains! God and the Blue +Mountains!”</p> +<p>I ran down to them as quickly as I could, and began to issue their +instructions. Within a time to be computed by minutes the whole +number, organized by sections, had started to scour the neighbouring +mountains. At first they had only understood the call to arms for +general safety. But when they learned that the daughter of a chief +had been captured, they simply went mad. From something which the +messenger first said, but which I could not catch or did not understand, +the blow seemed to have for them some sort of personal significance which +wrought them to a frenzy.</p> +<p>When the bulk of the men had disappeared, I took with me a few of my own +men and several of the mountaineers whom I had asked to remain, and +together we went to the hidden ravine which I knew. We found the +place empty; but there were unmistakable signs that a party of men had been +encamped there for several days. Some of our men, who were skilled in +woodcraft and in signs generally, agreed that there must have been some +twenty of them. As they could not find any trail either coming to or +going from the place, they came to the conclusion that they must have come +separately from different directions and gathered there, and that they must +have departed in something of the same mysterious way.</p> +<p>However, this was, at any rate, some sort of a beginning, and the men +separated, having agreed amongst themselves to make a wide cast round the +place in the search for tracks. Whoever should find a trail was to +follow with at least one comrade, and when there was any definite news, it +was to be signalled to the Castle.</p> +<p>I myself returned at once, and set the signallers to work to spread +amongst our own people such news as we had.</p> +<p>When presently such discoveries as had been made were signalled with +flags to the Castle, it was found that the marauders had, in their flight, +followed a strangely zigzag course. It was evident that, in trying to +baffle pursuit, they had tried to avoid places which they thought might be +dangerous to them. This may have been simply a method to disconcert +pursuit. If so, it was, in a measure, excellent, for none of those +immediately following could possibly tell in what direction they were +heading. It was only when we worked the course on the great map in +the signaller’s room (which was the old guard room of the Castle) +that we could get an inkling of the general direction of their +flight. This gave added trouble to the pursuit; for the men who +followed, being ignorant of their general intent, could not ever take +chance to head them off, but had to be ready to follow in any or every +direction. In this manner the pursuit was altogether a stern chase, +and therefore bound to be a long one.</p> +<p>As at present we could not do anything till the intended route was more +marked, I left the signalling corps to the task of receiving and giving +information to the moving bands, so that, if occasion served, they might +head off the marauders. I myself took Rooke, as captain of the yacht, +and swept out of the creek. We ran up north to Dalairi, then down +south to Olesso, and came back to Vissarion. We saw nothing +suspicious except, far off to the extreme southward, one warship which flew +no flag. Rooke, however, who seemed to know ships by instinct, said +she was a Turk; so on our return we signalled along the whole shore to +watch her. Rooke held The Lady—which was the name I had given +the armoured yacht—in readiness to dart out in case anything +suspicious was reported. He was not to stand on any ceremony, but if +necessary to attack. We did not intend to lose a point in this +desperate struggle which we had undertaken. We had placed in +different likely spots a couple of our own men to look after the +signalling.</p> +<p>When I got back I found that the route of the fugitives, who had now +joined into one party, had been definitely ascertained. They had gone +south, but manifestly taking alarm from the advancing line of guards, had +headed up again to the north-east, where the country was broader and the +mountains wilder and less inhabited.</p> +<p>Forthwith, leaving the signalling altogether in the hands of the +fighting priests, I took a small chosen band of the mountaineers of our own +district, and made, with all the speed we could, to cut across the track of +the fugitives a little ahead of them. The Archimandrite (Abbot) of +Spazac, who had just arrived, came with us. He is a splendid +man—a real fighter as well as a holy cleric, as good with his handjar +as with his Bible, and a runner to beat the band. The marauders were +going at a fearful pace, considering that they were all afoot; so we had to +go fast also! Amongst these mountains there is no other means of +progressing. Our own men were so aflame with ardour that I could not +but notice that they, more than any of the others whom I had seen, had some +special cause for concern.</p> +<p>When I mentioned it to the Archimandrite, who moved by my side, he +answered:</p> +<p>“All natural enough; they are not only fighting for their country, +but for their own!” I did not quite understand his answer, and +so began to ask him some questions, to the effect that I soon began to +understand a good deal more than he did.</p> +<p><i>Letter from Archbishop Stevan Palealogue</i>, <i>Head of the Eastern +Church of the Blue Mountains</i>, <i>to the Lady Janet MacKelpie</i>, +<i>Vissarion</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Written July</i> 9, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Honoured Lady</span>,</p> +<p>As you wish for an understanding regarding the late lamentable +occurrence in which so much danger was incurred to this our Land of the +Blue Mountains, and one dear to us, I send these words by request of the +Gospodar Rupert, beloved of our mountaineers.</p> +<p>When the Voivode Peter Vissarion made his journey to the great nation to +whom we looked in our hour of need, it was necessary that he should go in +secret. The Turk was at our gates, and full of the malice of baffled +greed. Already he had tried to arrange a marriage with the Voivodin, +so that in time to come he, as her husband, might have established a claim +to the inheritance of the land. Well he knew, as do all men, that the +Blue Mountaineers owe allegiance to none that they themselves do not +appoint to rulership. This has been the history in the past. +But now and again an individual has arisen or come to the front adapted +personally for such government as this land requires. And so the Lady +Teuta, Voivodin of the Blue Mountains, was put for her proper guarding in +the charge of myself as Head of the Eastern Church in the Land of the Blue +Mountains, steps being taken in such wise that no capture of her could be +effected by unscrupulous enemies of this our Land. This task and +guardianship was gladly held as an honour by all concerned. For the +Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion must be taken as representing in her own person +the glory of the old Serb race, inasmuch as being the only child of the +Voivode Vissarion, last male of his princely race—the race which +ever, during the ten centuries of our history, unflinchingly gave life and +all they held for the protection, safety, and well-being of the Land of the +Blue Mountains. Never during those centuries had any one of the race +been known to fail in patriotism, or to draw back from any loss or hardship +enjoined by high duty or stress of need. Moreover, this was the race +of that first Voivode Vissarion, of whom, in legend, it was prophesied that +he—once known as “The Sword of Freedom,” a giant amongst +men—would some day, when the nation had need of him, come forth from +his water-tomb in the lost Lake of Reo, and lead once more the men of the +Blue Mountains to lasting victory. This noble race, then, had come to +be known as the last hope of the Land. So that when the Voivode was +away on his country’s service, his daughter should be closely +guarded. Soon after the Voivode had gone, it was reported that he +might be long delayed in his diplomacies, and also in studying the system +of Constitutional Monarchy, for which it had been hoped to exchange our +imperfect political system. I may say <i>inter alia</i> that he was +mentioned as to be the first king when the new constitution should have +been arranged.</p> +<p>Then a great misfortune came on us; a terrible grief overshadowed the +land. After a short illness, the Voivodin Teuta Vissarion died +mysteriously of a mysterious ailment. The grief of the mountaineers +was so great that it became necessary for the governing Council to warn +them not to allow their sorrow to be seen. It was imperatively +necessary that the fact of her death should be kept secret. For there +were dangers and difficulties of several kinds. In the first place it +was advisable that even her father should be kept in ignorance of his +terrible loss. It was well known that he held her as the very core of +his heart and that if he should hear of her death, he would be too much +prostrated to be able to do the intricate and delicate work which he had +undertaken. Nay, more: he would never remain afar off, under the sad +circumstances, but would straightway return, so as to be in the land where +she lay. Then suspicions would crop up, and the truth must shortly be +known afield, with the inevitable result that the Land would become the +very centre of a war of many nations.</p> +<p>In the second place, if the Turks were to know that the race of +Vissarion was becoming extinct, this would encourage them to further +aggression, which would become immediate should they find out that the +Voivode was himself away. It was well known that they were already +only suspending hostilities until a fitting opportunity should arise. +Their desire for aggression had become acute after the refusal of the +nation, and of the girl herself, that she should become a wife of the +Sultan.</p> +<p>The dead girl had been buried in the Crypt of the church of St. Sava, +and day after day and night after night, singly and in parties, the +sorrowing mountaineers had come to pay devotion and reverence at her +tomb. So many had wished to have a last glimpse of her face that the +Vladika had, with my own consent as Archbishop, arranged for a glass cover +to be put over the stone coffin wherein her body lay.</p> +<p>After a little time, however, there came a belief to all concerned in +the guarding of the body—these, of course, being the priests of +various degrees of dignity appointed to the task—that the Voivodin +was not really dead, but only in a strangely-prolonged trance. +Thereupon a new complication arose. Our mountaineers are, as perhaps +you know, by nature deeply suspicious—a characteristic of all brave +and self-sacrificing people who are jealous of their noble heritage. +Having, as they believed, seen the girl dead, they might not be willing to +accept the fact of her being alive. They might even imagine that +there was on foot some deep, dark plot which was, or might be, a menace, +now or hereafter, to their independence. In any case, there would be +certain to be two parties on the subject, a dangerous and deplorable thing +in the present condition of affairs.</p> +<p>As the trance, or catalepsy, whatever it was, continued for many days, +there had been ample time for the leaders of the Council, the Vladika, the +priesthood represented by the Archimandrite of Spazac, myself as Archbishop +and guardian of the Voivodin in her father’s absence, to consult as +to a policy to be observed in case of the girl awaking. For in such +case the difficulty of the situation would be multiplied +indefinitely. In the secret chambers of St. Sava’s we had many +secret meetings, and were finally converging on agreement when the end of +the trance came.</p> +<p>The girl awoke!</p> +<p>She was, of course, terribly frightened when she found herself in a tomb +in the Crypt. It was truly fortunate that the great candles around +her tomb had been kept lighted, for their light mitigated the horror of the +place. Had she waked in darkness, her reason might have become +unseated.</p> +<p>She was, however, a very noble girl; brave, with extraordinary will, and +resolution, and self-command, and power of endurance. When she had +been taken into one of the secret chambers of the church, where she was +warmed and cared for, a hurried meeting was held by the Vladika, myself, +and the chiefs of the National Council. Word had been at once sent to +me of the joyful news of her recovery; and with the utmost haste I came, +arriving in time to take a part in the Council.</p> +<p>At the meeting the Voivodin was herself present, and full confidence of +the situation was made to her. She herself proposed that the belief +in her death should be allowed to prevail until the return of her father, +when all could be effectively made clear. To this end she undertook +to submit to the terrific strain which such a proceeding would +involve. At first we men could not believe that any woman could go +through with such a task, and some of us did not hesitate to voice our +doubts—our disbelief. But she stood to her guns, and actually +down-faced us. At the last we, remembering things that had been done, +though long ages ago, by others of her race, came to believe not merely in +her self-belief and intention, but even in the feasibility of her +plan. She took the most solemn oaths not to betray the secret under +any possible stress.</p> +<p>The priesthood undertook through the Vladika and myself to further a +ghostly belief amongst the mountaineers which would tend to prevent a too +close or too persistent observation. The Vampire legend was spread as +a protection against partial discovery by any mischance, and other weird +beliefs were set afoot and fostered. Arrangements were made that only +on certain days were the mountaineers to be admitted to the Crypt, she +agreeing that for these occasions she was to take opiates or carry out any +other aid to the preservation of the secret. She was willing, she +impressed upon us, to make any personal sacrifice which might be deemed +necessary for the carrying out her father’s task for the good of the +nation.</p> +<p>Of course, she had at first terrible frights lying alone in the horror +of the Crypt. But after a time the terrors of the situation, if they +did not cease, were mitigated. There are secret caverns off the +Crypt, wherein in troublous times the priests and others of high place have +found safe retreat. One of these was prepared for the Voivodin, and +there she remained, except for such times as she was on show—and +certain other times of which I shall tell you. Provision was made for +the possibility of any accidental visit to the church. At such times, +warned by an automatic signal from the opening door, she was to take her +place in the tomb. The mechanism was so arranged that the means to +replace the glass cover, and to take the opiate, were there ready to her +hand. There was to be always a watch of priests at night in the +church, to guard her from ghostly fears as well as from more physical +dangers; and if she was actually in her tomb, it was to be visited at +certain intervals. Even the draperies which covered her in the +sarcophagus were rested on a bridge placed from side to side just above +her, so as to hide the rising and falling of her bosom as she slept under +the narcotic.</p> +<p>After a while the prolonged strain began to tell so much on her that it +was decided that she should take now and again exercise out of doors. +This was not difficult, for when the Vampire story which we had spread +began to be widely known, her being seen would be accepted as a proof of +its truth. Still, as there was a certain danger in her being seen at +all, we thought it necessary to exact from her a solemn oath that so long +as her sad task lasted she should under no circumstances ever wear any +dress but her shroud—this being the only way to insure secrecy and to +prevail against accident.</p> +<p>There is a secret way from the Crypt to a sea cavern, whose entrance is +at high-tide under the water-line at the base of the cliff on which the +church is built. A boat, shaped like a coffin, was provided for her; +and in this she was accustomed to pass across the creek whenever she wished +to make excursion. It was an excellent device, and most efficacious +in disseminating the Vampire belief.</p> +<p>This state of things had now lasted from before the time when the +Gospodar Rupert came to Vissarion up to the day of the arrival of the +armoured yacht.</p> +<p>That night the priest on duty, on going his round of the Crypt just +before dawn, found the tomb empty. He called the others, and they +made full search. The boat was gone from the cavern, but on making +search they found it on the farther side of the creek, close to the garden +stairs. Beyond this they could discover nothing. She seemed to +have disappeared without leaving a trace.</p> +<p>Straightway they went to the Vladika, and signalled to me by the +fire-signal at the monastery at Astrag, where I then was. I took a +band of mountaineers with me, and set out to scour the country. But +before going I sent an urgent message to the Gospodar Rupert, asking him, +who showed so much interest and love to our Land, to help us in our +trouble. He, of course, knew nothing then of all have now told +you. Nevertheless, he devoted himself whole-heartedly to our +needs—as doubtless you know.</p> +<p>But the time had now come close when the Voivode Vissarion was about to +return from his mission; and we of the council of his daughter’s +guardianship were beginning to arrange matters so that at his return the +good news of her being still alive could be made public. With her +father present to vouch for her, no question as to truth could arise.</p> +<p>But by some means the Turkish “Bureau of Spies” must have +got knowledge of the fact already. To steal a dead body for the +purpose of later establishing a fictitious claim would have been an +enterprise even more desperate than that already undertaken. We +inferred from many signs, made known to us in an investigation, that a +daring party of the Sultan’s emissaries had made a secret incursion +with the object of kidnapping the Voivodin. They must have been bold +of heart and strong of resource to enter the Land of the Blue Mountains on +any errand, let alone such a desperate one as this. For centuries we +have been teaching the Turk through bitter lessons that it is neither a +safe task nor an easy one to make incursion here.</p> +<p>How they did it we know not—at present; but enter they did, and, +after waiting in some secret hiding-place for a favourable opportunity, +secured their prey. We know not even now whether they had found +entrance to the Crypt and stole, as they thought, the dead body, or +whether, by some dire mischance, they found her abroad—under her +disguise as a ghost. At any rate, they had captured her, and through +devious ways amongst the mountains were bearing her back to Turkey. +It was manifest that when she was on Turkish soil the Sultan would force a +marriage on her so as eventually to secure for himself or his successors as +against all other nations a claim for the suzerainty or guardianship of the +Blue Mountains.</p> +<p>Such was the state of affairs when the Gospodar Rupert threw himself +into the pursuit with fiery zeal and the Berserk passion which he inherited +from Viking ancestors, whence of old came “The Sword of +Freedom” himself.</p> +<p>But at that very time was another possibility which the Gospodar was +himself the first to realize. Failing the getting the Voivodin safe +to Turkish soil, the ravishers might kill her! This would be entirely +in accord with the base traditions and history of the Moslems. So, +too, it would accord with Turkish customs and the Sultan’s present +desires. It would, in its way, benefit the ultimate strategetic ends +of Turkey. For were once the Vissarion race at an end, the subjection +of the Land of the Blue Mountains might, in their view, be an easier task +than it had yet been found to be.</p> +<p>Such, illustrious lady, were the conditions of affairs when the Gospodar +Rupert first drew his handjar for the Blue Mountains and what it held most +dear.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Palealogue</span>,<br /> +<i>Archbishop of the Eastern Church</i>, <i>in the Land of the Blue +Mountains</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 8, 1907.</p> +<p>I wonder if ever in the long, strange history of the world had there +come to any other such glad tidings as came to me—and even then +rather inferentially than directly—from the Archimandrite’s +answers to my questioning. Happily I was able to restrain myself, or +I should have created some strange confusion which might have evoked +distrust, and would certainly have hampered us in our pursuit. For a +little I could hardly accept the truth which wove itself through my brain +as the true inwardness of each fact came home to me and took its place in +the whole fabric. But even the most welcome truth has to be accepted +some time by even a doubting heart. My heart, whatever it may have +been, was not then a doubting heart, but a very, very grateful one. +It was only the splendid magnitude of the truth which forbade its immediate +acceptance. I could have shouted for joy, and only stilled myself by +keeping my thoughts fixed on the danger which my wife was in. My +wife! My wife! Not a Vampire; not a poor harassed creature +doomed to terrible woe, but a splendid woman, brave beyond belief, +patriotic in a way which has but few peers even in the wide history of +bravery! I began to understand the true meaning of the strange +occurrences that have come into my life. Even the origin and purpose +of that first strange visit to my room became clear. No wonder that +the girl could move about the Castle in so mysterious a manner. She +had lived there all her life, and was familiar with the secret ways of +entrance and exit. I had always believed that the place must have +been honeycombed with secret passages. No wonder that she could find +a way to the battlements, mysterious to everybody else. No wonder +that she could meet me at the Flagstaff when she so desired.</p> +<p>To say that I was in a tumult would be to but faintly express my +condition. I was rapt into a heaven of delight which had no measure +in all my adventurous life—the lifting of the veil which showed that +my wife—mine—won in all sincerity in the very teeth of +appalling difficulties and dangers—was no Vampire, no corpse, no +ghost or phantom, but a real woman of flesh and blood, of affection, and +love, and passion. Now at last would my love be crowned indeed when, +having rescued her from the marauders, I should bear her to my own home, +where she would live and reign in peace and comfort and honour, and in love +and wifely happiness if I could achieve such a blessing for her—and +for myself.</p> +<p>But here a dreadful thought flashed across me, which in an instant +turned my joy to despair, my throbbing heart to ice:</p> +<p>“As she is a real woman, she is in greater danger than ever in the +hands of Turkish ruffians. To them a woman is in any case no more +than a sheep; and if they cannot bring her to the harem of the Sultan, they +may deem it the next wisest step to kill her. In that way, too, they +might find a better chance of escape. Once rid of her the party could +separate, and there might be a chance of some of them finding escape as +individuals that would not exist for a party. But even if they did +not kill her, to escape with her would be to condemn her to the worst fate +of all the harem of the Turk! Lifelong misery and +despair—however long that life might be—must be the lot of a +Christian woman doomed to such a lot. And to her, just happily +wedded, and after she had served her country in such a noble way as she had +done, that dreadful life of shameful slavery would be a misery beyond +belief.</p> +<p>“She must be rescued—and quickly! The marauders must +be caught soon, and suddenly, so that they may have neither time nor +opportunity to harm her, as they would be certain to do if they have +warning of immediate danger.</p> +<p>“On! on!”</p> +<p>And “on” it was all through that terrible night as well as +we could through the forest.</p> +<p>It was a race between the mountaineers and myself as to who should be +first. I understood now the feeling that animated them, and which +singled them out even from amongst their fiery comrades, when the danger of +the Voivodin became known. These men were no mean contestants even in +such a race, and, strong as I am, it took my utmost effort to keep ahead of +them. They were keen as leopards, and as swift. Their lives had +been spent among the mountains, and their hearts and souls on were in the +chase. I doubt not that if the death of any one of us could have +through any means effected my wife’s release, we should, if +necessary, have fought amongst ourselves for the honour.</p> +<p>From the nature of the work before us our party had to keep to the top +of the hills. We had not only to keep observation on the flying party +whom we followed, and to prevent them making discovery of us, but we had to +be always in a position to receive and answer signals made to us from the +Castle, or sent to us from other eminences.</p> +<p><i>Letter from Petrof Vlastimir</i>, <i>Archimandrite of Spazac</i>, +<i>to the Lady Janet MacKelpie</i>, <i>of Vissarion</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Written July</i> 8, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Great Lady</span>,</p> +<p>I am asked to write by the Vladika, and have permission of the +Archbishop. I have the honour of transmitting to you the record of +the pursuit of the Turkish spies who carried off the Voivodin Teuta, of the +noble House of Vissarion. The pursuit was undertaken by the Gospodar +Rupert, who asked that I would come with his party, since what he was so +good as to call my “great knowledge of the country and its +people” might serve much. It is true that I have had much +knowledge of the Land of the Blue Mountains and its people, amongst which +and whom my whole life has been passed. But in such a cause no reason +was required. There was not a man in the Blue Mountains who would not +have given his life for the Voivodin Teuta, and when they heard that she +had not been dead, as they thought, but only in a trance, and that it was +she whom the marauders had carried off, they were in a frenzy. So why +should I—to whom has been given the great trust of the Monastery of +Spazac—hesitate at such a time? For myself, I wanted to hurry +on, and to come at once to the fight with my country’s foes; and well +I knew that the Gospodar Rupert, with a lion’s heart meet for his +giant body, would press on with a matchless speed. We of the Blue +Mountains do not lag when our foes are in front of us; most of all do we of +the Eastern Church press on when the Crescent wars against the Cross!</p> +<p>We took with us no gear or hamper of any kind; no coverings except what +we stood in; no food—nothing but our handjars and our rifles, with a +sufficiency of ammunition. Before starting, the Gospodar gave hurried +orders by signal from the Castle to have food and ammunition sent to us (as +we might signal) by the nearest hamlet.</p> +<p>It was high noon when we started, only ten strong—for our leader +would take none but approved runners who could shoot straight and use the +handjar as it should be used. So as we went light, we expected to go +fast. By this time we knew from the reports signalled to Vissarion +that the enemies were chosen men of no despicable prowess.</p> +<p>The Keeper of the Green Flag of Islam is well served, and as though the +Turk is an infidel and a dog, he is sometimes brave and strong. +Indeed, except when he passes the confines of the Blue Mountains, he has +been known to do stirring deeds. But as none who have dared to wander +in amongst our hills ever return to their own land, we may not know of how +they speak at home of their battles here. Still, these men were +evidently not to be despised; and our Gospodar, who is a wise man as well +as a valiant, warned us to be prudent, and not to despise our foes over +much. We did as he counselled, and in proof we only took ten men, as +we had only twenty against us. But then there was at stake much +beyond life, and we took no risks. So, as the great clock at +Vissarion clanged of noon, the eight fastest runners of the Blue Mountains, +together with the Gospodar Rupert and myself, swept out on our +journey. It had been signalled to us that the course which the +marauders had as yet taken in their flight was a zigzag one, running +eccentrically at all sorts of angles in all sorts of directions. But +our leader had marked out a course where we might intercept our foes across +the main line of their flight; and till we had reached that region we +paused not a second, but went as fast as we could all night long. +Indeed, it was amongst us a race as was the Olympic race of old Greece, +each one vying with his fellows, though not in jealous emulation, but in +high spirit, to best serve his country and the Voivodin Teuta. +Foremost amongst us went the Gospodar, bearing himself as a Paladin of old, +his mighty form pausing for no obstacle. Perpetually did he urge us +on. He would not stop or pause for a moment, but often as he and I +ran together—for, lady, in my youth I was the fleetest of all in the +race, and even that now can head a battalion when duty calls—he would +ask me certain questions as to the Lady Teuta and of the strange manner of +her reputed death, as it was gradually unfolded in my answers to his +questioning. And as each new phase of knowledge came to him, he would +rush on as one possessed of fiends: whereat our mountaineers, who seem to +respect even fiends for their thoroughness, would strive to keep pace with +him till they too seemed worked into diabolic possession. And I +myself, left alone in the calmness of sacerdotal office, forgot even +that. With surging ears and eyes that saw blood, I rushed along with +best of them.</p> +<p>Then truly the spirit of a great captain showed itself in the Gospodar, +for when others were charged with fury he began to force himself into calm, +so that out of his present self-command and the memory of his exalted +position came a worthy strategy and thought for every contingency that +might arise. So that when some new direction was required for our +guidance, there was no hesitation in its coming. We, nine men of +varying kinds, all felt that we had a master; and so, being willing to +limit ourselves to strict obedience, we were free to use such thoughts as +well as such powers as we had to the best advantage of the doing.</p> +<p>We came across the trail of the flying marauders on the second morning +after the abduction, a little before noon. It was easy enough to see, +for by this time the miscreants were all together, and our people, who were +woodlanders, were able to tell much of the party that passed. These +were evidently in a terrified hurry, for they had taken no precautions such +as are necessary baffle pursuit, and all of which take time. Our +foresters said that two went ahead and two behind. In the centre went +the mass, moving close together, as though surrounding their +prisoner. We caught not even a single glimpse her—could not +have, they encompassed her so closely. But our foresters saw other +than the mass; the ground that had been passed was before them. They +knew that the prisoner had gone unwillingly—nay, more: one of them +said as he rose from his knees, where he had been examining of the +ground:</p> +<p>“The misbegotten dogs have been urging her on with their +yataghans! There are drops of blood, though there are no blood-marks +on her feet.”</p> +<p>Whereupon the Gospodar flamed with passion. His teeth ground +together, and with a deep-breathed “On, on!” he sprang off +again, handjar in hand, on the track.</p> +<p>Before long we saw the party in the distance. They this were far +below us in a deep valley, although the track of their going passed away to +the right hand. They were making for the base of the great cliff, +which rose before us all. Their reason was twofold, as we soon +knew. Far off down the valley which they were crossing we saw signs +of persons coming in haste, who must be of the search party coming from the +north. Though the trees hid them, we could not mistake the +signs. I was myself forester enough to have no doubt. Again, it +was evident that the young Voivodin could travel no longer at the dreadful +pace at which they had been going. Those blood-marks told their own +tale! They meant to make a last stand here in case they should be +discovered.</p> +<p>Then it was that he, who amongst us all had been most fierce and most +bent on rapid pursuit, became the most the calm. Raising his hand for +silence—though, God knows, we were and had been silent enough during +that long rush through the forest—he said, in a low, keen whisper +which cut the silence like a knife:</p> +<p>“My friends, the time is come for action. God be thanked, +who has now brought us face to face with our foes! But we must be +careful here—not on our own account, for we wish nothing more than to +rush on and conquer or die—but for the sake of her whom you love, and +whom I, too, love. She is in danger from anything which may give +warning to those fiends. If they know or even suspect for an instant +that we are near, they will murder her . . . ”</p> +<p>Here his voice broke for an instant with the extremity of his passion or +the depth of his feeling—I hardly know which; I think both acted on +him.</p> +<p>“We know from those blood-marks what they can do—even to +her.” His teeth ground together again, but he went on without +stopping further:</p> +<p>“Let us arrange the battle. Though we are but little +distance from them as the crow flies, the way is far to travel. There +is, I can see, but one path down to the valley from this side. That +they have gone by, and that they will sure to guard—to watch, at any +rate. Let us divide, as to surround them. The cliff towards +which they make runs far to the left without a break. That to the +right we cannot see from this spot; but from the nature of the ground it is +not unlikely that it turns round in this direction, making the hither end +of the valley like a vast pocket or amphitheatre. As they have +studied the ground in other places, they may have done so in this, and have +come hither as to a known refuge. Let one man, a marksman, stay +here.”</p> +<p>As he spoke a man stepped to the front. He was, I knew, an +excellent shot.</p> +<p>“Let two others go to the left and try to find a way down the +cliff before us. When they have descended to the level of the +valley—path or no path—let them advance cautiously and +secretly, keeping their guns in readiness. But they must not fire +till need. Remember, my brothers,” said, turning to those who +stepped out a pace or two to the left, “that the first shot gives the +warning which will be the signal for the Voivodin’s death. +These men will not hesitate. You must judge yourselves of the time to +shoot. The others of us will move to the right and try to find a path +on that side. If the valley be indeed a pocket between the cliffs, we +must find a way down that is not a path!”</p> +<p>As he spoke thus there was a blaze in his eyes that betokened no good to +aught that might stand in his way. I ran by his side as we moved to +the right.</p> +<p>It was as he surmised about the cliff. When we got a little on our +way we saw how the rocky formation trended to our right, till, finally, +with a wide curve, it came round to the other side.</p> +<p>It was a fearful valley that, with its narrow girth and its towering +walls that seemed to topple over. On the farther side from us the +great trees that clothed the slope of the mountain over it grew down to the +very edge of the rock, so that their spreading branches hung far over the +chasm. And, so far as we could understand, the same condition existed +on our own side. Below us the valley was dark even in the +daylight. We could best tell the movement of the flying marauders by +the flashes of the white shroud of their captive in the midst of them.</p> +<p>From where we were grouped, amid the great tree-trunks on the very brow +of the cliff, we could, when our eyes were accustomed to the shadow, see +them quite well. In great haste, and half dragging, half carrying the +Voivodin, they crossed the open space and took refuge in a little grassy +alcove surrounded, save for its tortuous entrance, by undergrowth. +From the valley level it was manifestly impossible to see them, though we +from our altitude could see over the stunted undergrowth. When within +the glade, they took their hands from her. She, shuddering +instinctively, withdrew to a remote corner of the dell.</p> +<p>And then, oh, shame on their manhood!—Turks and heathens though +they were—we could see that they had submitted her to the indignity +of gagging her and binding her hands!</p> +<p>Our Voivodin Teuta bound! To one and all of us it was like lashing +us across the face. I heard the Gospodar’s teeth grind +again. But once more he schooled himself to calmness ere he said:</p> +<p>“It is, perhaps, as well, great though the indignity be. +They are seeking their own doom, which is coming quickly . . . Moreover, +they are thwarting their own base plans. Now that she is bound they +will trust to their binding, so that they will delay their murderous +alternative to the very last moment. Such is our chance of rescuing +her alive!”</p> +<p>For a few moments he stood as still as a stone, as though revolving +something in his mind whilst he watched. I could see that some grim +resolution was forming in his mind, for his eyes ranged to the top of the +trees above cliff, and down again, very slowly this time, as though +measuring and studying the detail of what was in front of him. Then +he spoke:</p> +<p>“They are in hopes that the other pursuing party may not come +across them. To know that, they are waiting. If those others do +not come up the valley, they will proceed on their way. They will +return up the path the way they came. There we can wait them, charge +into the middle of them when she is opposite, and cut down those around +her. Then the others will open fire, and we shall be rid of them!</p> +<p>Whilst he was speaking, two of the men of our party, who I knew to be +good sharpshooters, and who had just before lain on their faces and had +steadied their rifles to shoot, rose to their feet.</p> +<p>“Command us, Gospodar!” they said simply, as they stood to +attention. “Shall we go to the head of the ravine road and +there take hiding?” He thought for perhaps a minute, whilst we +all stood as silent as images. I could hear our hearts beating. +Then he said:</p> +<p>“No, not yet. There is time for that yet. They will +not—cannot stir or make plans in any way till they know whether the +other party is coming towards them or not. From our height here we +can see what course the others are taking long before those villains +do. Then we can make our plans and be ready in time.”</p> +<p>We waited many minutes, but could see no further signs the other +pursuing party. These had evidently adopted greater caution in their +movements as they came closer to where they expected to find the +enemy. The marauders began to grow anxious. Even at our +distance we could gather as much from their attitude and movements.</p> +<p>Presently, when the suspense of their ignorance grew too much for them, +they drew to the entrance of the glade, which was the farthest place to +which, without exposing themselves to anyone who might come to the valley, +they could withdraw from their captive. Here they consulted +together. We could follow from their gestures what they were saying, +for as they did not wish their prisoner to hear, their gesticulation was +enlightening to us as to each other. Our people, like all +mountaineers, have good eyes, and the Gospodar is himself an eagle in this +as in other ways. Three men stood back from the rest. They +stacked their rifles so that they could seize them easily. Then they +drew their scimitars, and stood ready, as though on guard.</p> +<p>These were evidently the appointed murderers. Well they knew their +work; for though they stood in a desert place with none within long +distance except the pursuing party, of whose approach they would have good +notice, they stood so close to their prisoner that no marksman in the +world—now or that ever had been; not William Tell himself—could +have harmed any of them without at least endangering her. Two of them +turned the Voivodin round so that her face was towards the +precipice—in which position she could not see what was going +on—whilst he who was evidently leader of the gang explained, in +gesture, that the others were going to spy upon the pursuing party. +When they had located them he, or one of his men, would come out of the +opening of the wood wherein they had had evidence of them, and hold up his +hand.</p> +<p>That was to be the signal for the cutting of the victim’s +throat—such being the chosen method (villainous even for heathen +murderers) of her death. There was not one of our men who did not +grind his teeth when we witnessed the grim action, only too expressive, of +the Turk as he drew his right hand, clenched as though he held a yataghan +in it, across his throat.</p> +<p>At the opening of the glade all the spying party halted whilst the +leader appointed to each his place of entry of the wood, the front of which +extended in an almost straight across the valley from cliff to cliff.</p> +<p>The men, stooping low when in the open, and taking instant advantage of +every little obstacle on the ground, seemed to fade like spectres with +incredible swiftness across the level mead, and were swallowed up in the +wood.</p> +<p>When they had disappeared the Gospodar Rupert revealed to us the details +of the plan of action which he had revolving in his mind. He motioned +us to follow him: we threaded a way between the tree-trunks, keeping all +the while on the very edge of the cliff, so that the space below was all +visible to us. When we had got round the curve sufficiently to see +the whole of the wood on the valley level, without losing sight of the +Voivodin and her appointed assassins, we halted under his direction. +There was an added advantage of this point over the other, for we could see +directly the rising of the hill-road, up which farther side ran the +continuation of the mountain path which the marauders had followed. +It was somewhere on that path that the other pursuing party had hoped to +intercept the fugitives. The Gospodar spoke quickly, though in a +voice of command which true soldiers love to hear:</p> +<p>“Brothers, the time has come when we can strike a blow for Teuta +and the Land. Do you two, marksmen, take position here facing the +wood.” The two men here lay down and got their rifles +ready. “Divide the frontage of the wood between you; arrange +between yourselves the limits of your positions. The very instant one +of the marauders appears, cover him; drop him before he emerges from the +wood. Even then still watch and treat similarly whoever else may take +his place. Do this if they come singly till not a man is left. +Remember, brothers, that brave hearts alone will not suffice at this grim +crisis. In this hour the best safety of the Voivodin is in the calm +spirit and the steady eye!” Then he turned to the rest of us, +and spoke to me:</p> +<p>“Archimandrite of Plazac, you who are interpreter to God of the +prayers of so many souls, my own hour has come. If I do not return, +convey my love to my Aunt Janet—Miss MacKelpie, at Vissarion. +There is but one thing left to us if we wish to save the Voivodin. Do +you, when the time comes, take these men and join the watcher at the top of +the ravine road. When the shots are fired, do you out handjar, and +rush the ravine and across the valley. Brothers, you may be in time +to avenge the Voivodin, if you cannot save her. For me there must be +a quicker way, and to it I go. As there is not, and will not be, time +to traverse the path, I must take a quicker way. Nature finds me a +path that man has made it necessary for me to travel. See that giant +beech-tree that towers above the glade where the Voivodin is held? +There is my path! When you from here have marked the return of the +spies, give me a signal with your hat—do not use a handkerchief, as +others might see its white, and take warning. Then rush that +ravine. I shall take that as the signal for my descent by the leafy +road. If I can do naught else, I can crush the murderers with my +falling weight, even if I have to kill her too. At least we shall die +together—and free. Lay us together in the tomb at St. +Sava’s. Farewell, if it be the last!”</p> +<p>He threw down the scabbard in which he carried his handjar, adjusted the +naked weapon in his belt behind his back, and was gone!</p> +<p>We who were not watching the wood kept our eyes fixed on the great +beech-tree, and with new interest noticed the long trailing branches which +hung low, and swayed even in the gentle breeze. For a few minutes, +which seemed amazingly long, we saw no sign of him. Then, high up on +one of the great branches which stood clear of obscuring leaves, we saw +something crawling flat against the bark. He was well out on the +branch, hanging far over the precipice. He was looking over at us, +and I waved my hand so that he should know we saw him. He was clad in +green—his usual forest dress—so that there was not any +likelihood of any other eyes noticing him. I took off my hat, and +held it ready to signal with when the time should come. I glanced +down at the glade and saw the Voivodin standing, still safe, with her +guards so close to her as to touch. Then I, too, fixed my eyes on the +wood.</p> +<p>Suddenly the man standing beside me seized my arm and pointed. I +could just see through the trees, which were lower than elsewhere in the +front of the wood, a Turk moving stealthily; so I waved my hat. At +the same time a rifle underneath me cracked. A second or two later +the spy pitched forward on his face and lay still. At the same +instant my eyes sought the beech-tree, and I saw the close-lying figure +raise itself and slide forward to a joint of the branch. Then the +Gospodar, as he rose, hurled himself forward amid the mass of the trailing +branches. He dropped like a stone, and my heart sank.</p> +<p>But an instant later he seemed in poise. He had clutched the thin, +trailing branches as he fell; and as he sank a number of leaves which his +motion had torn off floated out round him.</p> +<p>Again the rifle below me cracked, and then again, and again, and +again. The marauders had taken warning, and were coming out in +mass. But my own eyes were fixed on the tree. Almost as a +thunderbolt falls fell the giant body of the Gospodar, his size lost in the +immensity of his surroundings. He fell in a series of jerks, as he +kept clutching the trailing beech-branches whilst they lasted, and then +other lesser verdure growing out from the fissures in the rock after the +lengthening branches had with all their elasticity reached their last +point.</p> +<p>At length—for though this all took place in a very few seconds the +gravity of the crisis prolonged them immeasurably—there came a large +space of rock some three times his own length. He did not pause, but +swung himself to one side, so that he should fall close to the Voivodin and +her guards. These men did not seem to notice, for their attention was +fixed on the wood whence they expected their messenger to signal. But +they raised their yataghans in readiness. The shots had alarmed them; +and they meant to do the murder now—messenger or no messenger</p> +<p>But though the men did not see the danger from above, the Voivodin +did. She raised her eyes quickly at the first sound, and even from +where we were, before we began to run towards the ravine path, I could see +the triumphant look in her glorious eyes when she recognized the identity +of the man who was seemingly coming straight down from Heaven itself to +help her—as, indeed, she, and we too, can very well imagine that he +did; for if ever heaven had a hand in a rescue on earth, it was now.</p> +<p>Even during the last drop from the rocky foliage the Gospodar kept his +head. As he fell he pulled his handjar free, and almost as he was +falling its sweep took off the head of one of the assassins. As he +touched ground he stumbled for an instant, but it was towards his +enemies. Twice with lightning rapidity the handjar swept the air, and +at each sweep a head rolled on the sward.</p> +<p>The Voivodin held up her tied hands. Again the handjar flashed, +this time downwards, and the lady was free. Without an +instant’s pause the Gospodar tore off the gag, and with his left arm +round her and handjar in right hand, stood face toward his living +foes. The Voivodin stooped suddenly, and then, raising the yataghan +which had fallen from the hand of one of the dead marauders, stood armed +beside him.</p> +<p>The rifles were now cracking fast, as the marauders—those that +were left of them—came rushing out into the open. But well the +marksmen knew their work. Well they bore in mind the Gospodar’s +command regarding calmness. They kept picking off the foremost men +only, so that the onward rush never seemed to get more forward.</p> +<p>As we rushed down the ravine we could see clearly all before us. +But now, just as we were beginning to fear lest some mischance might allow +some of them to reach the glade, there was another cause of +surprise—of rejoicing.</p> +<p>From the face of the wood seemed to burst all at once a body of men, all +wearing the national cap, so we knew them as our own. They were all +armed with the handjar only, and they came like tigers. They swept on +the rushing Turks as though, for all their swiftness, they were standing +still—literally wiping them out as a child wipes a lesson from its +slate.</p> +<p>A few seconds later these were followed by a tall figure with long hair +and beard of black mingled with grey. Instinctively we all, as did +those in the valley, shouted with joy. For this was the Vladika +Milosh Plamenac himself.</p> +<p>I confess that, knowing what I knew, I was for a short space of time +anxious lest, in the terrific excitement in which we were all lapped, +someone might say or do something which might make for trouble later +on. The Gospodar’s splendid achievement, which was worthy of +any hero of old romance, had set us all on fire. He himself must have +been wrought to a high pitch of excitement to dare such an act; and it is +not at such a time that discretion must be expected from any man. +Most of all did I fear danger from the womanhood of the Voivodin. Had +I not assisted at her marriage, I might not have understood then what it +must have been to her to be saved from such a doom at such a time by such a +man, who was so much to her, and in such a way. It would have been +only natural if at such a moment of gratitude and triumph she had +proclaimed the secret which we of the Council of the Nation and her +father’s Commissioners had so religiously kept. But none of us +knew then either the Voivodin or the Gospodar Rupert as we do now. It +was well that they were as they are, for the jealousy and suspicion of our +mountaineers might, even at such a moment, and even whilst they throbbed at +such a deed, have so manifested themselves as to have left a legacy of +distrust. The Vladika and I, who of all (save the two immediately +concerned) alone knew, looked at each other apprehensively. But at +that instant the Voivodin, with a swift glance at her husband, laid a +finger on her lip; and he, with quick understanding, gave assurance by a +similar sign. Then she sank before him on one knee, and, raising his +hand to her lips, kissed it, and spoke:</p> +<p>“Gospodar Rupert, I owe you all that a woman may owe, except to +God. You have given me life and honour! I cannot thank you +adequately for what you have done; my father will try to do so when he +returns. But I am right sure that the men of the Blue Mountains, who +so value honour, and freedom, and liberty, and bravery, will hold you in +their hearts for ever!”</p> +<p>This was so sweetly spoken, with lips that trembled and eyes that swam +in tears, so truly womanly and so in accord with the custom of our nation +regarding the reverence that women owe to men, that the hearts of our +mountaineers were touched to the quick. Their noble simplicity found +expression in tears. But if the gallant Gospodar could have for a +moment thought that so to weep was unmanly, his error would have had +instant correction. When the Voivodin had risen to her feet, which +she did with queenly dignity, the men around closed in on the Gospodar like +a wave of the sea, and in a second held him above their heads, tossing on +their lifted hands as if on stormy breakers. It was as though the old +Vikings of whom we have heard, and whose blood flows in Rupert’s +veins, were choosing a chief in old fashion. I was myself glad that +the men were so taken up with the Gospodar that they did not see the glory +of the moment in the Voivodin’s starry eyes; for else they might have +guessed the secret. I knew from the Vladika’s look that he +shared my own satisfaction, even as he had shared my anxiety.</p> +<p>As the Gospodar Rupert was tossed high on the lifted hands of the +mountaineers, their shouts rose to such a sudden volume that around us, as +far as I could see, the frightened birds rose from the forest, and their +noisy alarm swelled the tumult.</p> +<p>The Gospodar, ever thoughtful for others, was the first to calm +himself.</p> +<p>“Come, brothers,” he said, “let us gain the hilltop, +where we can signal to the Castle. It is right that the whole nation +should share in the glad tidings that the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion is +free. But before we go, let us remove the arms and clothing of these +carrion marauders. We may have use for them later on.”</p> +<p>The mountaineers set him down, gently enough. And he, taking the +Voivodin by the hand, and calling the Vladika and myself close to them, led +the way up the ravine path which the marauders had descended, and thence +through the forest to the top of the hill that dominated the valley. +Here we could, from an opening amongst the trees, catch a glimpse far off +of the battlements of Vissarion. Forthwith the Gospodar signalled; +and on the moment a reply of their awaiting was given. Then the +Gospodar signalled the glad news. It was received with manifest +rejoicing. We could not hear any sound so far away, but we could see +the movement of lifted faces and waving hands, and knew that it was +well. But an instant after came a calm so dread that we knew before +the semaphore had begun to work that there was bad news in store for +us. When the news did come, a bitter wailing arose amongst us; for +the news that was signalled ran:</p> +<p>“The Voivode has been captured by the Turks on his return, and is +held by them at Ilsin.”</p> +<p>In an instant the temper of the mountaineers changed. It was as +though by a flash summer had changed to winter, as though the yellow glory +of the standing corn had been obliterated by the dreary waste of +snow. Nay, more: it was as when one beholds the track of the +whirlwind when the giants of the forest are levelled with the sward. +For a few seconds there was silence; and then, with an angry roar, as when +God speaks in the thunder, came the fierce determination of the men of the +Blue Mountains:</p> +<p>“To Ilsin! To Ilsin!” and a stampede in the direction +of the south began. For, Illustrious Lady, you, perhaps, who have +been for so short a time at Vissarion, may not know that at the extreme +southern point of the Land of the Blue Mountains lies the little port of +Ilsin, which long ago we wrested from the Turk.</p> +<p>The stampede was checked by the command, “Halt!” spoken in a +thunderous voice by the Gospodar. Instinctively all stopped. +The Gospodar Rupert spoke again:</p> +<p>“Had we not better know a little more before we start on our +journey? I shall get by semaphore what details are known. Do +you all proceed in silence and as swiftly as possible. The Vladika +and I will wait here till we have received the news and have sent some +instructions, when we shall follow, and, if we can, overtake you. One +thing: be absolutely silent on what has been. Be secret of every +detail—even as to the rescue of the Voivodin—except what I +send.”</p> +<p>Without a word—thus showing immeasurable trust—the whole +body—not a very large one, it is true—moved on, and the +Gospodar began signalling. As I was myself expert in the code, I did +not require any explanation, but followed question and answer on either +side. The first words the Gospodar Rupert signalled were:</p> +<p>“Silence, absolute and profound, as to everything which has +been.” Then he asked for details of the capture of the +Voivode. The answer ran:</p> +<p>“He was followed from Flushing, and his enemies advised by the +spies all along the route. At Ragusa quite a number of +strangers—travellers seemingly—went on board the packet. +When he got out, the strangers debarked too, and evidently followed him, +though, as yet, we have no details. He disappeared at Ilsin from the +Hotel Reo, whither he had gone. All possible steps are being taken to +trace his movements, and strictest silence and secrecy are +observed.”</p> +<p>His answer was:</p> +<p>“Good! Keep silent and secret. Am hurrying back. +Signal request to Archbishop and all members of National Council to come to +Gadaar with all speed. There the yacht will meet him. Tell +Rooke take yacht all speed to Gadaar; there meet Archbishop and +Council—give him list of names—and return full speed. +Have ready plenty arms, six flying artillery. Two hundred men, +provisions three days. Silence, silence. All depends on +that. All to go on as usual at Castle, except to those in +secret.”</p> +<p>When the receipt of his message had been signalled, we three—for, +of course, the Voivodin was with us; she had refused to leave the +Gospodar—set out hot-foot after our comrades. But by the time +we had descended the hill it was evident that the Voivodin could not keep +up the terrific pace at which we were going. She struggled +heroically, but the long journey she had already taken, and the hardship +and anxiety she had suffered, had told on her. The Gospodar stopped, +and said that it would be better that he should press on—it was, +perhaps, her father’s life—and said he would carry her.</p> +<p>“No, no!” she answered. “Go on! I shall +follow with the Vladika. And then you can have things ready to get on +soon after the Archbishop and Council arrive.” They kissed each +other after, on her part, a shy glance at me; and he went on the track of +our comrades at a great pace. I could see him shortly after catch +them up,—though they, too, were going fast. For a few minutes +they ran together, he speaking—I could note it from the way they kept +turning their heads towards him. Then he broke away from them +hurriedly. He went like a stag breaking covert, and was soon out of +sight. They halted a moment or two. Then some few ran on, and +all the rest came back towards us. Quickly they improvised a litter +with cords and branches, and insisted that the Voivodin should use +it. In an incredibly short time we were under way again, and +proceeding with great rapidity towards Vissarion. The men took it in +turns to help with the litter; I had the honour of taking a hand in the +work myself.</p> +<p>About a third of the way out from Vissarion a number of our people met +us. They were fresh, and as they carried the litter, we who were +relieved were free for speed. So we soon arrived at the Castle.</p> +<p>Here we found all humming like a hive of bees. The yacht, which +Captain Rooke had kept fired ever since the pursuing party under the +Gospodar had left Vissarion, was already away, and tearing up the coast at +a fearful rate. The rifles and ammunition were stacked on the +quay. The field-guns, too, were equipped, and the cases of ammunition +ready to ship. The men, two hundred of them, were paraded in full +kit, ready to start at a moment’s notice. The provision for +three days was all ready to put aboard, and barrels of fresh water to +trundle aboard when the yacht should return. At one end of the quay, +ready to lift on board, stood also the Gospodar’s aeroplane, fully +equipped, and ready, if need were, for immediate flight.</p> +<p>I was glad to see that the Voivodin seemed none the worse for her +terrible experience. She still wore her shroud; but no one seemed to +notice it as anything strange. The whisper had evidently gone round +of what had been. But discretion ruled the day. She and the +Gospodar met as two who had served and suffered in common; but I was glad +to notice that both kept themselves under such control that none of those +not already in the secret even suspected that there was any love between +them, let alone marriage.</p> +<p>We all waited with what patience we could till word was signalled from +the Castle tower that the yacht had appeared over the northern horizon, and +was coming down fast, keeping inshore as she came.</p> +<p>When she arrived, we heard to our joy that all concerned had done their +work well. The Archbishop was aboard, and of the National Council not +one was missing. The Gospodar hurried them all into the great hall of +the Castle, which had in the meantime been got ready. I, too, went +with him, but the Voivodin remained without.</p> +<p>When all were seated, he rose and said:</p> +<p>“My Lord Archbishop, Vladika, and Lords of the Council all, I have +dared to summon you in this way because time presses, and the life of one +you all love—the Voivode Vissarion—is at stake. This +audacious attempt of the Turk is the old aggression under a new form. +It is a new and more daring step than ever to try to capture your chief and +his daughter, the Voivodin, whom you love. Happily, the latter part +of the scheme is frustrated. The Voivodin is safe and amongst +us. But the Voivode is held prisoner—if, indeed, he be still +alive. He must be somewhere near Ilsin—but where exactly we +know not as yet. We have an expedition ready to start the moment we +receive your sanction—your commands. We shall obey your wishes +with our lives. But as the matter is instant, I would venture to ask +one question, and one only: ‘Shall we rescue the Voivode at any cost +that may present itself?’ I ask this, for the matter has now +become an international one, and, if our enemies are as earnest as we are, +the issue is war!”</p> +<p>Having so spoken, and with a dignity and force which is inexpressible, +he withdrew; and the Council, having appointed a scribe—the monk +Cristoferos, whom I had suggested—began its work.</p> +<p>The Archbishop spoke:</p> +<p>“Lords of the Council of the Blue Mountains, I venture to ask you +that the answer to the Gospodar Rupert be an instant ‘Yes!’ +together with thanks and honour to that gallant Englisher, who has made our +cause his own, and who has so valiantly rescued our beloved Voivodin from +the ruthless hands of our enemies.” Forthwith the oldest member +of the Council—Nicolos of Volok—rose, and, after throwing a +searching look round the faces of all, and seeing grave nods of +assent—for not a word was spoken—said to him who held the door: +“Summon the Gospodar Rupert forthwith!” When Rupert +entered, he spoke to him:</p> +<p>“Gospodar Rupert, the Council of the Blue Mountains has only one +answer to give: Proceed! Rescue the Voivode Vissarion, whatever the +cost may be! You hold henceforth in your hand the handjar of our +nation, as already, for what you have done in your valiant rescue of our +beloved Voivodin, your breast holds the heart of our people. Proceed +at once! We give you, I fear, little time; but we know that such is +your own wish. Later, we shall issue formal authorization, so that if +war may ensue, our allies may understand that you have acted for the +nation, and also such letters credential as may be required by you in this +exceptional service. These shall follow you within an hour. For +our enemies we take no account. See, we draw the handjar that we +offer you.” As one man all in the hall drew their handjars, +which flashed as a blaze of lightning.</p> +<p>There did not seem to be an instant’s delay. The Council +broke up, and its members, mingling with the people without, took active +part in the preparations. Not many minutes had elapsed when the +yacht, manned and armed and stored as arranged, was rushing out of the +creek. On the bridge, beside Captain Rooke, stood the Gospodar Rupert +and the still-shrouded form of the Voivodin Teuta. I myself was on +the lower deck with the soldiers, explaining to certain of them the special +duties which they might be called on to fulfil. I held the list which +the Gospodar Rupert had prepared whilst we were waiting for the yacht to +arrive from Gadaar.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Petrof +Vlastimir</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>FROM RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 9, 1907.</p> +<p>We went at a terrific pace down the coast, keeping well inshore so as to +avoid, if possible, being seen from the south. Just north of Ilsin a +rocky headland juts out, and that was our cover. On the north of the +peninsula is a small land-locked bay, with deep water. It is large +enough to take the yacht, though a much larger vessel could not safely +enter. We ran in, and anchored close to the shore, which has a rocky +frontage—a natural shelf of rock, which is practically the same as a +quay. Here we met the men who had come from Ilsin and the +neighbourhood in answer to our signalling earlier in the day. They +gave us the latest information regarding the kidnapping of the Voivode, and +informed us that every man in that section of the country was simply aflame +about it. They assured us that we could rely on them, not merely to +fight to the death, but to keep silence absolutely. Whilst the +seamen, under the direction of Rooke, took the aeroplane on shore and found +a suitable place for it, where it was hidden from casual view, but from +which it could be easily launched, the Vladika and I—and, of course, +my wife—were hearing such details as were known of the disappearance +of her father.</p> +<p>It seems that he travelled secretly in order to avoid just such a +possibility as has happened. No one knew of his coming till he came +to Fiume, whence he sent a guarded message to the Archbishop, which the +latter alone would understand. But this Turkish agents were evidently +on his track all the time, and doubtless the Bureau of Spies was kept well +advised. He landed at Ilsin from a coasting steamer from Ragusa to +the Levant.</p> +<p>For two days before his coming there had been quite an unusual number of +arrivals at the little port, at which arrivals are rare. And it +turned out that the little hotel—the only fairly good one in +Ilsin—was almost filled up. Indeed, only one room was left, +which the Voivode took for the night. The innkeeper did not know the +Voivode in his disguise, but suspected who it was from the +description. He dined quietly, and went to bed. His room was at +the back, on the ground-floor, looking out on the bank of the little River +Silva, which here runs into the harbour. No disturbance was heard in +the night. Late in the morning, when the elderly stranger had not +made his appearance, inquiry was made at his door. He did not answer, +so presently the landlord forced the door, and found the room empty. +His luggage was seemingly intact, only the clothes which he had worn were +gone. A strange thing was that, though the bed had been slept in and +his clothes were gone, his night-clothes were not to be found, from which +it was argued by the local authorities, when they came to make inquiry, +that he had gone or been taken from the room in his night-gear, and that +his clothes had been taken with him. There was evidently some grim +suspicion on the part of the authorities, for they had commanded absolute +silence on all in the house. When they came to make inquiry as to the +other guests, it was found that one and all had gone in the course of the +morning, after paying their bills. None of them had any heavy +luggage, and there was nothing remaining by which they might be traced or +which would afford any clue to their identity. The authorities, +having sent a confidential report to the seat of government, continued +their inquiries, and even now all available hands were at work on the +investigation. When I had signalled to Vissarion, before my arrival +there, word had been sent through the priesthood to enlist in the +investigation the services of all good men, so that every foot of ground in +that section of the Blue Mountains was being investigated. The +port-master was assured by his watchmen that no vessel, large or small, had +heft the harbour during the night. The inference, therefore, was that +the Voivode’s captors had made inland with him—if, indeed, they +were not already secreted in or near the town.</p> +<p>Whilst we were receiving the various reports, a hurried message came +that it was now believed that the whole party were in the Silent +Tower. This was a well-chosen place for such an enterprise. It +was a massive tower of immense strength, built as a memorial—and also +as a “keep”—after one of the massacres of the invading +Turks.</p> +<p>It stood on the summit of a rocky knoll some ten miles inland from the +Port of Ilsin. It was a place shunned as a rule, and the country all +around it was so arid and desolate that there were no residents near +it. As it was kept for state use, and might be serviceable in time of +war, it was closed with massive iron doors, which were kept locked except +upon certain occasions. The keys were at the seat of government at +Plazac. If, therefore, it had been possible to the Turkish marauders +to gain entrance and exit, it might be a difficult as well as a dangerous +task to try to cut the Voivode out. His presence with them was a +dangerous menace to any force attacking them, for they would hold his life +as a threat.</p> +<p>I consulted with the Vladika at once as to what was best to be +done. And we decided that, though we should put a cordon of guards +around it at a safe distance to prevent them receiving warning, we should +at present make no attack.</p> +<p>We made further inquiry as to whether there had been any vessel seen in +the neighbourhood during the past few days, and were informed that once or +twice a warship had been seen on the near side of the southern +horizon. This was evidently the ship which Rooke had seen on his rush +down the coast after the abduction of the Voivodin, and which he had +identified as a Turkish vessel. The glimpses of her which had been +had were all in full daylight—there was no proof that she had not +stolen up during the night-time without lights. But the Vladika and I +were satisfied that the Turkish vessel was watching—was in league +with both parties of marauders—and was intended to take off any of +the strangers, or their prey, who might reach Ilsin undetected. It +was evidently with this view that the kidnappers of Teuta had, in the first +instance, made with all speed for the south. It was only when +disappointed there that they headed up north, seeking in desperation for +some chance of crossing the border. That ring of steel had so far +well served its purpose.</p> +<p>I sent for Rooke, and put the matter before him. He had thought it +out for himself to the same end as we had. His deduction was:</p> +<p>“Let us keep the cordon, and watch for any signal from the Silent +Tower. The Turks will tire before we shall. I undertake to +watch the Turkish warship. During the night I shall run down south, +without lights, and have a look at her, even if I have to wait till the +grey of the dawn to do so. She may see us; but if she does I shall +crawl away at such pace that she shall not get any idea of our speed. +She will certainly come nearer before a day is over, for be sure the bureau +of spies is kept advised, and they know that when the country is awake each +day increases the hazard of them and their plans being discovered. +From their caution I gather that they do not court discovery; and from that +that they do not wish for an open declaration of war. If this be so, +why should we not come out to them and force an issue if need +be?”</p> +<p>When Teuta and I got a chance to be alone, we discussed the situation in +every phase. The poor girl was in a dreadful state of anxiety +regarding her father’s safety. At first she was hardly able to +speak, or even to think, coherently. Her utterance was choked, and +her reasoning palsied with indignation. But presently the fighting +blood of her race restored her faculties, and then her woman’s quick +wit was worth the reasoning of a camp full of men. Seeing that she +was all on fire with the subject, I sat still and waited, taking care not +to interrupt her. For quite a long time she sat still, whilst the +coming night thickened. When she spoke, the whole plan of action, +based on subtle thinking, had mapped itself out in her mind:</p> +<p>“We must act quickly. Every hour increases the risk to my +father.” Here her voice broke for an instant; but she recovered +herself and went on:</p> +<p>“If you go to the ship, I must not go with you. It would not +do for me to be seen. The Captain doubtless knows of both attempts: +that to carry me off as well as that against my father. As yet he is +in ignorance of what has happened. You and your party of brave, loyal +men did their work so well that no news could go forth. So long, +therefore, as the naval Captain is ignorant, he must delay till the +last. But if he saw me he would know that <i>that</i> branch of the +venture had miscarried. He would gather from our being here that we +had news of my father’s capture, and as he would know that the +marauders would fail unless they were relieved by force, he would order the +captive to be slain.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, to-morrow you had, perhaps, better see the Captain, +but to-night we must try to rescue my father. Here I think I see a +way. You have your aeroplane. Please take me with you into the +Silent Tower.”</p> +<p>“Not for a world of chrysolite!” said I, horrified. +She took my hand and held it tight whilst she went on:</p> +<p>“Dear, I know, I know! Be satisfied. But it is the +only way. You can, I know, get there, and in the dark. But if +you were to go in it, it would give warning to the enemies, and besides, my +father would not understand. Remember, he does not know you; he has +never seen you, and does not, I suppose, even know as yet of your +existence. But he would know me at once, and in any dress. You +can manage to lower me into the Tower by a rope from the aeroplane. +The Turks as yet do not know of our pursuit, and doubtless rely, at all +events in part, on the strength and security of the Tower. Therefore +their guard will be less active than it would at first or later on. I +shall post father in all details, and we shall be ready quickly. Now, +dear, let us think out the scheme together. Let your man’s wit +and experience help my ignorance, and we shall save my father!”</p> +<p>How could I have resisted such pleading—even had it not seemed +wise? But wise it was; and I, who knew what the aeroplane could do +under my own guidance, saw at once the practicalities of the scheme. +Of course there was a dreadful risk in case anything should go wrong. +But we are at present living in a world of risks—and her +father’s life was at stake. So I took my dear wife in my arms, +and told her that my mind was hers for this, as my soul and body already +were. And I cheered her by saying that I thought it might be +done.</p> +<p>I sent for Rooke, and told him of the new adventure, and he quite agreed +with me in the wisdom of it. I then told him that he would have to go +and interview the Captain of the Turkish warship in the morning, if I did +not turn up. “I am going to see the Vladika,” I +said. “He will lead our own troops in the attack on the Silent +Tower. But it will rest with you to deal with the warship. Ask +the Captain to whom or what nation the ship belongs. He is sure to +refuse to tell. In such case mention to him that if he flies no +nation’s flag, his vessel is a pirate ship, and that you, who are in +command of the navy of the Blue Mountains, will deal with him as a pirate +is dealt with—no quarter, no mercy. He will temporize, and +perhaps try a bluff; but when things get serious with him he will land a +force, or try to, and may even prepare to shell the town. He will +threaten to, at any rate. In such case deal with him as you think +best, or as near to it as you can.” He answered:</p> +<p>“I shall carry out your wishes with my life. It is a +righteous task. Not that anything of that sort would ever stand in my +way. If he attacks our nation, either as a Turk or a pirate, I shall +wipe him out. We shall see what our own little packet can do. +Moreover, any of the marauders who have entered the Blue Mountains, from +sea or otherwise, shall never get out by sea! I take it that we of my +contingent shall cover the attacking party. It will be a sorry time +for us all if that happens without our seeing you and the Voivodin; for in +such case we shall understand the worst!” Iron as he was, the +man trembled.</p> +<p>“That is so, Rooke,” I said. “We are taking a +desperate chance, we know. But the case is desperate! But we +all have our duty to do, whatever happens. Ours and yours is stern; +but when we have done it, the result will be that life will be easier for +others—for those that are left.”</p> +<p>Before he left, I asked him to send up to me three suits of the +Masterman bullet-proof clothes of which we had a supply on the yacht.</p> +<p>“Two are for the Voivodin and myself,” I said; “the +third is for the Voivode to put on. The Voivodin will take it with +her when she descends from the aeroplane into the Tower.”</p> +<p>Whilst any daylight was left I went out to survey the ground. My +wife wanted to come with me, but I would not let her. +“No,” said I; “you will have at the best a fearful tax on +your strength and your nerves. You will want to be as fresh as is +possible when you get on the aeroplane.” Like a good wife, she +obeyed, and lay down to rest in the little tent provided for her.</p> +<p>I took with me a local man who knew the ground, and who was trusted to +be silent. We made a long detour when we had got as near the Silent +Tower as we could without being noticed. I made notes from my compass +as to directions, and took good notice of anything that could possibly +serve as a landmark. By the time we got home I was pretty well +satisfied that if all should go well I could easily sail over the Tower in +the dark. Then I had a talk with my wife, and gave her full +instructions:</p> +<p>“When we arrive over the Tower,” I said, “I shall +lower you with a long rope. You will have a parcel of food and spirit +for your father in case he is fatigued or faint; and, of course, the +bullet-proof suit, which he must put on at once. You will also have a +short rope with a belt at either end—one for your father, the other +for you. When I turn the aeroplane and come back again, you will have +ready the ring which lies midway between the belts. This you will +catch into the hook at the end of the lowered rope. When all is +secure, and I have pulled you both up by the windlass so as to clear the +top, I shall throw out ballast which we shall carry on purpose, and away we +go! I am sorry it must be so uncomfortable for you both, but there is +no other way. When we get well clear of the Tower, I shall take you +both up on the platform. If necessary, I shall descend to do +it—and then we shall steer for Ilsin.”</p> +<p>“When all is safe, our men will attack the Tower. We must +let them do it, for they expect it. A few men in the clothes and arms +which we took from your captors will be pursued by some of ours. It +is all arranged. They will ask the Turks to admit them, and if the +latter have not learned of your father’s escape, perhaps they will do +so. Once in, our men will try to open the gate. The chances are +against them, poor fellows! but they are all volunteers, and will die +fighting. If they win out, great glory will be theirs.”</p> +<p>“The moon does not rise to-night till just before midnight, so we +have plenty of time. We shall start from here at ten. If all be +well, I shall place you in the Tower with your father in less than a +quarter-hour from that. A few minutes will suffice to clothe him in +bullet-proof and get on his belt. I shall not be away from the Tower +more than a very few minutes, and, please God, long before eleven we shall +be safe. Then the Tower can be won in an attack by our +mountaineers. Perhaps, when the guns are heard on the ship of +war—for there is sure to be firing—the Captain may try to land +a shore party. But Rooke will stand in the way, and if I know the man +and <i>The Lady</i>, we shall not be troubled with many Turks +to-night. By midnight you and your father can be on the way to +Vissarion. I can interview the naval Captain in the +morning.”</p> +<p>My wife’s marvellous courage and self-possession stood to +her. At half an hour before the time fixed she was ready for our +adventure. She had improved the scheme in one detail. She had +put on her own belt and coiled the rope round her waist, so the only delay +would be in bringing her father’s belt. She would keep the +bullet-proof dress intended to be his strapped in a packet on her back, so +that if occasion should be favourable he would not want to put it on till +he and she should have reached the platform of the aeroplane. In such +case, I should not steer away from the Tower at all, but would pass slowly +across it and take up the captive and his brave daughter before +leaving. I had learned from local sources that the Tower was in +several stories. Entrance was by the foot, where the great iron-clad +door was; then came living-rooms and storage, and an open space at the +top. This would probably be thought the best place for the prisoner, +for it was deep-sunk within the massive walls, wherein was no loophole of +any kind. This, if it should so happen, would be the disposition of +things best for our plan. The guards would at this time be all inside +the Tower—probably resting, most of them—so that it was +possible that no one might notice the coming of the airship. I was +afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in such case our task +would be a simple enough one, and would in all human probability be crowned +with success.</p> +<p>At ten o’clock we started. Teuta did not show the smallest +sign of fear or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had +even seen an aeroplane at work. She proved to be an admirable +passenger for an airship. She stayed quite still, holding herself +rigidly in the position arranged, by the cords which I had fixed for +her.</p> +<p>When I had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit by +the Tiny my electric light in the dark box, I had time to look about +me. All seemed quite dark wherever I looked—to land, or sea, or +sky. But darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot +looked dark in turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole. +I could tell the difference, for instance, between land and sea, no matter +how far off we might be from either. Looking upward, the sky was +dark; yet there was light enough to see, and even distinguish broad +effects. I had no difficulty in distinguishing the Tower towards +which we were moving, and that, after all, was the main thing. We +drifted slowly, very slowly, as the air was still, and I only used the +minimum pressure necessary for the engine. I think I now understood +for the first time the extraordinary value of the engine with which my +Kitson was equipped. It was noiseless, it was practically of no +weight, and it allowed the machine to progress as easily as the +old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze. Teuta, who had +naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better than I did, for as we +drew nearer to the Tower, and its round, open top began to articulate +itself, she commenced to prepare for her part of the task. She it was +who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for her lowering. We were +proceeding so gently that she as well as I had hopes that I might be able +to actually balance the machine on the top of the curving wall—a +thing manifestly impossible on a straight surface, though it might have +been possible on an angle.</p> +<p>On we crept—on, and on! There was no sign of light about the +Tower, and not the faintest sound to be heard till we were almost close to +the line of the rising wall; then we heard a sound of something like mirth, +but muffled by distance and thick walls. From it we took fresh heart, +for it told us that our enemies were gathered in the lower chambers. +If only the Voivode should be on the upper stage, all would be well.</p> +<p>Slowly, almost inch by inch, and with a suspense that was agonizing, we +crossed some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wall. I could +see as we came near the jagged line of white patches where the heads of the +massacred Turks placed there on spikes in old days seemed to give still +their grim warning. Seeing that they made in themselves a difficulty +of landing on the wall, I deflected the plane so that, as we crept over the +wall, we might, if they became displaced, brush them to the outside of the +wall. A few seconds more, and I was able to bring the machine to rest +with the front of the platform jutting out beyond the Tower wall. +Here I anchored her fore and aft with clamps which had been already +prepared.</p> +<p>Whilst I was doing so Teuta had leaned over the inner edge of the +platform, and whispered as softly as the sigh of a gentle breeze:</p> +<p>“Hist! hist!” The answer came in a similar sound from +some twenty feet below us, and we knew that the prisoner was alone. +Forthwith, having fixed the hook of the rope in the ring to which was +attached her belt, I lowered my wife. Her father evidently knew her +whisper, and was ready. The hollow Tower—a smooth cylinder +within—sent up the voices from it faint as were the whispers:</p> +<p>“Father, it is I—Teuta!”</p> +<p>“My child, my brave daughter!”</p> +<p>“Quick, father; strap the belt round you. See that it is +secure. We have to be lifted into the air if necessary. Hold +together. It will be easier for Rupert to lift us to the +airship.”</p> +<p>“Rupert?”</p> +<p>“Yes; I shall explain later. Quick, quick! There is +not a moment to lose. He is enormously strong, and can lift us +together; but we must help him by being still, so he won’t have to +use the windlass, which might creak.” As she spoke she jerked +slightly at the rope, which was our preconcerted signal that I was to +lift. I was afraid the windlass might creak, and her thoughtful hint +decided me. I bent my back to the task, and in a few seconds they +were on the platform on which they, at Teuta’s suggestion, lay flat, +one at each side of my seat, so as to keep the best balance possible.</p> +<p>I took off the clamps, lifted the bags of ballast to the top of the +wall, so that there should be no sound of falling, and started the +engine. The machine moved forward a few inches, so that it tilted +towards the outside of the wall. I threw my weight on the front part +of the platform, and we commenced our downward fall at a sharp angle. +A second enlarged the angle, and without further ado we slid away into the +darkness. Then, ascending as we went, when the engine began to work +at its strength, we turned, and presently made straight for Ilsin.</p> +<p>The journey was short—not many minutes. It almost seemed as +if no time whatever had elapsed till we saw below us the gleam of lights, +and by them saw a great body of men gathered in military array. We +slackened and descended. The crowd kept deathly silence, but when we +were amongst them we needed no telling that it was not due to lack of heart +or absence of joy. The pressure of their hands as they surrounded us, +and the devotion with which they kissed the hands and feet of both the +Voivode and his daughter, were evidence enough for me, even had I not had +my own share of their grateful rejoicing.</p> +<p>In the midst of it all the low, stern voice of Rooke, who had burst a +way to the front beside the Vladika, said:</p> +<p>“Now is the time to attack the Tower. Forward, brothers, but +in silence. Let there not be a sound till you are near the gate; then +play your little comedy of the escaping marauders. And ’twill +be no comedy for them in the Tower. The yacht is all ready for the +morning, Mr. Sent Leger, in case I do not come out of the scrimmage if the +bluejackets arrive. In such case you will have to handle her +yourself. God keep you, my Lady; and you, too, Voivode! +Forward!”</p> +<p>In a ghostly silence the grim little army moved forwards. Rooke +and the men with him disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the +harbour of Ilsin.</p> +<h3>FROM THE SCRIPT OF THE VOIVODE, PETER VISSARION,</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 7, 1907.</p> +<p>I had little idea, when I started on my homeward journey, that it would +have such a strange termination. Even I, who ever since my boyhood +have lived in a whirl of adventure, intrigue, or diplomacy—whichever +it may be called—statecraft, and war, had reason to be +surprised. I certainly thought that when I locked myself into my room +in the hotel at Ilsin that I would have at last a spell, however short, of +quiet. All the time of my prolonged negotiations with the various +nationalities I had to be at tension; so, too, on my homeward journey, lest +something at the last moment should happen adversely to my mission. +But when I was safe on my own Land of the Blue Mountains, and laid my head +on my pillow, where only friends could be around me, I thought I might +forget care.</p> +<p>But to wake with a rude hand over my mouth, and to feel myself grasped +tight by so many hands that I could not move a limb, was a dreadful +shock. All after that was like a dreadful dream. I was rolled +in a great rug so tightly that I could hardly breathe, let alone cry +out. Lifted by many hands through the window, which I could hear was +softly opened and shut for the purpose, and carried to a boat. Again +lifted into some sort of litter, on which I was borne a long distance, but +with considerable rapidity. Again lifted out and dragged through a +doorway opened on purpose—I could hear the clang as it was shut +behind me. Then the rug was removed, and I found myself, still in my +night-gear, in the midst of a ring of men. There were two score of +them, all Turks, all strong-looking, resolute men, armed to the +teeth. My clothes, which had been taken from my room, were thrown +down beside me, and I was told to dress. As the Turks were going from +the room—shaped like a vault—where we then were, the last of +them, who seemed to be some sort of officer, said:</p> +<p>“If you cry out or make any noise whatever whilst you are in this +Tower, you shall die before your time!” Presently some food and +water were brought me, and a couple of blankets. I wrapped myself up +and slept till early in the morning. Breakfast was brought, and the +same men filed in. In the presence of them all the same officer +said:</p> +<p>“I have given instructions that if you make any noise or betray +your presence to anyone outside this Tower, the nearest man is to restore +you to immediate quiet with his yataghan. It you promise me that you +will remain quiet whilst you are within the Tower, I can enlarge your +liberties somewhat. Do you promise?” I promised as he +wished; there was no need to make necessary any stricter measure of +confinement. Any chance of escape lay in having the utmost freedom +allowed to me. Although I had been taken away with such secrecy, I +knew that before long there would be pursuit. So I waited with what +patience I could. I was allowed to go on the upper platform—a +consideration due, I am convinced, to my captors’ wish for their own +comfort rather than for mine.</p> +<p>It was not very cheering, for during the daytime I had satisfied myself +that it would be quite impossible for even a younger and more active man +than I am to climb the walls. They were built for prison purposes, +and a cat could not find entry for its claws between the stones. I +resigned myself to my fate as well as I could. Wrapping my blanket +round me, I lay down and looked up at the sky. I wished to see it +whilst I could. I was just dropping to sleep—the unutterable +silence of the place broken only now and again by some remark by my captors +in the rooms below me—when there was a strange appearance just over +me—an appearance so strange that I sat up, and gazed with distended +eyes.</p> +<p>Across the top of the tower, some height above, drifted, slowly and +silently, a great platform. Although the night was dark, it was so +much darker where I was within the hollow of the Tower that I could +actually see what was above me. I knew it was an aeroplane—one +of which I had seen in Washington. A man was seated in the centre, +steering; and beside him was a silent figure of a woman all wrapped in +white. It made my heart beat to see her, for she was figured +something like my Teuta, but broader, less shapely. She leaned over, +and a whispered “Ssh!” crept down to me. I answered in +similar way. Whereupon she rose, and the man lowered her down into +the Tower. Then I saw that it was my dear daughter who had come in +this wonderful way to save me. With infinite haste she helped me to +fasten round my waist a belt attached to a rope, which was coiled round +her; and then the man, who was a giant in strength as well as stature, +raised us both to the platform of the aeroplane, which he set in motion +without an instant’s delay.</p> +<p>Within a few seconds, and without any discovery being made of my escape, +we were speeding towards the sea. The lights of Ilsin were in front +of us. Before reaching the town, however, we descended in the midst +of a little army of my own people, who were gathered ready to advance upon +the Silent Tower, there to effect, if necessary, my rescue by force. +Small chance would there have been of my life in case of such a +struggle. Happily, however, the devotion and courage of my dear +daughter and of her gallant companion prevented such a necessity. It +was strange to me to find such joyous reception amongst my friends +expressed in such a whispered silence. There was no time for comment +or understanding or the asking of questions—I was fain to take things +as they stood, and wait for fuller explanation.</p> +<p>This came later, when my daughter and I were able to converse alone.</p> +<p>When the expedition went out against the Silent Tower, Teuta and I went +to her tent, and with us came her gigantic companion, who seemed not +wearied, but almost overcome with sleep. When we came into the tent, +over which at a little distance a cordon of our mountaineers stood on +guard, he said to me:</p> +<p>“May I ask you, sir, to pardon me for a time, and allow the +Voivodin to explain matters to you? She will, I know, so far assist +me, for there is so much work still to be done before we are free of the +present peril. For myself, I am almost overcome with sleep. For +three nights I have had no sleep, but all during that time much labour and +more anxiety. I could hold on longer; but at daybreak I must go out +to the Turkish warship that lies in the offing. She is a Turk, though +she does not confess to it; and she it is who has brought hither the +marauders who captured both your daughter and yourself. It is needful +that I go, for I hold a personal authority from the National Council to +take whatever step may be necessary for our protection. And when I go +I should be clear-headed, for war may rest on that meeting. I shall +be in the adjoining tent, and shall come at once if I am summoned, in case +you wish for me before dawn.” Here my daughter struck in:</p> +<p>“Father, ask him to remain here. We shall not disturb him, I +am sure, in our talking. And, moreover, if you knew how much I owe to +him—to his own bravery and his strength—you would understand +how much safer I feel when he is close to me, though we are surrounded by +an army of our brave mountaineers.”</p> +<p>“But, my daughter,” I said, for I was as yet all in +ignorance, “there are confidences between father and daughter which +none other may share. Some of what has been I know, but I want to +know all, and it might be better that no stranger—however valiant he +may be, or no matter in what measure we are bound to him—should be +present.” To my astonishment, she who had always been amenable +to my lightest wish actually argued with me:</p> +<p>“Father, there are other confidences which have to be respected in +like wise. Bear with me, dear, till I have told you all, and I am +right sure that you will agree with me. I ask it, father.”</p> +<p>That settled the matter, and as I could see that the gallant gentleman +who had rescued me was swaying on his feet as he waited respectfully, I +said to him:</p> +<p>“Rest with us, sir. We shall watch over your +sleep.”</p> +<p>Then I had to help him, for almost on the instant he sank down, and I +had to guide him to the rugs spread on the ground. In a few seconds +he was in a deep sleep. As I stood looking at him, till I had +realized that he vas really asleep, I could not help marvelling at the +bounty of Nature that could uphold even such a man as this to the last +moment of work to be done, and then allow so swift a collapse when all was +over, and he could rest peacefully.</p> +<p>He was certainly a splendid fellow. I think I never saw so fine a +man physically in my life. And if the lesson of his physiognomy be +true, he is as sterling inwardly as his external is fair. +“Now,” said I to Teuta, “we are to all intents quite +alone. Tell me all that has been, so that I may +understand.”</p> +<p>Whereupon my daughter, making me sit down, knelt beside me, and told me +from end to end the most marvellous story I had ever heard or read +of. Something of it I had already known from the Archbishop +Paleologue’s later letters, but of all else I was ignorant. Far +away in the great West beyond the Atlantic, and again on the fringe of the +Eastern seas, I had been thrilled to my heart’s core by the heroic +devotion and fortitude of my daughter in yielding herself for her +country’s sake to that fearful ordeal of the Crypt; of the grief of +the nation at her reported death, news of which was so mercifully and +wisely withheld from me as long as possible; of the supernatural rumours +that took root so deep; but no word or hint had come to me of a man who had +come across the orbit of her life, much less of all that has resulted from +it. Neither had I known of her being carried off, or of the thrice +gallant rescue of her by Rupert. Little wonder that I thought so +highly of him even at the first moment I had a clear view of him when he +sank down to sleep before me. Why, the man must be a marvel. +Even our mountaineers could not match such endurance as his. In the +course of her narrative my daughter told me of how, being wearied with her +long waiting in the tomb, and waking to find herself alone when the floods +were out, and even the Crypt submerged, she sought safety and warmth +elsewhere; and how she came to the Castle in the night, and found the +strange man alone. I said: “That was dangerous, daughter, if +not wrong. The man, brave and devoted as he is, must answer +me—your father.” At that she was greatly upset, and +before going on with her narrative, drew me close in her arms, and +whispered to me:</p> +<p>“Be gentle to me, father, for I have had much to bear. And +be good to him, for he holds my heart in his breast!” I +reassured her with a gentle pressure—there was no need to +speak. She then went on to tell me about her marriage, and how her +husband, who had fallen into the belief that she was a Vampire, had +determined to give even his soul for her; and how she had on the night of +the marriage left him and gone back to the tomb to play to the end the grim +comedy which she had undertaken to perform till my return; and how, on the +second night after her marriage, as she was in the garden of the +Castle—going, as she shyly told me, to see if all was well with her +husband—she was seized secretly, muffled up, bound, and carried +off. Here she made a pause and a digression. Evidently some +fear lest her husband and myself should quarrel assailed her, for she +said:</p> +<p>“Do understand, father, that Rupert’s marriage to me was in +all ways regular, and quite in accord with our customs. Before we +were married I told the Archbishop of my wish. He, as your +representative during your absence, consented himself, and brought the +matter to the notice of the Vladika and the Archimandrites. All these +concurred, having exacted from me—very properly, I think—a +sacred promise to adhere to my self-appointed task. The marriage +itself was orthodox in all ways—though so far unusual that it was +held at night, and in darkness, save for the lights appointed by the +ritual. As to that, the Archbishop himself, or the Archimandrite of +Spazac, who assisted him, or the Vladika, who acted as Paranymph, will, all +or any of them, give you full details. Your representative made all +inquiries as to Rupert Sent Leger, who lived in Vissarion, though he did +not know who I was, or from his point of view who I had been. But I +must tell you of my rescue.”</p> +<p>And so she went on to tell me of that unavailing journey south by her +captors; of their bafflement by the cordon which Rupert had established at +the first word of danger to “the daughter of our leader,” +though he little knew who the “leader” was, or who was his +“daughter”; of how the brutal marauders tortured her to speed +with their daggers; and how her wounds left blood-marks on the ground as +she passed along; then of the halt in the valley, when the marauders came +to know that their road north was menaced, if not already blocked; of the +choosing of the murderers, and their keeping ward over her whilst their +companions went to survey the situation; and of her gallant rescue by that +noble fellow, her husband—my son I shall call him henceforth, and +thank God that I may have that happiness and that honour!</p> +<p>Then my daughter went on to tell me of the race back to Vissarion, when +Rupert went ahead of all—as a leader should do; of the summoning of +the Archbishop and the National Council; and of their placing the +nation’s handjar in Rupert’s hand; of the journey to Ilsin, and +the flight of my daughter—and my son—on the aeroplane.</p> +<p>The rest I knew.</p> +<p>As she finished, the sleeping man stirred and woke—broad awake in +a second—sure sign of a man accustomed to campaign and +adventure. At a glance he recalled everything that had been, and +sprang to his feet. He stood respectfully before me for a few seconds +before speaking. Then he said, with an open, engaging smile:</p> +<p>“I see, sir, you know all. Am I forgiven—for +Teuta’s sake as well as my own?” By this time I was also +on my feet. A man like that walks straight into my heart. My +daughter, too, had risen, and stood by my side. I put out my hand and +grasped his, which seemed to leap to meet me—as only the hand of a +swordsman can do.</p> +<p>“I am glad you are my son!” I said. It was all I could +say, and I meant it and all it implied. We shook hands warmly. +Teuta was pleased; she kissed me, and then stood holding my arm with one +hand, whilst she linked her other hand in the arm of her husband.</p> +<p>He summoned one of the sentries without, and told him to ask Captain +Rooke to come to him. The latter had been ready for a call, and came +at once. When through the open flap of the tent we saw him coming, +Rupert—as I must call him now, because Teuta wishes it; and I like to +do it myself—said:</p> +<p>“I must be off to board the Turkish vessel before it comes +inshore. Good-bye, sir, in case we do not meet again.” He +said the last few words in so low a voice that I only could hear +them. Then he kissed his wife, and told her he expected to be back in +time for breakfast, and was gone. He met Rooke—I am hardly +accustomed to call him Captain as yet, though, indeed, he well deserves +it—at the edge of the cordon of sentries, and they went quickly +together towards the port, where the yacht was lying with steam up.</p> +<h2>BOOK VII: THE EMPIRE OF THE AIR</h2> +<h3>FROM THE REPORT OF CRISTOFEROS, WAR-SCRIBE TO THE NATIONAL +COUNCIL.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 7, 1907.</p> +<p>When the Gospodar Rupert and Captain Rooke came within hailing distance +of the strange ship, the former hailed her, using one after another the +languages of England, Germany, France, Russia, Turkey, Greece, Spain, +Portugal, and another which I did not know; I think it must have been +American. By this time the whole line of the bulwark was covered by a +row of Turkish faces. When, in Turkish, the Gospodar asked for the +Captain, the latter came to the gangway, which had been opened, and stood +there. His uniform was that of the Turkish navy—of that I am +prepared to swear—but he made signs of not understanding what had +been said; whereupon the Gospodar spoke again, but in French this +time. I append the exact conversation which took place, none other +joining in it. I took down in shorthand the words of both as they +were spoken:</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Gospodar</span>. “Are you the +Captain of this ship?”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Captain</span>. “I am.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span>. “To what nationality do +you belong?”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span>. “It matters not. I +am Captain of this ship.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span>. “I alluded to your +ship. What national flag is she under?”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>throwing his eye over the +top-hamper</i>). “I do not see that any flag is +flying.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span>. “I take it that, as +commander, you can allow me on board with my two companions?”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span>. “I can, upon proper +request being made!”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span> (<i>taking off his cap</i>). +“I ask your courtesy, Captain. I am the representative and +accredited officer of the National Council of the Land of the Blue +Mountains, in whose waters you now are; and on their account I ask for a +formal interview on urgent matters.”</p> +<p>The Turk, who was, I am bound to say, in manner most courteous as yet, +gave some command to his officers, whereupon the companion-ladders and +stage were lowered and the gangway manned, as is usual for the reception on +a ship of war of an honoured guest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span>. “You are welcome, +sir—you and your two companions—as you request.”</p> +<p>The Gospodar bowed. Our companion-ladder was rigged on the +instant, and a launch lowered. The Gospodar and Captain +Rooke—taking me with them—entered, and rowed to the warship, +where we were all honourably received. There were an immense number +of men on board, soldiers as well as seamen. It looked more like a +warlike expedition than a fighting-ship in time of peace. As we +stepped on the deck, the seamen and marines, who were all armed as at +drill, presented arms. The Gospodar went first towards the Captain, +and Captain Rooke and I followed close behind him. The Gospodar +spoke:</p> +<p>“I am Rupert Sent Leger, a subject of his Britannic Majesty, +presently residing at Vissarion, in the Land of the Blue Mountains. I +am at present empowered to act for the National Council in all +matters. Here is my credential!” As he spoke he handed to +the Captain a letter. It was written in five different +languages—Balkan, Turkish, Greek, English, and French. The +Captain read it carefully all through, forgetful for the moment that he had +seemingly been unable to understand the Gospodar’s question spoken in +the Turkish tongue. Then he answered:</p> +<p>“I see the document is complete. May I ask on what subject +you wish to see me?”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span>. “You are here in a ship +of war in Blue Mountain waters, yet you fly no flag of any nation. +You have sent armed men ashore in your boats, thus committing an act of +war. The National Council of the Land of the Blue Mountains requires +to know what nation you serve, and why the obligations of international law +are thus broken.”</p> +<p>The Captain seemed to wait for further speech, but the Gospodar remained +silent; whereupon the former spoke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span>. “I am responsible to my +own—chiefs. I refuse to answer your question.”</p> +<p>The Gospodar spoke at once in reply.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span>. “Then, sir, you, as +commander of a ship—and especially a ship of war—must know that +in thus violating national and maritime laws you, and all on board this +ship, are guilty of an act of piracy. This is not even piracy on the +high seas. You are not merely within territorial waters, but you have +invaded a national port. As you refuse to disclose the nationality of +your ship, I accept, as you seem to do, your status as that of a pirate, +and shall in due season act accordingly.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>with manifest +hostility</i>). “I accept the responsibility of my own +acts. Without admitting your contention, I tell you now that whatever +action you take shall be at your own peril and that of your National +Council. Moreover, I have reason to believe that my men who were sent +ashore on special service have been beleaguered in a tower which can be +seen from the ship. Before dawn this morning firing was heard from +that direction, from which I gather that attack was made on them. +They, being only a small party, may have been murdered. If such be +so, I tell you that you and your miserable little nation, as you call it, +shall pay such blood-money as you never thought of. I am responsible +for this, and, by Allah! there shall be a great revenge. You have not +in all your navy—if navy you have at all—power to cope with +even one ship like this, which is but one of many. My guns shall be +trained on Ilsin, to which end I have come inshore. You and your +companions have free conduct back to port; such is due to the white flag +which you fly. Fifteen minutes will bring you back whence you +came. Go! And remember that whatever you may do amongst your +mountain defiles, at sea you cannot even defend yourselves.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span> (<i>slowly and in a ringing +voice</i>). “The Land of the Blue Mountains has its own +defences on sea and land. Its people know how to defend +themselves.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>taking out his watch</i>). +“It is now close on five bells. At the first stroke of six +bells our guns shall open fire.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gospodar</span> (<i>calmly</i>). “It is +my last duty to warn you, sir—and to warn all on this ship—that +much may happen before even the first stroke of six bells. Be warned +in time, and give over this piratical attack, the very threat of which may +be the cause of much bloodshed.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>violently</i>). “Do +you dare to threaten me, and, moreover, my ship’s company? We +are one, I tell you, in this ship; and the last man shall perish like the +first ere this enterprise fail. Go!”</p> +<p>With a bow, the Gospodar turned and went down the ladder, we following +him. In a couple of minutes the yacht was on her way to the port.</p> +<h3>FROM RUPERT’S JOURNAL.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 10, 1907.</p> +<p>When we turned shoreward after my stormy interview with the pirate +Captain—I can call him nothing else at present, Rooke gave orders to +a quartermaster on the bridge, and <i>The Lady</i> began to make to a +little northward of Ilsin port. Rooke himself went aft to the +wheel-house, taking several men with him.</p> +<p>When we were quite near the rocks—the water is so deep here that +there is no danger—we slowed down, merely drifting along southwards +towards the port. I was myself on the bridge, and could see all over +the decks. I could also see preparations going on upon the +warship. Ports were opened, and the great guns on the turrets were +lowered for action. When we were starboard broadside on to the +warship, I saw the port side of the steering-house open, and Rooke’s +men sliding out what looked like a huge grey crab, which by tackle from +within the wheel-house was lowered softly into the sea. The position +of the yacht hid the operation from sight of the warship. The doors +were shut again, and the yacht’s pace began to quicken. We ran +into the port. I had a vague idea that Rooke had some desperate +project on hand. Not for nothing had he kept the wheel-house locked +on that mysterious crab.</p> +<p>All along the frontage was a great crowd of eager men. But they +had considerately left the little mole at the southern entrance, whereon +was a little tower, on whose round top a signal-gun was placed, free for my +own use. When I was landed on this pier I went along to the end, and, +climbing the narrow stair within, went out on the sloping roof. I +stood up, for I was determined to show the Turks that I was not afraid for +myself, as they would understand when the bombardment should begin. +It was now but a very few minutes before the fatal hour—six +bells. But all the same I was almost in a state of despair. It +was terrible to think of all those poor souls in the town who had done +nothing wrong, and who were to be wiped out in the coming blood-thirsty, +wanton attack. I raised my glasses to see how preparations were going +on upon the warship.</p> +<p>As I looked I had a momentary fear that my eyesight was giving +way. At one moment I had the deck of the warship focussed with my +glasses, and could see every detail as the gunners waited for the word to +begin the bombardment with the great guns of the barbettes. The next +I saw nothing but the empty sea. Then in another instant there was +the ship as before, but the details were blurred. I steadied myself +against the signal-gun, and looked again. Not more than two, or at +the most three, seconds had elapsed. The ship was, for the moment, +full in view. As I looked, she gave a queer kind of quick shiver, +prow and stern, and then sideways. It was for all the world like a +rat shaken in the mouth of a skilled terrier. Then she remained +still, the one placid thing to be seen, for all around her the sea seemed +to shiver in little independent eddies, as when water is broken without a +current to guide it.</p> +<p>I continued to look, and when the deck was, or seemed, quite +still—for the shivering water round the ship kept catching my eyes +through the outer rays of the lenses—I noticed that nothing was +stirring. The men who had been at the guns were all lying down; the +men in the fighting-tops had leaned forward or backward, and their arms +hung down helplessly. Everywhere was desolation—in so far as +life was concerned. Even a little brown bear, which had been seated +on the cannon which was being put into range position, had jumped or fallen +on deck, and lay there stretched out—and still. It was evident +that some terrible shock had been given to the mighty war-vessel. +Without a doubt or a thought why I did so, I turned my eyes towards where +<i>The Lady</i> lay, port broadside now to the inside, in the harbour +mouth. I had the key now to the mystery of Rooke’s proceedings +with the great grey crab.</p> +<p>As I looked I saw just outside the harbour a thin line of cleaving +water. This became more marked each instant, till a steel disc with +glass eyes that shone in the light of the sun rose above the water. +It was about the size of a beehive, and was shaped like one. It made +a straight line for the aft of the yacht. At the same moment, in +obedience to some command, given so quietly that I did not hear it, the men +went below—all save some few, who began to open out doors in the port +side of the wheel-house. The tackle was run out through an opened +gangway on that side, and a man stood on the great hook at the lower end, +balancing himself by hanging on the chain. In a few seconds he came +up again. The chain tightened and the great grey crab rose over the +edge of the deck, and was drawn into the wheel-house, the doors of which +were closed, shutting in a few only of the men.</p> +<p>I waited, quite quiet. After a space of a few minutes, Captain +Rooke in his uniform walked out of the wheel-house. He entered a +small boat, which had been in the meantime lowered for the purpose, and was +rowed to the steps on the mole. Ascending these, he came directly +towards the signal-tower. When he had ascended and stood beside me, +he saluted.</p> +<p>“Well?” I asked.</p> +<p>“All well, sir,” he answered. “We shan’t +have any more trouble with that lot, I think. You warned that +pirate—I wish he had been in truth a clean, honest, straightforward +pirate, instead of the measly Turkish swab he was—that something +might occur before the first stroke of six bells. Well, something has +occurred, and for him and all his crew that six bells will never +sound. So the Lord fights for the Cross against the Crescent! +Bismillah. Amen!” He said this in a manifestly formal +way, as though declaiming a ritual. The next instant he went on in +the thoroughly practical conventional way which was usual to him:</p> +<p>“May I ask a favour, Mr. Sent Leger?”</p> +<p>“A thousand, my dear Rooke,” I said. “You +can’t ask me anything which I shall not freely grant. And I +speak within my brief from the National Council. You have saved Ilsin +this day, and the Council will thank you for it in due time.”</p> +<p>“Me, sir?” he said, with a look of surprise on his face +which seemed quite genuine. “If you think that, I am well out +of it. I was afraid, when I woke, that you might court-martial +me!”</p> +<p>“Court-martial you! What for?” I asked, surprised in +my turn.</p> +<p>“For going to sleep on duty, sir! And the fact is, I was +worn out in the attack on the Silent Tower last night, and when you had +your interview with the pirate—all good pirates forgive me for the +blasphemy! Amen!—and I knew that everything was going smoothly, +I went into the wheel-house and took forty winks.” He said all +this without moving so much as an eyelid, from which I gathered that he +wished absolute silence to be observed on my part. Whilst I was +revolving this in my mind he went on:</p> +<p>“Touching that request, sir. When I have left you and the +Voivode—and the Voivodin, of course—at Vissarion, together with +such others as you may choose to bring there with you, may I bring the +yacht back here for a spell? I rather think that there is a good deal +of cleaning up to be done, and the crew of <i>The Lady</i> with myself are +the men to do it. We shall be back by nightfall at the +creek.”</p> +<p>“Do as you think best, Admiral Rooke,” I said.</p> +<p>“Admiral?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Admiral. At present I can only say that tentatively, +but by to-morrow I am sure the National Council will have confirmed +it. I am afraid, old friend, that your squadron will be only your +flagship for the present; but later we may do better.”</p> +<p>“So long as I am Admiral, your honour, I shall have no other +flagship than <i>The Lady</i>. I am not a young man, but, young or +old, my pennon shall float over no other deck. Now, one other favour, +Mr. Sent Leger? It is a corollary of the first, so I do not hesitate +to ask. May I appoint Lieutenant Desmond, my present First Officer, +to the command of the battleship? Of course, he will at first only +command the prize crew; but in such case he will fairly expect the +confirmation of his rank later. I had better, perhaps, tell you, sir, +that he is a very capable seaman, learned in all the sciences that pertain +to a battleship, and bred in the first navy in the world.”</p> +<p>“By all means, Admiral. Your nomination shall, I think I may +promise you, be confirmed.”</p> +<p>Not another word we spoke. I returned with him in his boat to +<i>The Lady</i>, which was brought to the dock wall, where we were received +with tumultuous cheering.</p> +<p>I hurried off to my Wife and the Voivode. Rooke, calling Desmond +to him, went on the bridge of <i>The Lady</i>, which turned, and went out +at terrific speed to the battleship, which was already drifting up +northward on the tide.</p> +<h3>FROM THE REPORT OF CRISTOFEROS, SCRIBE OF THE NATIONAL COUNCIL OF THE +LAND OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 8, 1907.</p> +<p>The meeting of the National Council, July 6, was but a continuation of +that held before the rescue of the Voivodin Vissarion, the members of the +Council having been during the intervening night housed in the Castle of +Vissarion. When, in the early morning, they met, all were jubilant; +for late at night the fire-signal had flamed up from Ilsin with the glad +news that the Voivode Peter Vissarion was safe, having been rescued with +great daring on an aeroplane by his daughter and the Gospodar Rupert, as +the people call him—Mister Rupert Sent Leger, as he is in his British +name and degree.</p> +<p>Whilst the Council was sitting, word came that a great peril to the town +of Ilsin had been averted. A war-vessel acknowledging to no +nationality, and therefore to be deemed a pirate, had threatened to bombard +the town; but just before the time fixed for the fulfilment of her threat, +she was shaken to such an extent by some sub-aqueous means that, though she +herself was seemingly uninjured, nothing was left alive on board. +Thus the Lord preserves His own! The consideration of this, as well +as the other incident, was postponed until the coming Voivode and the +Gospodar Rupert, together with who were already on their way hither.</p> +<h3>THE SAME (LATER IN THE SAME DAY).</h3> +<p>The Council resumed its sitting at four o’clock. The Voivode +Peter Vissarion and the Voivodin Teuta had arrived with the “Gospodar +Rupert,” as the mountaineers call him (Mr. Rupert Sent Leger) on the +armoured yacht he calls <i>The Lady</i>. The National Council showed +great pleasure when the Voivode entered the hall in which the Council +met. He seemed much gratified by the reception given to him. +Mr. Rupert Sent Leger, by the express desire of the Council, was asked to +be present at the meeting. He took a seat at the bottom of the hall, +and seemed to prefer to remain there, though asked by the President of the +Council to sit at the top of the table with himself and the Voivode.</p> +<p>When the formalities of such Councils had been completed, the Voivode +handed to the President a memorandum of his report on his secret mission to +foreign Courts on behalf of the National Council. He then explained +at length, for the benefit of the various members of the Council, the broad +results of his mission. The result was, he said, absolutely +satisfactory. Everywhere he had been received with distinguished +courtesy, and given a sympathetic hearing. Several of the Powers +consulted had made delay in giving final answers, but this, he explained, +was necessarily due to new considerations arising from the international +complications which were universally dealt with throughout the world as +“the Balkan Crisis.” In time, however (the Voivode went +on), these matters became so far declared as to allow the waiting Powers to +form definite judgment—which, of course, they did not declare to +him—as to their own ultimate action. The final result—if +at this initial stage such tentative setting forth of their own attitude in +each case can be so named—was that he returned full of hope (founded, +he might say, upon a justifiable personal belief) that the Great Powers +throughout the world—North, South, East, and West—were in +thorough sympathy with the Land of the Blue Mountains in its aspirations +for the continuance of its freedom. “I also am honoured,” +he continued, “to bring to you, the Great Council of the nation, the +assurance of protection against unworthy aggression on the part of +neighbouring nations of present greater strength.”</p> +<p>Whilst he was speaking, the Gospodar Rupert was writing a few words on a +strip of paper, which he sent up to the President. When the Voivode +had finished speaking, there was a prolonged silence. The President +rose, and in a hush said that the Council would like to hear Mr. Rupert +Sent Leger, who had a communication to make regarding certain recent +events.</p> +<p>Mr. Rupert Sent Leger rose, and reported how, since he had been +entrusted by the Council with the rescue of the Voivode Peter of Vissarion, +he had, by aid of the Voivodin, effected the escape of the Voivode from the +Silent Tower; also that, following this happy event, the mountaineers, who +had made a great cordon round the Tower so soon as it was known that the +Voivode had been imprisoned within it, had stormed it in the night. +As a determined resistance was offered by the marauders, who had used it as +a place of refuge, none of these escaped. He then went on to tell how +he sought interview with the Captain of the strange warship, which, without +flying any flag, invaded our waters. He asked the President to call +on me to read the report of that meeting. This, in obedience to his +direction, I did. The acquiescent murmuring of the Council showed how +thoroughly they endorsed Mr. Sent Leger’s words and acts.</p> +<p>When I resumed my seat, Mr. Sent Leger described how, just before the +time fixed by the “pirate Captain”—so he designated him, +as did every speaker thereafter—the warship met with some under-sea +accident, which had a destructive effect on all on board her. Then he +added certain words, which I give verbatim, as I am sure that others will +some time wish to remember them in their exactness:</p> +<p>“By the way, President and Lords of the Council, I trust I may ask +you to confirm Captain Rooke, of the armoured yacht <i>The Lady</i>, to be +Admiral of the Squadron of the Land of the Blue Mountains, and also Captain +(tentatively) Desmond, late First-Lieutenant of <i>The Lady</i>, to the +command of the second warship of our fleet—the as yet unnamed vessel, +whose former Captain threatened to bombard Ilsin. My Lords, Admiral +Rooke has done great service to the Land of the Blue Mountains, and +deserves well at your hands. You will have in him, I am sure, a great +official. One who will till his last breath give you good and loyal +service.”</p> +<p>He had sat down, the President put to the Council resolutions, which +were passed by acclamation. Admiral Rooke was given command of the +navy, and Captain Desmond confirmed in his appointment to the captaincy of +the new ship, which was, by a further resolution, named <i>The Gospodar +Rupert</i>.</p> +<p>In thanking the Council for acceding to his request, and for the great +honour done him in the naming of the ship, Mr. Sent Leger said:</p> +<p>“May I ask that the armoured yacht <i>The Lady</i> be accepted by +you, the National Council, on behalf of the nation, as a gift on behalf of +the cause of freedom from the Voivodin Teuta?”</p> +<p>In response to the mighty cheer of the Council with which the splendid +gift was accepted the Gospodar Rupert—Mr. Sent Leger—bowed, and +went quietly out of the room.</p> +<p>As no agenda of the meeting had been prepared, there was for a time, not +silence, but much individual conversation. In the midst of it the +Voivode rose up, whereupon there was a strict silence. All listened +with an intensity of eagerness whilst he spoke.</p> +<p>“President and Lords of the Council, Archbishop, and Vladika, I +should but ill show my respect did I hesitate to tell you at this the first +opportunity I have had of certain matters personal primarily to myself, but +which, in the progress of recent events, have come to impinge on the +affairs of the nation. Until I have done so, I shall not feel that I +have done a duty, long due to you or your predecessors in office, and which +I hope you will allow me to say that I have only kept back for purposes of +statecraft. May I ask that you will come back with me in memory to +the year 1890, when our struggle against Ottoman aggression, later on so +successfully brought to a close, was begun. We were then in a +desperate condition. Our finances had run so low that we could not +purchase even the bread which we required. Nay, more, we could not +procure through the National Exchequer what we wanted more than +bread—arms of modern effectiveness; for men may endure hunger and yet +fight well, as the glorious past of our country has proved again and again +and again. But when our foes are better armed than we are, the +penalty is dreadful to a nation small as our own is in number, no matter +how brave their hearts. In this strait I myself had to secretly raise +a sufficient sum of money to procure the weapons we needed. To this +end I sought the assistance of a great merchant-prince, to whom our nation +as well as myself was known. He met me in the same generous spirit +which he had shown to other struggling nationalities throughout a long and +honourable career. When I pledged to him as security my own estates, +he wished to tear up the bond, and only under pressure would he meet my +wishes in this respect. Lords of the Council, it was his money, thus +generously advanced, which procured for us the arms with which we hewed out +our freedom.</p> +<p>“Not long ago that noble merchant—and here I trust you will +pardon me that I am so moved as to perhaps appear to suffer in want of +respect to this great Council—this noble merchant passed to his +account—leaving to a near kinsman of his own the royal fortune which +he had amassed. Only a few hours ago that worthy kinsman of the +benefactor of our nation made it known to me that in his last will he had +bequeathed to me, by secret trust, the whole of those estates which long +ago I had forfeited by effluxion of time, inasmuch as I had been unable to +fulfil the terms of my voluntary bond. It grieves me to think that I +have had to keep you so long in ignorance of the good thought and wishes +and acts of this great man.</p> +<p>“But it was by his wise counsel, fortified by my own judgment, +that I was silent; for, indeed, I feared, as he did, lest in our troublous +times some doubting spirit without our boundaries, or even within it, might +mistrust the honesty of my purposes for public good, because I was no +longer one whose whole fortune was invested within our confines. This +prince-merchant, the great English Roger Melton—let his name be for +ever graven on the hearts of our people!—kept silent during his own +life, and enjoined on others to come after him to keep secret from the men +of the Blue Mountains that secret loan made to me on their behalf, lest in +their eyes I, who had striven to be their friend and helper, should suffer +wrong repute. But, happily, he has left me free to clear myself in +your eyes. Moreover, by arranging to have—under certain +contingencies, which have come to pass—the estates which were +originally my own retransferred to me, I have no longer the honour of +having given what I could to the national cause. All such now belongs +to him; for it was his money—and his only—which purchased our +national armament.</p> +<p>“His worthy kinsman you already know, for he has not only been +amongst you for many months, but has already done you good service in his +own person. He it was who, as a mighty warrior, answered the summons +of the Vladika when misfortune came upon my house in the capture by enemies +of my dear daughter, the Voivodin Teuta, whom you hold in your hearts; who, +with a chosen band of our brothers, pursued the marauders, and himself, by +a deed of daring and prowess, of which poets shall hereafter sing, saved +her, when hope itself seemed to be dead, from their ruthless hands, and +brought her back to us; who administered condign punishment to the +miscreants who had dared to so wrong her. He it was who later took +me, your servant, out of the prison wherein another band of Turkish +miscreants held me captive; rescued me, with the help of my dear daughter, +whom he had already freed, whilst I had on my person the documents of +international secrecy of which I have already advised you—rescued me +whilst I had been as yet unsubjected to the indignity of search.</p> +<p>“Beyond this you know now that of which I was in partial +ignorance: how he had, through the skill and devotion of your new Admiral, +wrought destruction on a hecatomb of our malignant foes. You who have +received for the nation the splendid gift of the little warship, which +already represents a new era in naval armament, can understand the +great-souled generosity of the man who has restored the vast possessions of +my House. On our way hither from Ilsin, Rupert Sent Leger made known +to me the terms of the trust of his noble uncle, Roger Melton, +and—believe me that he did so generously, with a joy that transcended +my own—restored to the last male of the Vissarion race the whole +inheritance of a noble line.</p> +<p>“And now, my Lords of the Council, I come to another matter, in +which I find myself in something of a difficulty, for I am aware that in +certain ways you actually know more of it than even I myself do. It +is regarding the marriage of my daughter to Rupert Sent Leger. It is +known to me that the matter has been brought before you by the Archbishop, +who, as guardian of my daughter during my absence on the service of the +nation, wished to obtain your sanction, as till my return he held her +safety in trust. This was so, not from any merit of mine, but because +she, in her own person, had undertaken for the service of our nation a task +of almost incredible difficulty. My Lords, were she child of another +father, I should extol to the skies her bravery, her self-devotion, her +loyalty to the land she loves. Why, then, should I hesitate to speak +of her deeds in fitting terms, since it is my duty, my glory, to hold them +in higher honour than can any in this land? I shall not shame +her—or even myself—by being silent when such a duty urges me to +speak, as Voivode, as trusted envoy of our nation, as father. Ages +hence loyal men and women of our Land of the Blue Mountains will sing her +deeds in song and tell them in story. Her name, Teuta, already sacred +in these regions, where it was held by a great Queen, and honoured by all +men, will hereafter be held as a symbol and type of woman’s +devotion. Oh, my Lords, we pass along the path of life, the best of +us but a little time marching in the sunlight between gloom and gloom, and +it is during that march that we must be judged for the future. This +brave woman has won knightly spurs as well as any Paladin of old. So +is it meet that ere she might mate with one worthy of her you, who hold in +your hands the safety and honour of the State, should give your +approval. To you was it given to sit in judgment on the worth of this +gallant Englisher, now my son. You judged him then, before you had +seen his valour, his strength, and skill exercised on behalf of a national +cause. You judged wisely, oh, my brothers, and out of a grateful +heart I thank you one and all for it. Well has he justified your +trust by his later acts. When, in obedience to the summons of the +Vladika, he put the nation in a blaze and ranged our boundaries with a ring +of steel, he did so unknowing that what was dearest to him in the world was +at stake. He saved my daughter’s honour and happiness, and won +her safety by an act of valour that outvies any told in history. He +took my daughter with him to bring me out from the Silent Tower on the +wings of the air, when earth had for me no possibility of freedom—I, +that had even then in my possession the documents involving other nations +which the Soldan would fain have purchased with the half of his empire.</p> +<p>“Henceforth to me, Lords of the Council, this brave man must ever +be as a son of my heart, and I trust that in his name grandsons of my own +may keep in bright honour the name which in glorious days of old my fathers +made illustrious. Did I know how adequately to thank you for your +interest in my child, I would yield up to you my very soul in +thanks.”</p> +<p>The speech of the Voivode was received with the honour of the Blue +Mountains—the drawing and raising of handjars.</p> +<h3>FROM RUPERT’S JOURNAL.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 14, 1907.</p> +<p>For nearly a week we waited for some message from Constantinople, fully +expecting either a declaration of war, or else some inquiry so couched as +to make war an inevitable result. The National Council remained on at +Vissarion as the guests of the Voivode, to whom, in accordance with my +uncle’s will, I had prepared to re-transfer all his estates. He +was, by the way, unwilling at first to accept, and it was only when I +showed him Uncle Roger’s letter, and made him read the Deed of +Transfer prepared in anticipation by Mr. Trent, that he allowed me to +persuade him. Finally he said:</p> +<p>“As you, my good friends, have so arranged, I must accept, be it +only in honour to the wishes of the dead. But remember, I only do so +but for the present, reserving to myself the freedom to withdraw later if I +so desire.”</p> +<p>But Constantinople was silent. The whole nefarious scheme was one +of the “put-up jobs” which are part of the dirty work of a +certain order of statecraft—to be accepted if successful; to be +denied in case of failure.</p> +<p>The matter stood thus: Turkey had thrown the dice—and lost. +Her men were dead; her ship was forfeit. It was only some ten days +after the warship was left derelict with every living thing—that is, +everything that had been living—with its neck broken, as Rooke +informed me, when he brought the ship down the creek, and housed it in the +dock behind the armoured gates—that we saw an item in <i>The Roma</i> +copied from <i>The Constantinople Journal</i> of July 9:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“LOSS OF AN OTTOMAN IRONCLAD WITH ALL HANDS.</p> +<p>“News has been received at Constantinople of the total loss, with +all hands, of one of the newest and finest warships in the Turkish +fleet—<i>The Mahmoud</i>, Captain Ali Ali—which foundered in a +storm on the night of July 5, some distance off Cabrera, in the Balearic +Isles. There were no survivors, and no wreckage was discovered by the +ships which went in relief—the <i>Pera</i> and the +<i>Mustapha</i>—or reported from anywhere along the shores of the +islands, of which exhaustive search was made. <i>The Mahmoud</i> was +double-manned, as she carried a full extra crew sent on an educational +cruise on the most perfectly scientifically equipped warship on service in +the Mediterranean waters.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the Voivode and I talked over the matter, he said:</p> +<p>“After all, Turkey is a shrewd Power. She certainly seems to +know when she is beaten, and does not intend to make a bad thing seem worse +in the eyes of the world.”</p> +<p>Well, ’tis a bad wind that blows good to nobody. As <i>The +Mahmoud</i> was lost off the Balearics, it cannot have been her that put +the marauders on shore and trained her big guns on Ilsin. We take it, +therefore, that the latter must have been a pirate, and as we have taken +her derelict in our waters, she is now ours in all ways. Anyhow, she +is ours, and is the first ship of her class in the navy of the Blue +Mountains. I am inclined to think that even if she was—or is +still—a Turkish ship, Admiral Rooke would not be inclined to let her +go. As for Captain Desmond, I think he would go straight out of his +mind if such a thing was to be even suggested to him.</p> +<p>It will be a pity if we have any more trouble, for life here is very +happy with us all now. The Voivode is, I think, like a man in a +dream. Teuta is ideally happy, and the real affection which sprang up +between them when she and Aunt Janet met is a joy to think of. I had +posted Teuta about her, so that when they should meet my wife might not, by +any inadvertence, receive or cause any pain. But the moment Teuta saw +her she ran straight over to her and lifted her in her strong young arms, +and, raising her up as one would lift a child, kissed her. Then, when +she had put her sitting in the chair from which she had arisen when we +entered the room, she knelt down before her, and put her face down in her +lap. Aunt Janet’s face was a study; I myself could hardly say +whether at the first moment surprise or joy predominated. But there +could be no doubt about it the instant after. She seemed to beam with +happiness. When Teuta knelt to her, she could only say:</p> +<p>“My dear, my dear, I am glad! Rupert’s wife, you and I +must love each other very much.” Seeing that they were laughing +and crying in each other’s arms, I thought it best to come away and +leave them alone. And I didn’t feel a bit lonely either when I +was out of sight of them. I knew that where those two dear women were +there was a place for my own heart.</p> +<p>When I came back, Teuta was sitting on Aunt Janet’s knee. It +seemed rather stupendous for the old lady, for Teuta is such a splendid +creature that even when she sits on my own knee and I catch a glimpse of us +in some mirror, I cannot but notice what a nobly-built girl she is.</p> +<p>My wife was jumping up as soon as I was seen, but Aunt Janet held her +tight to her, and said:</p> +<p>“Don’t stir, dear. It is such happiness to me to have +you there. Rupert has always been my ‘little boy,’ and, +in spite of all his being such a giant, he is so still. And so you, +that he loves, must be my little girl—in spite of all your beauty and +your strength—and sit on my knee, till you can place there a little +one that shall be dear to us all, and that shall let me feel my youth +again. When first I saw you I was surprised, for, somehow, though I +had never seen you nor even heard of you, I seemed to know your face. +Sit where you are, dear. It is only Rupert—and we both love +him.”</p> +<p>Teuta looked at me, flushing rosily; but she sat quiet, and drew the old +lady’s white head on her young breast.</p> +<h3>JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 8, 1907.</p> +<p>I used to think that whenever Rupert should get married or start on the +way to it by getting engaged—I would meet his future wife with +something of the same affection that I have always had for himself. +But I know now that what was really in my mind was <i>jealousy</i>, and +that I was really fighting against my own instincts, and pretending to +myself that I was not jealous. Had I ever had the faintest idea that +she would be anything the least like Teuta, that sort of feeling should +never have had even a foothold. No wonder my dear boy is in love with +her, for, truth to tell, I am in love with her myself. I don’t +think I ever met a creature—a woman creature, of course, I +mean—with so many splendid qualities. I almost fear to say it, +lest it should seem to myself wrong; but I think she is as good as a woman +as Rupert is as a man. And what more than that can I say? I +thought I loved her and trusted her, and knew her all I could, until this +morning.</p> +<p>I was in my own room, as it is still called. For, though Rupert +tells me in confidence that under his uncle’s will the whole estate +of Vissarion, Castle and all, really belongs to the Voivode, and though the +Voivode has been persuaded to accept the position, he (the Voivode) will +not allow anything to be changed. He will not even hear a word of my +going, or changing my room, or anything. And Rupert backs him up in +it, and Teuta too. So what am I to do but let the dears have their +way?</p> +<p>Well, this morning, when Rupert was with the Voivode at a meeting of the +National Council in the Great Hall, Teuta came to me, and (after closing +the door and bolting it, which surprised me a little) came and knelt down +beside me, and put her face in my lap. I stroked her beautiful black +hair, and said:</p> +<p>“What is it, Teuta darling? Is there any trouble? And +why did you bolt the door? Has anything happened to +Rupert?” When she looked up I saw that her beautiful black +eyes, with the stars in them, were overflowing with tears not yet +shed. But she smiled through them, and the tears did not fall. +When I saw her smile my heart was eased, and I said without thinking: +“Thank God, darling, Rupert is all right.”</p> +<p>“I thank God, too, dear Aunt Janet!” she said softly; and I +took her in my arms and laid her head on my breast.</p> +<p>“Go on, dear,” I said; “tell me what it is that +troubles you?” This time I saw the tears drop, as she lowered +her head and hid her face from me.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I have deceived you, Aunt Janet, and that you +will not—cannot—forgive me.”</p> +<p>“Lord save you, child!” I said, “there’s nothing +that you could do that I could not and would not forgive. Not that +you would ever do anything base, for that is the only thing that is hard to +forgive. Tell me now what troubles you.”</p> +<p>She looked up in my eyes fearlessly, this time with only the signs of +tears that had been, and said proudly:</p> +<p>“Nothing base, Aunt Janet. My father’s daughter would +not willingly be base. I do not think she could. Moreover, had +I ever done anything base I should not be here, for—for—I +should never have been Rupert’s wife!”</p> +<p>“Then what is it? Tell your old Aunt Janet, +dearie.” She answered me with another question:</p> +<p>“Aunt Janet, do you know who I am, and how I first met +Rupert?”</p> +<p>“You are the Voivodin Teuta Vissarion—the daughter of the +Voivode—Or, rather, you were; you are now Mrs. Rupert Sent +Leger. For he is still an Englishman, and a good subject of our noble +King.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Aunt Janet,” she said, “I am that, and proud to +be it—prouder than I would be were I my namesake, who was Queen in +the old days. But how and where did I see Rupert first?” +I did not know, and frankly told her so. So she answered her question +herself:</p> +<p>“I saw him first in his own room at night.” I knew in +my heart that in whatever she did had been nothing wrong, so I sat silent +waiting for her to go on:</p> +<p>“I was in danger, and in deadly fear. I was afraid I might +die—not that I fear death—and I wanted help and warmth. I +was not dressed as I am now!”</p> +<p>On the instant it came to me how I knew her face, even the first time I +had seen it. I wished to help her out of the embarrassing part of her +confidence, so I said:</p> +<p>“Dearie, I think I know. Tell me, child, will you put on the +frock . . . the dress . . . costume you wore that night, and let me see you +in it? It is not mere idle curiosity, my child, but something far, +far above such idle folly.”</p> +<p>“Wait for me a minute, Aunt Janet,” she said, as she rose +up; “I shall not be long.” Then she left the room.</p> +<p>In a very few minutes she was back. Her appearance might have +frightened some people, for she was clad only in a shroud. Her feet +were bare, and she walked across the room with the gait of an empress, and +stood before me with her eyes modestly cast down. But when presently +she looked up and caught my eyes, a smile rippled over her face. She +threw herself once more before me on her knees, and embraced me as she +said:</p> +<p>“I was afraid I might frighten you, dear.” I knew I +could truthfully reassure her as to that, so I proceeded to do so:</p> +<p>“Do not worry yourself, my dear. I am not by nature +timid. I come of a fighting stock which has sent out heroes, and I +belong to a family wherein is the gift of Second Sight. Why should we +fear? We know! Moreover, I saw you in that dress before. +Teuta, I saw you and Rupert married!” This time she herself it +was that seemed disconcerted.</p> +<p>“Saw us married! How on earth did you manage to be +there?”</p> +<p>“I was not there. My Seeing was long before! Tell me, +dear, what day, or rather what night, was it that you first saw +Rupert?” She answered sadly:</p> +<p>“I do not know. Alas! I lost count of the days as I +lay in the tomb in that dreary Crypt.”</p> +<p>“Was your—your clothing wet that night?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes. I had to leave the Crypt, for a great flood was out, +and the church was flooded. I had to seek help—warmth—for +I feared I might die. Oh, I was not, as I have told you, afraid of +death. But I had undertaken a terrible task to which I had pledged +myself. It was for my father’s sake, and the sake of the Land, +and I felt that it was a part of my duty to live. And so I lived on, +when death would have been relief. It was to tell you all about this +that I came to your room to-day. But how did you see +me—us—married?”</p> +<p>“Ah, my child!” I answered, “that was before the +marriage took place. The morn after the night that you came in the +wet, when, having been troubled in uncanny dreaming, I came to see if +Rupert was a’richt, I lost remembrance o’ my dreaming, for the +floor was all wet, and that took off my attention. But later, the +morn after Rupert used his fire in his room for the first time, I told him +what I had dreamt; for, lassie, my dear, I saw ye as bride at that +weddin’ in fine lace o’er yer shrood, and orange-flowers and +ithers in yer black hair; an’ I saw the stars in yer bonny +een—the een I love. But oh, my dear, when I saw the shrood, and +kent what it might mean, I expeckit to see the worms crawl round yer +feet. But do ye ask yer man to tell ye what I tell’t him that +morn. ’Twill interest ye to know how the hairt o’ men can +learn by dreams. Has he ever tellt ye aught o’ this?”</p> +<p>“No, dear,” she said simply. “I think that +perhaps he was afraid that one or other of us, if not both, might be upset +by it if he did. You see, he did not tell you anything at all of our +meeting, though I am sure that he will be glad when he knows that we both +know all about it, and have told each other everything.”</p> +<p>That was very sweet of her, and very thoughtful in all ways, so I said +that which I thought would please her best—that is, the truth:</p> +<p>“Ah, lassie, that is what a wife should be—what a wife +should do. Rupert is blessed and happy to have his heart in your +keeping.”</p> +<p>I knew from the added warmth of her kiss what I had said had pleased +her.</p> +<p><i>Letter from Ernest Roger Halbard Melton</i>, <i>Humcroft</i>, +<i>Salop</i>, <i>to Rupert Sent Leger</i>, <i>Vissarion</i>, <i>Land of the +Blue Mountains</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 29, 1907.</p> +<blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Cousin Rupert</span>,</p> +<p>We have heard such glowing accounts of Vissarion that I am coming out to +see you. As you are yourself now a landowner, you will understand +that my coming is not altogether a pleasure. Indeed, it is a duty +first. When my father dies I shall be head of the family—the +family of which Uncle Roger, to whom we were related, was a member. +It is therefore meet and fitting that I should know something of our family +branches and of their Seats. I am not giving you time for much +warning, so am coming on immediately—in fact, I shall arrive almost +as soon as this letter. But I want to catch you in the middle of your +tricks. I hear that the Blue Mountaineer girls are peaches, so +don’t send them <i>all</i> away when you hear I’m coming!</p> +<p>Do send a yacht up to Fiume to meet me. I hear you have all sorts +of craft at Vissarion. The MacSkelpie, I hear, said you received her +as a Queen; so I hope you will do the decent by one of your own flesh and +blood, and the future Head of the House at that. I shan’t bring +much of a retinue with me. <i>I</i> wasn’t made a billionaire +by old Roger, so can only take my modest “man +Friday”—whose name is Jenkinson, and a Cockney at that. +So don’t have too much gold lace and diamond-hilted scimitars about, +like a good chap, or else he’ll want the very worst—his wyges +ryzed. That old image Rooke that came over for Miss McS., and whom by +chance I saw at the attorney man’s, might pilot me down from +Fiume. The old gentleman-by-Act-of-Parliament Mr. Bingham Trent (I +suppose he has hyphened it by this time) told me that Miss McS. said he +“did her proud” when she went over under his charge. I +shall be at Fiume on the evening of Wednesday, and shall stay at the +Europa, which is, I am told, the least indecent hotel in the place. +So you know where to find me, or any of your attendant demons can know, in +case I am to suffer “substituted service.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ernest Roger Halbard Melton</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Letter from Admiral Rooke to the Gospodar Rupert</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>August</i> 1, 1907.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p> +<p>In obedience to your explicit direction that I should meet Mr. Ernest R. +H. Melton at Fiume, and report to you exactly what occurred, “without +keeping anything back,”—as you will remember you said, I beg to +report.</p> +<p>I brought the steam-yacht <i>Trent</i> to Fiume, arriving there on the +morning of Thursday. At 11.30 p.m. I went to meet the train +from St. Peter, due 11.40. It was something late, arriving just as +the clock was beginning to strike midnight. Mr. Melton was on board, +and with him his valet Jenkinson. I am bound to say that he did not +seem very pleased with his journey, and expressed much disappointment at +not seeing Your Honour awaiting him. I explained, as you directed, +that you had to attend with the Voivode Vissarion and the Vladika the +National Council, which met at Plazac, or that otherwise you would have +done yourself the pleasure of coming to meet him. I had, of course, +reserved rooms (the Prince of Wales’s suite), for him at the Re +d’Ungheria, and had waiting the carriage which the proprietor had +provided for the Prince of Wales when he stayed there. Mr. Melton +took his valet with him (on the box-seat), and I followed in a +<i>Stadtwagen</i> with the luggage. When I arrived, I found the +<i>maître d’hôtel</i> in a stupor of concern. The +English nobleman, he said, had found fault with everything, and used to him +language to which he was not accustomed. I quieted him, telling him +that the stranger was probably unused to foreign ways, and assuring him +that Your Honour had every faith in him. He announced himself +satisfied and happy at the assurance. But I noticed that he promptly +put everything in the hands of the headwaiter, telling him to satisfy the +milor at any cost, and then went away to some urgent business in +Vienna. Clever man!</p> +<p>I took Mr. Melton’s orders for our journey in the morning, and +asked if there was anything for which he wished. He simply said to +me:</p> +<p>“Everything is rotten. Go to hell, and shut the door after +you!” His man, who seems a very decent little fellow, though he +is as vain as a peacock, and speaks with a Cockney accent which is simply +terrible, came down the passage after me, and explained “on his +own,” as he expressed it, that his master, “Mr. Ernest,” +was upset by the long journey, and that I was not to mind. I did not +wish to make him uncomfortable, so I explained that I minded nothing except +what Your Honour wished; that the steam-yacht would be ready at 7 a.m.; and +that I should be waiting in the hotel from that time on till Mr. Melton +cared to start, to bring him aboard.</p> +<p>In the morning I waited till the man Jenkinson came and told me that Mr. +Ernest would start at ten. I asked if he would breakfast on board; he +answered that he would take his <i>café-complet</i> at the hotel, +but breakfast on board.</p> +<p>We left at ten, and took the electric pinnace out to the <i>Trent</i>, +which lay, with steam up, in the roads. Breakfast was served on +board, by his orders, and presently he came up on the bridge, where I was +in command. He brought his man Jenkinson with him. Seeing me +there, and not (I suppose) understanding that I was in command, he +unceremoniously ordered me to go on the deck. Indeed, he named a +place much lower. I made a sign of silence to the quartermaster at +the wheel, who had released the spokes, and was going, I feared, to make +some impertinent remark. Jenkinson joined me presently, and said, as +some sort of explanation of his master’s discourtesy (of which he was +manifestly ashamed), if not as an amende:</p> +<p>“The governor is in a hell of a wax this morning.”</p> +<p>When we got in sight of Meleda, Mr. Melton sent for me and asked me +where we were to land. I told him that, unless he wished to the +contrary, we were to run to Vissarion; but that my instructions were to +land at whatever port he wished. Whereupon he told me that he wished +to stay the night at some place where he might be able to see some +“life.” He was pleased to add something, which I presume +he thought jocular, about my being able to “coach” him in such +matters, as doubtless even “an old has-been like you” had still +some sort of an eye for a pretty girl. I told him as respectfully as +I could that I had no knowledge whatever on such subjects, which were +possibly of some interest to younger men, but of none to me. He said +no more; so after waiting for further orders, but without receiving any, I +said:</p> +<p>“I suppose, sir, we shall run to Vissarion?”</p> +<p>“Run to the devil, if you like!” was his reply, as he turned +away. When we arrived in the creek at Vissarion, he seemed much +milder—less aggressive in his manner; but when he heard that you were +detained at Plazac, he got rather “fresh”—I use the +American term—again. I greatly feared there would be a serious +misfortune before we got into the Castle, for on the dock was Julia, the +wife of Michael, the Master of the Wine, who is, as you know, very +beautiful. Mr. Melton seemed much taken with her; and she, being +flattered by the attention of a strange gentleman and Your Honour’s +kinsman, put aside the stand-offishness of most of the Blue Mountain +women. Whereupon Mr. Melton, forgetting himself, took her in his arms +and kissed her. Instantly there was a hubbub. The mountaineers +present drew their handjars, and almost on the instant sudden death +appeared to be amongst us. Happily the men waited as Michael, who had +just arrived on the quay-wall as the outrage took place, ran forward, +wheeling his handjar round his head, and manifestly intending to decapitate +Mr. Melton. On the instant—I am sorry to say it, for it created +a terribly bad effect—Mr. Melton dropped on his knees in a state of +panic. There was just this good use in it—that there was a +pause of a few seconds. During that time the little Cockney valet, +who has the heart of a man in him, literally burst his way forward, and +stood in front of his master in boxing attitude, calling out:</p> +<p>“’Ere, come on, the ’ole lot of ye! ’E +ain’t done no ’arm. He honly kissed the gal, as any man +would. If ye want to cut off somebody’s ’ed, cut off +mine. I ain’t afride!” There was such genuine pluck +in this, and it formed so fine a contrast to the other’s craven +attitude (forgive me, Your Honour; but you want the truth!), that I was +glad he was an Englishman, too. The mountaineers recognized his +spirit, and saluted with their handjars, even Michael amongst the +number. Half turning his head, the little man said in a fierce +whisper:</p> +<p>“Buck up, guv’nor! Get up, or they’ll slice +ye! ’Ere’s Mr. Rooke; ’e’ll see ye through +it.”</p> +<p>By this time the men were amenable to reason, and when I reminded them +that Mr. Melton was Your Honour’s cousin, they put aside their +handjars and went about their work. I asked Mr. Melton to follow, and +led the way to the Castle.</p> +<p>When we got close to the great entrance within the walled courtyard, we +found a large number of the servants gathered, and with them many of the +mountaineers, who have kept an organized guard all round the Castle ever +since the abducting of the Voivodin. As both Your Honour and the +Voivode were away at Plazac, the guard had for the time been doubled. +When the steward came and stood in the doorway, the servants stood off +somewhat, and the mountaineers drew back to the farther sides and angles of +the courtyard. The Voivodin had, of course, been informed of the +guest’s (your cousin) coming, and came to meet him in the old custom +of the Blue Mountains. As Your Honour only came to the Blue Mountains +recently, and as no occasion has been since then of illustrating the custom +since the Voivode was away, and the Voivodin then believed to be dead, +perhaps I, who have lived here so long, may explain:</p> +<p>When to an old Blue Mountain house a guest comes whom it is wished to do +honour, the Lady, as in the vernacular the mistress of the house is called, +comes herself to meet the guest at the door—or, rather, +<i>outside</i> the door—so that she can herself conduct him +within. It is a pretty ceremony, and it is said that of old in kingly +days the monarch always set much store by it. The custom is that, +when she approaches the honoured guest (he need not be royal), she +bends—or more properly kneels—before him and kisses his +hand. It has been explained by historians that the symbolism is that +the woman, showing obedience to her husband, as the married woman of the +Blue Mountains always does, emphasizes that obedience to her +husband’s guest. The custom is always observed in its largest +formality when a young wife receives for the first time a guest, and +especially one whom her husband wishes to honour. The Voivodin was, +of course, aware that Mr. Melton was your kinsman, and naturally wished to +make the ceremony of honour as marked as possible, so as to show overtly +her sense of her husband’s worth.</p> +<p>When we came into the courtyard, I held back, of course, for the honour +is entirely individual, and is never extended to any other, no matter how +worthy he may be. Naturally Mr. Melton did not know the etiquette of +the situation, and so for that is not to be blamed. He took his valet +with him when, seeing someone coming to the door, he went forward. I +thought he was going to rush to his welcomer. Such, though not in the +ritual, would have been natural in a young kinsman wishing to do honour to +the bride of his host, and would to anyone have been both understandable +and forgivable. It did not occur to me at the time, but I have since +thought that perhaps he had not then heard of Your Honour’s marriage, +which I trust you will, in justice to the young gentleman, bear in mind +when considering the matter. Unhappily, however, he did not show any +such eagerness. On the contrary, he seemed to make a point of showing +indifference. It seemed to me myself that he, seeing somebody wishing +to make much of him, took what he considered a safe opportunity of +restoring to himself his own good opinion, which must have been +considerably lowered in the episode of the Wine Master’s wife.</p> +<p>The Voivodin, thinking, doubtless, Your Honour, to add a fresh lustre to +her welcome, had donned the costume which all her nation has now come to +love and to accept as a dress of ceremonial honour. She wore her +shroud. It moved the hearts of all of us who looked on to see it, and +we appreciated its being worn for such a cause. But Mr. Melton did +not seem to care. As he had been approaching she had begun to kneel, +and was already on her knees whilst he was several yards away. There +he stopped and turned to speak to his valet, put a glass in his eye, and +looked all round him and up and down—indeed, everywhere except at the +Great Lady, who was on her knees before him, waiting to bid him +welcome. I could see in the eyes of such of the mountaineers as were +within my range of vision a growing animosity; so, hoping to keep down any +such expression, which I knew would cause harm to Your Honour and the +Voivodin, I looked all round them straight in their faces with a fixed +frown, which, indeed, they seemed to understand, for they regained, and for +the time maintained, their usual dignified calm. The Voivodin, may I +say, bore the trial wonderfully. No human being could see that she +was in any degree pained or even surprised. Mr. Melton stood looking +round him so long that I had full time to regain my own attitude of +calm. At last he seemed to come back to the knowledge that someone +was waiting for him, and sauntered leisurely forward. There was so +much insolence—mind you, not insolence that was intended to appear as +such—in his movement that the mountaineers began to steal +forward. When he was close up to the Voivodin, and she put out her +hand to take his, he put forward <i>one finger</i>! I could hear the +intake of the breath of the men, now close around, for I had moved forward, +too. I thought it would be as well to be close to your guest, lest +something should happen to him. The Voivodin still kept her splendid +self-control. Raising the finger put forward by the guest with the +same deference as though it had been the hand of a King, she bent her head +down and kissed it. Her duty of courtesy now done, she was preparing +to rise, when he put his hand into his pocket, and, pulling out a +sovereign, offered it to her. His valet moved his hand forward, as if +to pull back his arm, but it was too late. I am sure, Your Honour, +that no affront was intended. He doubtless thought that he was doing +a kindness of the sort usual in England when one “tips” a +housekeeper. But all the same, to one in her position, it was an +affront, an insult, open and unmistakable. So it was received by the +mountaineers, whose handjars flashed out as one. For a second it was +so received even by the Voivodin, who, with face flushing scarlet, and the +stars in her eves flaming red, sprang to her feet. But in that second +she had regained herself, and to all appearances her righteous anger passed +away. Stooping, she took the hand of her guest and raised +it—you know how strong she is—and, holding it in hers, led him +into the doorway, saying:</p> +<p>“You are welcome, kinsman of my husband, to the house of my +father, which is presently my husband’s also. Both are grieved +that, duty having called them away for the time, they are unable to be here +to help me to greet you.”</p> +<p>I tell you, Your Honour, that it was a lesson in self-respect which +anyone who saw it can never forget. As to me, it makes my flesh +quiver, old as I am, with delight, and my heart leap.</p> +<p>May I, as a faithful servant who has had many years of experience, +suggest that Your Honour should seem—for the present, at any +rate—not to know any of these things which I have reported, as you +wished me to do. Be sure that the Voivodin will tell you her gracious +self aught that she would wish you to know. And such reticence on +your part must make for her happiness, even if it did not for your own.</p> +<p>So that you may know all, as you desired, and that you may have time to +school yourself to whatever attitude you think best to adopt, I send this +off to you at once by fleet messenger. Were the aeroplane here, I +should take it myself. I leave here shortly to await the arrival of +Sir Colin at Otranto.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your Honour’s faithful servant,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rooke</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>August</i> 9, 1907.</p> +<p>To me it seems very providential that Rupert was not at home when that +dreadful young man Ernest Melton arrived, though it is possible that if +Rupert had been present he would not have dared to conduct himself so +badly. Of course, I heard all about it from the maids; Teuta never +opened her lips to me on the subject. It was bad enough and stupid +enough for him to try to kiss a decent young woman like Julia, who is +really as good as gold and as modest as one of our own Highland lassies; +but to think of him insulting Teuta! The little beast! One +would think that a champion idiot out of an Equatorial asylum would know +better! If Michael, the Wine Master, wanted to kill him, I wonder +what my Rupert and hers would have done? I am truly thankful that he +was not present. And I am thankful, too, that I was not present +either, for I should have made an exhibition of myself, and Rupert would +not have liked that. He—the little beast! might have seen from +the very dress that the dear girl wore that there was something exceptional +about her. But on one account I should have liked to see her. +They tell me that she was, in her true dignity, like a Queen, and that her +humility in receiving her husband’s kinsman was a lesson to every +woman in the Land. I must be careful not to let Rupert know that I +have heard of the incident. Later on, when it is all blown over and +the young man has been got safely away, I shall tell him of it. Mr. +Rooke—Lord High Admiral Rooke, I should say—must be a really +wonderful man to have so held himself in check; for, from what I have heard +of him, he must in his younger days have been worse than Old Morgan of +Panama. Mr. Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, of Humcroft, Salop, little +knows how near he was to being “cleft to the chine” also.</p> +<p>Fortunately, I had heard of his meeting with Teuta before he came to see +me, for I did not get back from my walk till after he had arrived. +Teuta’s noble example was before me, and I determined that I, too, +would show good manners under any circumstances. But I didn’t +know how mean he is. Think of his saying to me that Rupert’s +position here must be a great source of pride to me, who had been his +nursery governess. He said “nursemaid” first, but then +stumbled in his words, seeming to remember something. I did not turn +a hair, I am glad to say. It is a mercy Uncle Colin was not here, for +I honestly believe that, if he had been, he would have done the +“cleaving to the chine” himself. It has been a narrow +escape for Master Ernest, for only this morning Rupert had a message, sent +on from Gibraltar, saying that he was arriving with his clansmen, and that +they would not be far behind his letter. He would call at Otranto in +case someone should come across to pilot him to Vissarion. Uncle told +me all about that young cad having offered him one finger in Mr. +Trent’s office, though, of course, he didn’t let the cad see +that he noticed it. I have no doubt that, when he does arrive, that +young man, if he is here still, will find that he will have to behave +himself, if it be only on Sir Colin’s account alone.</p> +<h3>THE SAME (LATER).</h3> +<p>I had hardly finished writing when the lookout on the tower announced +that the <i>Teuta</i>, as Rupert calls his aeroplane, was sighted crossing +the mountains from Plazac. I hurried up to see him arrive, for I had +not as yet seen him on his “aero.” Mr. Ernest Melton came +up, too. Teuta was, of course, before any of us. She seems to +know by instinct when Rupert is coming.</p> +<p>It was certainly a wonderful sight to see the little aeroplane, with +outspread wings like a bird in flight, come sailing high over the +mountains. There was a head-wind, and they were beating against it; +otherwise we should not have had time to get to the tower before the +arrival.</p> +<p>When once the “aero” had begun to drop on the near side of +the mountains, however, and had got a measure of shelter from them, her +pace was extraordinary. We could not tell, of course, what sort of +pace she came at from looking at herself. But we gathered some idea +from the rate at which the mountains and hills seemed to slide away from +under her. When she got over the foot-hills, which are about ten +miles away, she came on at a swift glide that seemed to throw the distance +behind her. When quite close, she rose up a little till she was +something higher than the Tower, to which she came as straight as an arrow +from the bow, and glided to her moorings, stopping dead as Rupert pulled a +lever, which seemed to turn a barrier to the wind. The Voivode sat +beside Rupert, but I must say that he seemed to hold on to the bar in front +of him even more firmly than Rupert held to his steering-gear.</p> +<p>When they had alighted, Rupert greeted his cousin with the utmost +kindness, and bade him welcome to Vissarion.</p> +<p>“I see,” he said, “you have met Teuta. Now you +may congratulate me, if you wish.”</p> +<p>Mr. Melton made a long rodomontade about her beauty, but presently, +stumbling about in his speech, said something regarding it being unlucky to +appear in grave-clothes. Rupert laughed, and clapped him on the +shoulder as he answered:</p> +<p>“That pattern of frock is likely to become a national dress for +loyal women of the Blue Mountains. When you know something of what +that dress means to us all at present you will understand. In the +meantime, take it that there is not a soul in the nation that does not love +it and honour her for wearing it.” To which the cad +replied:</p> +<p>“Oh, indeed! I thought it was some preparation for a +fancy-dress ball.” Rupert’s comment on this ill-natured +speech was (for him) quite grumpily given:</p> +<p>“I should not advise you to think such things whilst you are in +this part of the world, Ernest. They bury men here for much +less.”</p> +<p>The cad seemed struck with something—either what Rupert had said +or his manner of saying it—for he was silent for several seconds +before he spoke.</p> +<p>“I’m very tired with that long journey, Rupert. Would +you and Mrs. Sent Leger mind if I go to my own room and turn in? My +man can ask for a cup of tea and a sandwich for me.”</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>August</i> 10, 1907.</p> +<p>When Ernest said he wished to retire it was about the wisest thing he +could have said or done, and it suited Teuta and me down to the +ground. I could see that the dear girl was agitated about something, +so thought it would be best for her to be quiet, and not worried with being +civil to the Bounder. Though he is my cousin, I can’t think of +him as anything else. The Voivode and I had certain matters to attend +to arising out of the meeting of the Council, and when we were through the +night was closing in. When I saw Teuta in our own rooms she said at +once:</p> +<p>“Do you mind, dear, if I stay with Aunt Janet to-night? She +is very upset and nervous, and when I offered to come to her she clung to +me and cried with relief.”</p> +<p>So when I had had some supper, which I took with the Voivode, I came +down to my old quarters in the Garden Room, and turned in early.</p> +<p>I was awakened a little before dawn by the coming of the fighting monk +Theophrastos, a notable runner, who had an urgent message for me. +This was the letter to me given to him by Rooke. He had been +cautioned to give it into no other hand, but to find me wherever I might +be, and convey it personally. When he had arrived at Plazac I had +left on the aeroplane, so he had turned back to Vissarion.</p> +<p>When I read Rooke’s report of Ernest Melton’s abominable +conduct I was more angry with him than I can say. Indeed, I did not +think before that that I could be angry with him, for I have always +despised him. But this was too much. However, I realized the +wisdom of Rooke’s advice, and went away by myself to get over my +anger and reacquire my self-mastery. The aeroplane <i>Teuta</i> was +still housed on the tower, so I went up alone and took it out.</p> +<p>When I had had a spin of about a hundred miles I felt better. The +bracing of the wind and the quick, exhilarating motion restored me to +myself, and I felt able to cope with Master Ernest, or whatever else +chagrinable might come along, without giving myself away. As Teuta +had thought it better to keep silence as to Ernest’s affront, I felt +I must not acknowledge it; but, all the same, I determined to get rid of +him before the day was much older.</p> +<p>When I had had my breakfast I sent word to him by a servant that I was +coming to his rooms, and followed not long behind the messenger.</p> +<p>He was in a suit of silk pyjamas, such as not even Solomon in all his +glory was arrayed in. I closed the door behind me before I began to +speak. He listened, at first amazed, then disconcerted, then angry, +and then cowering down like a whipped hound. I felt that it was a +case for speaking out. A bumptious ass like him, who deliberately +insulted everyone he came across—for if all or any of his efforts in +that way were due to mere elemental ignorance he was not fit to live, but +should be silenced on sight as a modern Caliban—deserved neither pity +nor mercy. To extend to him fine feeling, tolerance, and such-like +gentlenesses would be to deprive the world of them without benefit to +any. So well as I can remember, what I said was something like +this:</p> +<p>“Ernest, as you say, you’ve got to go, and to go quick, you +understand. I dare say you look on this as a land of barbarians, and +think that any of your high-toned refinements are thrown away on people +here. Well, perhaps it is so. Undoubtedly, the structure of the +country is rough; the mountains may only represent the glacial epoch; but +so far as I can gather from some of your exploits—for I have only +learned a small part as yet—you represent a period a good deal +farther back. You seem to have given our folk here an exhibition of +the playfulness of the hooligan of the Saurian stage of development; but +the Blue Mountains, rough as they are, have come up out of the primeval +slime, and even now the people aim at better manners. They may be +rough, primitive, barbarian, elemental, if you will, but they are not low +down enough to tolerate either your ethics or your taste. My dear +cousin, your life is not safe here! I am told that yesterday, only +for the restraint exercised by certain offended mountaineers on other +grounds than your own worth, you would have been abbreviated by the +head. Another day of your fascinating presence would do away with +this restraint, and then we should have a scandal. I am a new-comer +here myself—too new a comer to be able to afford a scandal of that +kind—and so I shall not delay your going. Believe me, my dear +cousin, Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, of Humcroft, Salop, that I am +inconsolable about your resolution of immediate departure, but I cannot +shut my eyes to its wisdom. At present the matter is altogether +amongst ourselves, and when you have gone—if it be +immediately—silence will be observed on all hands for the sake of the +house wherein you are a guest; but if there be time for scandal to spread, +you will be made, whether you be alive or dead, a European +laughing-stock. Accordingly, I have anticipated your wishes, and have +ordered a fast steam yacht to take you to Ancona, or to whatever other port +you may desire. The yacht will be under the command of Captain +Desmond, of one of our battleships—a most determined officer, who +will carry out any directions which may be given to him. This will +insure your safety so far as Italian territory. Some of his officials +will arrange a special carriage for you up to Flushing, and a cabin on the +steamer to Queenboro’. A man of mine will travel on the train +and steamer with you, and will see that whatever you may wish in the way of +food or comfort will be provided. Of course, you understand, my dear +cousin, that you are my guest until you arrive in London. I have not +asked Rooke to accompany you, as when he went to meet you, it was a +mistake. Indeed, there might have been a danger to you which I never +contemplated—a quite unnecessary danger, I assure you. But +happily Admiral Rooke, though a man of strong passions, has wonderful +self-control.”</p> +<p>“Admiral Rooke?” he queried. +“Admiral?”</p> +<p>“Admiral, certainly,” I replied, “but not an ordinary +Admiral—one of many. He is <i>the</i> Admiral—the Lord +High Admiral of the Land of the Blue Mountains, with sole control of its +expanding navy. When such a man is treated as a valet, there may be . +. . But why go into this? It is all over. I only mention it +lest anything of a similar kind should occur with Captain Desmond, who is a +younger man, and therefore with probably less self-repression.”</p> +<p>I saw that he had learned his lesson, and so said no more on the +subject.</p> +<p>There was another reason for his going which I did not speak of. +Sir Colin MacKelpie was coming with his clansmen, and I knew he did not +like Ernest Melton. I well remembered that episode of his offering +one finger to the old gentleman in Mr. Trent’s office, and, moreover, +I had my suspicions that Aunt Janet’s being upset was probably in +some measure due to some rudeness of his that she did not wish to speak +about. He is really an impossible young man, and is far better out of +this country than in it. If he remained here, there would be some +sort of a tragedy for certain.</p> +<p>I must say that it was with a feeling of considerable relief that I saw +the yacht steam out of the creek, with Captain Desmond on the bridge and my +cousin beside him.</p> +<p>Quite other were my feelings when, an hour after, <i>The Lady</i> came +flying into the creek with the Lord High Admiral on the bridge, and beside +him, more splendid and soldier-like than ever, Sir Colin MacKelpie. +Mr. Bingham Trent was also on the bridge.</p> +<p>The General was full of enthusiasm regarding his regiment, for in all, +those he brought with him and those finishing their training at home, the +force is near the number of a full regiment. When we were alone he +explained to me that all was arranged regarding the non-commissioned +officers, but that he had held over the question of officers until we +should have had a suitable opportunity of talking the matter over +together. He explained to me his reasons, which were certainly simple +and cogent. Officers, according to him, are a different class, and +accustomed to a different standard altogether of life and living, of duties +and pleasures. They are harder to deal with and more difficult to +obtain. “There was no use,” he said, “in getting a +lot of failures, with old-crusted ways of their own importance. We +must have young men for our purpose—that is, men not old, but with +some experience—men, of course, who know how to behave themselves, or +else, from what little I have seen of the Blue Mountaineers, they +wouldn’t last long here if they went on as some of them do +elsewhere. I shall start things here as you wish me to, for I am +here, my dear boy, to stay with you and Janet, and we shall, if it be given +to us by the Almighty, help to build up together a new +‘nation’—an ally of Britain, who will stand at least as +an outpost of our own nation, and a guardian of our eastern road. +When things are organized here on the military side, and are going strong, +I shall, if you can spare me, run back to London for a few weeks. +Whilst I am there I shall pick up a lot of the sort of officers we +want. I know that there are loads of them to be had. I shall go +slowly, however, and carefully, too, and every man I bring back will be +recommended to me by some old soldier whom I know, and who knows the man he +recommends, and has seen him work. We shall have, I dare say, an army +for its size second to none in the world, and the day may come when your +old country will be proud of your new one. Now I’m off to see +that all is ready for my people—your people now.”</p> +<p>I had had arrangements made for the comfort of the clansmen and the +women, but I knew that the good old soldier would see for himself that his +men were to be comfortable. It was not for nothing that he +was—is—looked on as perhaps the General most beloved by his men +in the whole British Army.</p> +<p>When he had gone, and I was alone, Mr. Trent, who had evidently been +waiting for the opportunity, came to me. When we had spoken of my +marriage and of Teuta, who seems to have made an immense impression on him, +he said suddenly:</p> +<p>“I suppose we are quite alone, and that we shall not be +interrupted?” I summoned the man outside—there is always +a sentry on guard outside my door or near me, wherever I may be—and +gave orders that I was not to be disturbed until I gave fresh orders. +“If,” I said, “there be anything pressing or important, +let the Voivodin or Miss MacKelpie know. If either of them brings +anyone to me, it will be all right.”</p> +<p>When we were quite alone Mr. Trent took a slip of paper and some +documents from the bag which was beside him. He then read out items +from the slip, placing as he did so the documents so checked over before +him.</p> +<p>1. New Will made on marriage, to be signed presently.</p> +<p>2. Copy of the Re-conveyance of Vissarion estates to Peter +Vissarion, as directed by Will of Roger Melton.</p> +<p>3. Report of Correspondence with Privy Council, and proceedings +following.</p> +<p>Taking up the last named, he untied the red tape, and, holding the +bundle in his hand, went on:</p> +<p>“As you may, later on, wish to examine the details of the +Proceedings, I have copied out the various letters, the originals of which +are put safely away in my strong-room where, of course, they are always +available in case you may want them. For your present information I +shall give you a rough synopsis of the Proceedings, referring where +advisable to this paper.</p> +<p>“On receipt of your letter of instructions regarding the Consent +of the Privy Council to your changing your nationality in accordance with +the terms of Roger Melton’s Will, I put myself in communication with +the Clerk of the Privy Council, informing him of your wish to be +naturalized in due time to the Land of the Blue Mountains. After some +letters between us, I got a summons to attend a meeting of the Council.</p> +<p>“I attended, as required, taking with me all necessary documents, +and such as I conceived might be advisable to produce, if wanted.</p> +<p>“The Lord President informed me that the present meeting of the +Council was specially summoned in obedience to the suggestion of the King, +who had been consulted as to his personal wishes on the +subject—should he have any. The President then proceeded to +inform me officially that all Proceedings of the Privy Council were +altogether confidential, and were not to be made public under any +circumstances. He was gracious enough to add:</p> +<p>“‘The circumstances of this case, however, are unique; and +as you act for another, we have thought it advisable to enlarge your +permission in the matter, so as to allow you to communicate freely with +your principal. As that gentleman is settling himself in a part of +the world which has been in the past, and may be again, united to this +nation by some common interest, His Majesty wishes Mr. Sent Leger to feel +assured of the good-will of Great Britain to the Land of the Blue +Mountains, and even of his own personal satisfaction that a gentleman of so +distinguished a lineage and such approved personal character is about to +be—within his own scope—a connecting-link between the +nations. To which end he has graciously announced that, should the +Privy Council acquiesce in the request of Denaturalization, he will himself +sign the Patent therefor.</p> +<p>“‘The Privy Council has therefore held private session, at +which the matter has been discussed in its many bearings; and it is content +that the change can do no harm, but may be of some service to the two +nations. We have, therefore, agreed to grant the prayer of the +Applicant; and the officials of the Council have the matter of the form of +Grant in hand. So you, sir, may rest satisfied that as soon as the +formalities—which will, of course, require the formal signing of +certain documents by the Applicant—can be complied with, the Grant +and Patent will obtain.’”</p> +<p>Having made this statement in formal style, my old friend went on in +more familiar way:</p> +<p>“And so, my dear Rupert, all is in hand; and before very long you +will have the freedom required under the Will, and will be at liberty to +take whatever steps may be necessary to be naturalized in your new +country.</p> +<p>“I may tell you, by the way, that several members of the Council +made very complimentary remarks regarding you. I am forbidden to give +names, but I may tell you facts. One old Field-Marshal, whose name is +familiar to the whole world, said that he had served in many places with +your father, who was a very valiant soldier, and that he was glad that +Great Britain was to have in the future the benefit of your father’s +son in a friendly land now beyond the outposts of our Empire, but which had +been one with her in the past, and might be again.</p> +<p>“So much for the Privy Council. We can do no more at present +until you sign and have attested the documents which I have brought with +me.</p> +<p>“We can now formally complete the settlement of the Vissarion +estates, which must be done whilst you are a British citizen. So, +too, with the Will, the more formal and complete document, which is to take +the place of that short one which you forwarded to me the day after your +marriage. It may be, perhaps, necessary or advisable that, later on, +when you are naturalized here, you shall make a new Will in strictest +accordance with local law.”</p> +<h3>TEUTA SENT LEGER’S DIARY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>August</i> 19, 1907.</p> +<p>We had a journey to-day that was simply glorious. We had been +waiting to take it for more than a week. Rupert not only wanted the +weather suitable, but he had to wait till the new aeroplane came +home. It is more than twice as big as our biggest up to now. +None of the others could take all the party which Rupert wanted to +go. When he heard that the aero was coming from Whitby, where it was +sent from Leeds, he directed by cable that it should be unshipped at +Otranto, whence he took it here all by himself. I wanted to come with +him, but he thought it better not. He says that Brindisi is too busy +a place to keep anything quiet—if not secret—and he wants to be +very dark indeed about this, as it is worked by the new radium +engine. Ever since they found radium in our own hills he has been +obsessed by the idea of an aerial navy for our protection. And after +to-day’s experiences I think he is right. As he wanted to +survey the whole country at a glimpse, so that the general scheme of +defence might be put in hand, we had to have an aero big enough to take the +party as well as fast enough to do it rapidly, and all at once. We +had, in addition to Rupert, my father, and myself, Sir Colin and Lord High +Admiral Rooke (I do like to give that splendid old fellow his full +title!). The military and naval experts had with them scientific +apparatus of various kinds, also cameras and range-finders, so that they +could mark their maps as they required. Rupert, of course, drove, and +I acted as his assistant. Father, who has not yet become accustomed +to aerial travel, took a seat in the centre (which Rupert had thoughtfully +prepared for him), where there is very little motion. I must say I +was amazed to see the way that splendid old soldier Sir Colin bore +himself. He had never been on an aeroplane before, but, all the same, +he was as calm as if he was on a rock. Height or motion did not +trouble him. Indeed, he seemed to <i>enjoy</i> himself all the +time. The Admiral is himself almost an expert, but in any case I am +sure he would have been unconcerned, just as he was in the <i>Crab</i> as +Rupert has told me.</p> +<p>We left just after daylight, and ran down south. When we got to +the east of Ilsin, we kept slightly within the border-line, and went north +or east as it ran, making occasional loops inland over the mountains and +back again. When we got up to our farthest point north, we began to +go much slower. Sir Colin explained that for the rest all would be +comparatively plain-sailing in the way of defence; but that as any foreign +Power other than the Turk must attack from seaward, he would like to +examine the seaboard very carefully in conjunction with the Admiral, whose +advice as to sea defence would be invaluable.</p> +<p>Rupert was fine. No one could help admiring him as he sat working +his lever and making the great machine obey every touch. He was +wrapped up in his work. I don’t believe that whilst he was +working he ever thought of even me. He <i>is</i> splendid!</p> +<p>We got back just as the sun was dropping down over the Calabrian +Mountains. It is quite wonderful how the horizon changes when you are +sailing away up high on an aeroplane. Rupert is going to teach me how +to manage one all by myself, and when I am fit he will give me one, which +he is to have specially built for me.</p> +<p>I think I, too, have done some good work—at least, I have got some +good ideas—from our journey to-day. Mine are not of war, but of +peace, and I think I see a way by which we shall be able to develop our +country in a wonderful way. I shall talk the idea over with Rupert +to-night, when we are alone. In the meantime Sir Colin and Admiral +Rooke will think their plans over individually, and to-morrow morning +together. Then the next day they, too, are to go over their idea with +Rupert and my father, and something may be decided then.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>August</i> 21, 1907.</p> +<p>Our meeting on the subject of National Defence, held this afternoon, +went off well. We were five in all, for with permission of the +Voivode and the two fighting-men, naval and military, I brought Teuta with +me. She sat beside me quite quietly, and never made a remark of any +kind till the Defence business had been gone through. Both Sir Colin +and Admiral Rooke were in perfect agreement as to the immediate steps to be +taken for defence. In the first instance, the seaboard was to be +properly fortified in the necessary places, and the navy largely +strengthened. When we had got thus far I asked Rooke to tell of the +navy increase already in hand. Whereupon he explained that, as we had +found the small battleship <i>The Lady</i> of an excellent type for coast +defence, acting only in home waters, and of a size to take cover where +necessary at many places on our own shores, we had ordered nine others of +the same pattern. Of these the first four were already in hand, and +were proceeding with the greatest expedition. The General then +supplemented this by saying that big guns could be used from points +judiciously chosen on the seaboard, which was in all so short a length that +no very great quantity of armament would be required.</p> +<p>“We can have,” he said, “the biggest guns of the most +perfect kind yet accomplished, and use them from land batteries of the most +up-to-date pattern. The one serious proposition we have to deal with +is the defence of the harbour—as yet quite undeveloped—which is +known as the ‘Blue Mouth.’ Since our aerial journey I +have been to it by sea with Admiral Rooke in <i>The Lady</i>, and then on +land with the Vladika, who was born on its shores, and who knows every inch +of it.</p> +<p>“It is worth fortifying—and fortifying well, for as a port +it is peerless in Mediterranean seas. The navies of the world might +ride in it, land-locked, and even hidden from view seawards. The +mountains which enclose it are in themselves absolute protection. In +addition, these can only be assailed from our own territory. Of +course, Voivode, you understand when I say ‘our’ I mean the +Land of the Blue Mountains, for whose safety and well-being I am alone +concerned. Any ship anchoring in the roads of the Blue Mouth would +have only one need—sufficient length of cable for its magnificent +depth.</p> +<p>“When proper guns are properly placed on the steep cliffs to north +and south of the entrance, and when the rock islet between has been +armoured and armed as will be necessary, the Mouth will be +impregnable. But we should not depend on the aiming of the entrance +alone. At certain salient points—which I have marked upon this +map—armour-plated sunken forts within earthworks should be +established. There should be covering forts on the hillsides, and, of +course, the final summits protected. Thus we could resist attack on +any side or all sides—from sea or land. That port will yet mean +the wealth as well as the strength of this nation, so it will be well to +have it properly protected. This should be done soon, and the utmost +secrecy observed in the doing of it, lest the so doing should become a +matter of international concern.”</p> +<p>Here Rooke smote the table hard.</p> +<p>“By God, that is true! It has been the dream of my own life +for this many a year.”</p> +<p>In the silence which followed the sweet, gentle voice of Teuta came +clear as a bell:</p> +<p>“May I say a word? I am emboldened to, as Sir Colin has +spoken so splendidly, and as the Lord High Admiral has not hesitated to +mention his dreaming. I, too, have had a dream—a +day-dream—which came in a flash, but no less a dream, for all +that. It was when we hung on the aeroplane over the Blue Mouth. +It seemed to me in an instant that I saw that beautiful spot as it will +some time be—typical, as Sir Colin said, of the wealth as well as the +strength of this nation; a mart for the world whence will come for barter +some of the great wealth of the Blue Mountains. That wealth is as yet +undeveloped. But the day is at hand when we may begin to use it, and +through that very port. Our mountains and their valleys are clad with +trees of splendid growth, virgin forests of priceless worth; hard woods of +all kinds, which have no superior throughout the world. In the rocks, +though hidden as yet, is vast mineral wealth of many kinds. I have +been looking through the reports of the geological exports of the +Commission of Investigation which my husband organized soon after he came +to live here, and, according to them, our whole mountain ranges simply teem +with vast quantities of minerals, almost more precious for industry than +gold and silver are for commerce—though, indeed, gold is not +altogether lacking as a mineral. When once our work on the harbour is +done, and the place has been made secure against any attempt at foreign +aggression, we must try to find a way to bring this wealth of woods and +ores down to the sea.</p> +<p>“And then, perhaps, may begin the great prosperity of our Land, of +which we have all dreamt.”</p> +<p>She stopped, all vibrating, almost choked with emotion. We were +all moved. For myself, I was thrilled to the core. Her +enthusiasm was all-sweeping, and under its influence I found my own +imagination expanding. Out of its experiences I spoke:</p> +<p>“And there is a way. I can see it. Whilst our dear +Voivodin was speaking, the way seemed to clear. I saw at the back of +the Blue Mouth, where it goes deepest into the heart of the cliffs, the +opening of a great tunnel, which ran upward over a steep slope till it +debouched on the first plateau beyond the range of the encompassing +cliffs. Thither came by various rails of steep gradient, by +timber-shoots and cable-rails, by aerial cables and precipitating tubes, +wealth from over ground and under it; for as our Land is all mountains, and +as these tower up to the clouds, transport to the sea shall be easy and of +little cost when once the machinery is established. As everything of +much weight goes downward, the cars of the main tunnel of the port shall +return upward without cost. We can have from the mountains a head of +water under good control, which will allow of endless hydraulic power, so +that the whole port and the mechanism of the town to which it will grow can +be worked by it.</p> +<p>“This work can be put in hand at once. So soon as the place +shall be perfectly surveyed and the engineering plans got ready, we can +start on the main tunnel, working from the sea-level up, so that the cost +of the transport of material will be almost nil. This work can go on +whilst the forts are building; no time need be lost.</p> +<p>“Moreover, may I add a word on National Defence? We are, +though old in honour, a young nation as to our place amongst Great +Powers. And so we must show the courage and energy of a young +nation. The Empire of the Air is not yet won. Why should not we +make a bid for it? As our mountains are lofty, so shall we have +initial power of attack or defence. We can have, in chosen spots +amongst the clouds, depots of war aeroplanes, with which we can descend and +smite our enemies quickly on land or sea. We shall hope to live for +Peace; but woe to those who drive us to War!”</p> +<p>There is no doubt that the Vissarions are a warlike race. As I +spoke, Teuta took one of my hands and held it hard. The old Voivode, +his eyes blazing, rose and stood beside me and took the other. The +two old fighting-men of the land and the sea stood up and saluted.</p> +<p>This was the beginning of what ultimately became “The National +Committee of Defence and Development.”</p> +<p>I had other, and perhaps greater, plans for the future in my mind; but +the time had not come for their utterance.</p> +<p>To me it seems not only advisable, but necessary, that the utmost +discretion be observed by all our little group, at all events for the +present. There seems to be some new uneasiness in the Blue +Mountains. There are constant meetings of members of the Council, but +no formal meeting of the Council, as such, since the last one at which I +was present. There is constant coming and going amongst the +mountaineers, always in groups, small or large. Teuta and I, who have +been about very much on the aeroplane, have both noticed it. But +somehow we—that is, the Voivode and myself—are left out of +everything; but we have not said as yet a word on the subject to any of the +others. The Voivode notices, but he says nothing; so I am silent, and +Teuta does whatever I ask. Sir Colin does not notice anything except +the work he is engaged on—the planning the defences of the Blue +Mouth. His old scientific training as an engineer, and his enormous +experience of wars and sieges—for he was for nearly fifty years sent +as military representative to all the great wars—seem to have become +directed on that point. He is certainly planning it all out in a +wonderful way. He consults Rooke almost hourly on the maritime side +of the question. The Lord High Admiral has been a watcher all his +life, and very few important points have ever escaped him, so that he can +add greatly to the wisdom of the defensive construction. He notices, +I think, that something is going on outside ourselves; but he keeps a +resolute silence.</p> +<p>What the movement going on is I cannot guess. It is not like the +uneasiness that went before the abduction of Teuta and the Voivode, but it +is even more pronounced. That was an uneasiness founded on some +suspicion. This is a positive thing, and has definite +meaning—of some sort. We shall, I suppose, know all about it in +good time. In the meantime we go on with our work. Happily the +whole Blue Mouth and the mountains round it are on my own property, the +portion acquired long ago by Uncle Roger, exclusive of the Vissarion +estate. I asked the Voivode to allow me to transfer it to him, but he +sternly refused and forbade me, quite peremptorily, to ever open the +subject to him again. “You have done enough already,” he +said. “Were I to allow you to go further, I should feel +mean. And I do not think you would like your wife’s father to +suffer that feeling after a long life, which he has tried to live in +honour.”</p> +<p>I bowed, and said no more. So there the matter rests, and I have +to take my own course. I have had a survey made, and on the head of +it the Tunnel to the harbour is begun.</p> +<h2>BOOK VIII: THE FLASHING OF THE HANDJAR</h2> +<h3>PRIVATE MEMORANDUM OF THE MEETING OF VARIOUS MEMBERS OF THE NATIONAL +COUNCIL, HELD AT THE STATE HOUSE OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS AT PLAZAC ON MONDAY, +AUGUST 26, 1907.</h3> +<p>(<i>Written by Cristoferos</i>, <i>Scribe of the Council</i>, <i>by +instruction of those present</i>.)</p> +<p>When the private meeting of various Members of the National Council had +assembled in the Council Hall of the State House at Plazac, it was as a +preliminary decided unanimously that now or hereafter no names of those +present were to be mentioned, and that officials appointed for the purposes +of this meeting should be designated by office only, the names of all being +withheld.</p> +<p>The proceedings assumed the shape of a general conversation, quite +informal, and therefore not to be recorded. The nett outcome was the +unanimous expression of an opinion that the time, long contemplated by very +many persons throughout the nation, had now come when the Constitution and +machinery of the State should be changed; that the present form of ruling +by an Irregular Council was not sufficient, and that a method more in +accord with the spirit of the times should be adopted. To this end +Constitutional Monarchy, such as that holding in Great Britain, seemed best +adapted. Finally, it was decided that each Member of the Council +should make a personal canvass of his district, talk over the matter with +his electors, and bring back to another meeting—or, rather, as it was +amended, to this meeting postponed for a week, until September +2nd—the opinions and wishes received. Before separating, the +individual to be appointed King, in case the new idea should prove grateful +to the nation, was discussed. The consensus of opinion was entirely +to the effect that the Voivode Peter Vissarion should, if he would accept +the high office, be appointed. It was urged that, as his daughter, +the Voivodin Teuta, was now married to the Englishman, Rupert Sent +Leger—called generally by the mountaineers “the Gospodar +Rupert”—a successor to follow the Voivode when God should call +him would be at hand—a successor worthy in every way to succeed to so +illustrious a post. It was urged by several speakers, with general +acquiescence, that already Mr. Sent Leger’s services to the State +were such that he would be in himself a worthy person to begin the new +Dynasty; but that, as he was now allied to the Voivode Peter Vissarion, it +was becoming that the elder, born of the nation, should receive the first +honour.</p> +<h3>THE SAME—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p>The adjourned meeting of certain members of the National Council was +resumed in the Hall of the State House at Plazac on Monday, September 2nd, +1907. By motion the same chairman was appointed, and the rule +regarding the record renewed.</p> +<p>Reports were made by the various members of the Council in turn, +according to the State Roll. Every district was represented. +The reports were unanimously in favour of the New Constitution, and it was +reported by each and all of the Councillors that the utmost enthusiasm +marked in every case the suggestion of the Voivode Peter Vissarion as the +first King to be crowned under the new Constitution, and that remainder +should be settled on the Gospodar Rupert (the mountaineers would only +receive his lawful name as an alternative; one and all said that he would +be “Rupert” to them and to the nation—for ever).</p> +<p>The above matter having been satisfactorily settled, it was decided that +a formal meeting of the National Council should be held at the State House, +Plazac, in one week from to-day, and that the Voivode Peter Vissarion +should be asked to be in the State House in readiness to attend. It +was also decided that instruction should be given to the High Court of +National Law to prepare and have ready, in skeleton form, a rescript of the +New Constitution to be adopted, the same to be founded on the Constitution +and Procedure of Great Britain, so far as the same may be applicable to the +traditional ideas of free Government in the Land of the Blue Mountains.</p> +<p>By unanimous vote this private and irregular meeting of “Various +National Councillors” was then dissolved.</p> +<h3>RECORD OF THE FIRST MEETING OF THE NATIONAL COUNCIL OF THE LAND OF THE +BLUE MOUNTAINS, HELD AT PLAZAC ON MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH, 1907, TO CONSIDER +THE ADOPTION OF A NEW CONSTITUTION, AND TO GIVE PERMANENT EFFECT TO THE +SAME IF, AND WHEN, DECIDED UPON.</h3> +<p>(<i>Kept by the Monk Cristoferos</i>, <i>Scribe to the National +Council</i>.)</p> +<p>The adjourned meeting duly took place as arranged. There was a +full attendance of Members of the Council, together with the Vladika, the +Archbishop, the Archimandrites of Spazac, of Ispazar, of Domitan, and +Astrag; the Chancellor; the Lord of the Exchequer; the President of the +High Court of National Law; the President of the Council of Justice; and +such other high officials as it is customary to summon to meetings of the +National Council on occasions of great importance. The names of all +present will be found in the full report, wherein are given the ipsissima +verba of the various utterances made during the consideration of the +questions discussed, the same having been taken down in shorthand by the +humble scribe of this précis, which has been made for the +convenience of Members of the Council and others.</p> +<p>The Voivode Peter Vissarion, obedient to the request of the Council, was +in attendance at the State House, waiting in the “Chamber of the High +Officers” until such time as he should be asked to come before the +Council.</p> +<p>The President put before the National Council the matter of the new +Constitution, outlining the headings of it as drawn up by the High Court of +National Law, and the Constitution having been formally accepted <i>nem. +con.</i> by the National Council on behalf of the people, he proposed that +the Crown should be offered to the Voivode Peter Vissarion, with remainder +to the “Gospodar Rupert” (legally, Rupert Sent Leger), husband +of his only child, the Voivodin Teuta. This also was received with +enthusiasm, and passed <i>nem. con.</i></p> +<p>Thereupon the President of Council, the Archbishop, and the Vladika, +acting together as a deputation, went to pray the attention of the Voivode +Peter Vassarion.</p> +<p>When the Voivode entered, the whole Council and officials stood up, and +for a few seconds waited in respectful silence with heads bowed down. +Then, as if by a common impulse—for no word was spoken nor any signal +given—they all drew their handjars, and stood to attention—with +points raised and edges of the handjars to the front.</p> +<p>The Voivode stood very still. He seemed much moved, but controlled +himself admirably. The only time when be seemed to lose his +self-control was when, once again with a strange simultaneity, all present +raised their handjars on high, and shouted: “Hail, Peter, +King!” Then lowering their points till these almost touched the +ground, they once again stood with bowed heads.</p> +<p>When he had quite mastered himself, the Voivode Peter Vissarion +spoke:</p> +<p>“How can I, my brothers, sufficiently thank you, and, through you, +the people of the Blue Mountains, for the honour done to me this day? +In very truth it is not possible, and therefore I pray you to consider it +as done, measuring my gratitude in the greatness of your own hearts. +Such honour as you offer to me is not contemplated by any man in whose mind +a wholesome sanity rules, nor is it even the dream of fervent +imagination. So great is it, that I pray you, men with hearts and +minds like my own, to extend to me, as a further measure of your +generosity, a little time to think it over. I shall not want long, +for even already, with the blaze of honour fresh upon me, I see the cool +shadow of Duty, though his substance is yet hardly visible. Give me +but an hour of solitude—an hour at most—if it do not prolong +this your session unduly. It may be that a lesser time will serve, +but in any case I promise you that, when I can see a just and fitting issue +to my thought, I shall at once return.”</p> +<p>The President of the Council looked around him, and, seeing everywhere +the bowing heads of acquiescence, spoke with a reverent gravity:</p> +<p>“We shall wait in patience whatsoever time you will, and may the +God who rules all worthy hearts guide you to His Will!”</p> +<p>And so in silence the Voivode passed out of the hall.</p> +<p>From my seat near a window I could watch him go, as with measured steps +he passed up the hill which rises behind the State House, and disappeared +into the shadow of the forest. Then my work claimed me, for I wished +to record the proceedings so far whilst all was fresh in my mind. In +silence, as of the dead, the Council waited, no man challenging opinion of +his neighbour even by a glance.</p> +<p>Almost a full hour had elapsed when the Voivode came again to the +Council, moving with slow and stately gravity, as has always been his wont +since age began to hamper the movement which in youth had been so +notable. The Members of the Council all stood up uncovered, and so +remained while he made announcement of his conclusion. He spoke +slowly; and as his answer was to be a valued record of this Land and its +Race, I wrote down every word as uttered, leaving here and there space for +description or comment, which spaces I have since then filled in.</p> +<p>“Lords of the National Council, Archbishop, Vladika, Lords of the +Council of Justice and of National Law, Archimandrites, and my brothers +all, I have, since I left you, held in the solitude of the forest counsel +with myself—and with God; and He, in His gracious wisdom, has led my +thinking to that conclusion which was from the first moment of knowledge of +your intent presaged in my heart. Brothers, you know—or else a +long life has been spent in vain—that my heart and mind are all for +the nation—my experience, my life, my handjar. And when all is +for her, why should I shrink to exercise on her behalf my riper judgment +though the same should have to combat my own ambition? For ten +centuries my race has not failed in its duty. Ages ago the men of +that time trusted in the hands of my ancestors the Kingship, even as now +you, their children, trust me. But to me it would be base to betray +that trust, even by the smallest tittle. That would I do were I to +take the honour of the crown which you have tendered to me, so long as +there is another more worthy to wear it. Were there none other, I +should place myself in your hands, and yield myself over to blind obedience +of your desires. But such an one there is; dear to you already by his +own deeds, now doubly dear to me, since he is my son by my daughter’s +love. He is young, whereas I am old. He is strong and brave and +true; but my days of the usefulness of strength and bravery are over. +For myself, I have long contemplated as the crown of my later years a quiet +life in one of our monasteries, where I can still watch the whirl of the +world around us on your behalf, and be a counsellor of younger men of more +active minds. Brothers, we are entering on stirring times. I +can see the signs of their coming all around us. North and +South—the Old Order and the New, are about to clash, and we lie +between the opposing forces. True it is that the Turk, after warring +for a thousand years, is fading into insignificance. But from the +North where conquests spring, have crept towards our Balkans the men of a +mightier composite Power. Their march has been steady; and as they +came, they fortified every step of the way. Now they are hard upon +us, and are already beginning to swallow up the regions that we have helped +to win from the dominion of Mahound. The Austrian is at our very +gates. Beaten back by the Irredentists of Italy, she has so enmeshed +herself with the Great Powers of Europe that she seems for the moment to be +impregnable to a foe of our stature. There is but one hope for +us—the uniting of the Balkan forces to turn a masterly front to North +and West as well as to South and East. Is that a task for old hands +to undertake? No; the hands must be young and supple; and the brain +subtle, as well as the heart be strong, of whomsoever would dare such an +accomplishment. Should I accept the crown, it would only postpone the +doing of that which must ultimately be done. What avail would it be +if, when the darkness closes over me, my daughter should be Queen Consort +to the first King of a new dynasty? You know this man, and from your +record I learn that you are already willing to have him as King to follow +me. Why not begin with him? He comes of a great nation, wherein +the principle of freedom is a vital principle that quickens all +things. That nation has more than once shown to us its friendliness; +and doubtless the very fact that an Englishman would become our King, and +could carry into our Government the spirit and customs which have made his +own country great, would do much to restore the old friendship, and even to +create a new one, which would in times of trouble bring British fleets to +our waters, and British bayonets to support our own handjars. It is +within my own knowledge, though as yet unannounced to you, that Rupert Sent +Leger has already obtained a patent, signed by the King of England himself, +allowing him to be denaturalized in England, so that he can at once apply +for naturalization here. I know also that he has brought hither a +vast fortune, by aid of which he is beginning to strengthen our hands for +war, in case that sad eventuality should arise. Witness his late +ordering to be built nine other warships of the class that has already done +such effective service in overthrowing the Turk—or the pirate, +whichever he may have been. He has undertaken the defence of the Blue +Mouth at his own cost in a way which will make it stronger than Gibraltar, +and secure us against whatever use to which the Austrian may apply the vast +forces already gathered in the Bocche di Cattaro. He is already +founding aerial stations on our highest peaks for use of the war aeroplanes +which are being built for him. It is such a man as this who makes a +nation great; and right sure I am that in his hands this splendid land and +our noble, freedom-loving people will flourish and become a power in the +world. Then, brothers, let me, as one to whom this nation and its +history and its future are dear, ask you to give to the husband of my +daughter the honour which you would confer on me. For her I can speak +as well as for myself. She shall suffer nothing in dignity +either. Were I indeed King, she, as my daughter, would be a Princess +of the world. As it will be, she shall be companion and Queen of a +great King, and her race, which is mine, shall flourish in all the lustre +of the new Dynasty.</p> +<p>“Therefore on all accounts, my brothers, for the sake of our dear +Land of the Blue Mountains, make the Gospodar Rupert, who has so proved +himself, your King. And make me happy in my retirement to the +cloister.”</p> +<p>When the Voivode ceased to speak, all still remained silent and +standing. But there was no mistaking their acquiescence in his most +generous prayer. The President of the Council well interpreted the +general wish when he said:</p> +<p>“Lords of the National Council, Archbishop, Vladika, Lords of the +Councils of Justice and National Law, Archimandrites, and all who are +present, is it agreed that we prepare at leisure a fitting reply to the +Voivode Peter of the historic House of Vissarion, stating our agreement +with his wish?”</p> +<p>To which there was a unanimous answer:</p> +<p>“It is.” He went on:</p> +<p>“Further. Shall we ask the Gospodar Rupert of the House of +Sent Leger, allied through his marriage to the Voivodin Teuta, daughter and +only child of the Voivode Peter of Vissarion, to come hither +to-morrow? And that, when he is amongst us, we confer on him the +Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue Mountains?”</p> +<p>Again came the answer: “It is.”</p> +<p>But this time it rang out like the sound of a gigantic trumpet, and the +handjars flashed.</p> +<p>Whereupon the session was adjourned for the space of a day.</p> +<h3>THE SAME—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>September</i> 10, 1907.</p> +<p>When the National Council met to-day the Voivode Peter Vissarion sat +with them, but well back, so that at first his presence was hardly +noticeable. After the necessary preliminaries had been gone through, +they requested the presence of the Gospodar Rupert—Mr. Rupert Sent +Leger—who was reported as waiting in the “Chamber of the High +Officers.” He at once accompanied back to the Hall the +deputation sent to conduct him. As he made his appearance in the +doorway the Councillors stood up. There was a burst of enthusiasm, +and the handjars flashed. For an instant he stood silent, with lifted +hand, as though indicating that he wished to speak. So soon as this +was recognized, silence fell on the assembly, and he spoke:</p> +<p>“I pray you, may the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has +accompanied me hither, appear with me to hear your wishes?” +There was an immediate and enthusiastic acquiescence, and, after bowing his +thanks, he retired to conduct her.</p> +<p>Her appearance was received with an ovation similar to that given to +Gospodar Rupert, to which she bowed with dignified sweetness. She, +with her husband, was conducted to the top of the Hall by the President, +who came down to escort them. In the meantime another chair had been +placed beside that prepared for the Gospodar, and these two sat.</p> +<p>The President then made the formal statement conveying to the +“Gospodar Rupert” the wishes of the Council, on behalf of the +nation, to offer to him the Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue +Mountains. The message was couched in almost the same words as had +been used the previous day in making the offer to the Voivode Peter +Vissarion, only differing to meet the special circumstances. The +Gospodar Rupert listened in grave silence. The whole thing was +manifestly quite new to him, but he preserved a self-control wonderful +under the circumstances. When, having been made aware of the previous +offer to the Voivode and the declared wish of the latter, he rose to speak, +there was stillness in the Hall. He commenced with a few broken words +of thanks; then he grew suddenly and strangely calm as he went on:</p> +<p>“But before I can even attempt to make a fitting reply, I should +know if it is contemplated to join with me in this great honour my dear +wife the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has so splendidly proved her +worthiness to hold any place in the government of the Land. I fain +would . . . ”</p> +<p>He was interrupted by the Voivodin, who, standing up beside him and +holding his left arm, said:</p> +<p>“Do not, President, and Lords all, think me wanting in that +respect of a wife for husband which in the Blue Mountains we hold so dear, +if I venture to interrupt my lord. I am here, not merely as a wife, +but as Voivodin of Vissarion, and by the memory of all the noble women of +that noble line I feel constrained to a great duty. We women of +Vissarion, in all the history of centuries, have never put ourselves +forward in rivalry of our lords. Well I know that my own dear lord +will forgive me as wife if I err; but I speak to you, the Council of the +nation, from another ground and with another tongue. My lord does +not, I fear, know as you do, and as I do too, that of old, in the history +of this Land, when Kingship was existent, that it was ruled by that law of +masculine supremacy which, centuries after, became known as the <i>Lex +Salica</i>. Lords of the Council of the Blue Mountains, I am a wife +of the Blue Mountains—as a wife young as yet, but with the blood of +forty generations of loyal women in my veins. And it would ill become +me, whom my husband honours—wife to the man whom you would +honour—to take a part in changing the ancient custom which has been +held in honour for all the thousand years, which is the glory of Blue +Mountain womanhood. What an example such would be in an age when +self-seeking women of other nations seek to forget their womanhood in the +struggle to vie in equality with men! Men of the Blue Mountains, I +speak for our women when I say that we hold of greatest price the glory of +our men. To be their companions is our happiness; to be their wives +is the completion of our lives; to be mothers of their children is our +share of the glory that is theirs.</p> +<p>“Therefore, I pray you, men of the Blue Mountains, let me but be +as any other wife in our land, equal to them in domestic happiness, which +is our woman’s sphere; and if that priceless honour may be vouchsafed +to me, and I be worthy and able to bear it, an exemplar of woman’s +rectitude.” With a low, modest, graceful bow, she sat down.</p> +<p>There was no doubt as to the reception of her renunciation of Queenly +dignity. There was more honour to her in the quick, fierce shout +which arose, and the unanimous upward swing of the handjars, than in the +wearing of any crown which could adorn the head of woman.</p> +<p>The spontaneous action of the Gospodar Rupert was another source of joy +to all—a fitting corollary to what had gone before. He rose to +his feet, and, taking his wife in his arms, kissed her before all. +Then they sat down, with their chairs close, bashfully holding hands like a +pair of lovers.</p> +<p>Then Rupert arose—he is Rupert now; no lesser name is on the lips +of his people henceforth. With an intense earnestness which seemed to +glow in his face, he said simply:</p> +<p>“What can I say except that I am in all ways, now and for ever, +obedient to your wishes?” Then, raising his handjar and holding +it before him, he kissed the hilt, saying:</p> +<p>“Hereby I swear to be honest and just—to be, God helping me, +such a King as you would wish—in so far as the strength is given +me. Amen.”</p> +<p>This ended the business of the Session, and the Council showed +unmeasured delight. Again and again the handjars flashed, as the +cheers rose “three times three” in British fashion.</p> +<p>When Rupert—I am told I must not write him down as “King +Rupert” until after the formal crowning, which is ordained for +Wednesday, October 16th,—and Teuta had withdrawn, the Voivode Peter +Vissarion, the President and Council conferred in committee with the +Presidents of the High Courts of National Law and of Justice as to the +formalities to be observed in the crowning of the King, and of the formal +notification to be given to foreign Powers. These proceedings kept +them far into the night.</p> +<h3>FROM “<i>The London Messenger</i>.”</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Coronation Festivities of the Blue +Mountains</span>.</p> +<p>(<i>From our Special Correspondent</i>.)</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Plazac</span>,<br /> +<i>October</i> 14, 1907.</p> +<p>As I sat down to a poorly-equipped luncheon-table on board the +Austro-Orient liner <i>Franz Joseph</i>, I mourned in my heart (and I may +say incidentally in other portions of my internal economy) the comfort and +gastronomic luxury of the King and Emperor Hotel at Trieste. A brief +comparison between the menus of to-day’s lunch and yesterday’s +will afford to the reader a striking object-lesson:</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Trieste</i>.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><i>Steamer</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Eggs à la cocotte.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Scrambled eggs on toast.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Stewed chicken, with paprika.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Cold chicken.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Devilled slices of Westphalian ham (boiled in wine).</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Cold ham. </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Tunny fish, pickled.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Bismarck herrings.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Rice, burst in cream.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Stewed apples.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Guava jelly.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Swiss cheese.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>Consequence: Yesterday I was well and happy, and looked forward to a +good night’s sleep, which came off. To-day I am dull and heavy, +also restless, and I am convinced that at sleeping-time my liver will have +it all its own way.</p> +<p>The journey to Ragusa, and thence to Plazac, is writ large with a +pigment of misery on at least one human heart. Let a silence fall +upon it! In such wise only can Justice and Mercy join hands.</p> +<p>Plazac is a miserable place. There is not a decent hotel in +it. It was perhaps on this account that the new King, Rupert, had +erected for the alleged convenience of his guests of the Press a series of +large temporary hotels, such as were in evidence at the St. Louis +Exposition. Here each guest was given a room to himself, somewhat +after the nature of the cribs in a Rowton house. From my first night +in it I am able to speak from experience of the sufferings of a prisoner of +the third class. I am, however, bound to say that the dining and +reception rooms were, though uncomfortably plain, adequate for temporary +use. Happily we shall not have to endure many more meals here, as +to-morrow we all dine with the King in the State House; and as the cuisine +is under the control of that <i>cordon bleu</i>, Gaston de Faux Pas, who so +long controlled the gastronomic (we might almost say Gastonomic) destinies +of the Rois des Diamants in the Place Vendôme, we may, I think, look +forward to not going to bed hungry. Indeed, the anticipations formed +from a survey of our meagre sleeping accommodation were not realized at +dinnertime to-night. To our intense astonishment, an excellent dinner +was served, though, to be sure, the cold dishes predominated (a thing I +always find bad for one’s liver). Just as we were finishing, +the King (nominated) came amongst us in quite an informal way, and, having +bidden us a hearty welcome, asked that we should drink a glass of wine +together. This we did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of +Cliquot ’93. King Rupert (nominated) then asked us to resume +our seats. He walked between the tables, now and again recognizing +some journalistic friend whom he had met early in life in his days of +adventure. The men spoken to seemed vastly pleased—with +themselves probably. Pretty bad form of them, I call it! For +myself, I was glad I had not previously met him in the same casual way, as +it saved me from what I should have felt a humiliation—the being +patronized in that public way by a prospective King who had not (in a Court +sense) been born. The writer, who is by profession a +barrister-at-law, is satisfied at being himself a county gentleman and heir +to an historic estate in the ancient county of Salop, which can boast a +larger population than the Land of the Blue Mountains.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Editorial Note</span>.—We must ask our readers +to pardon the report in yesterday’s paper sent from Plazac. The +writer was not on our regular staff, but asked to be allowed to write the +report, as he was a kinsman of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains, and would +therefore be in a position to obtain special information and facilities of +description “from inside,” as he puts it. On reading the +paper, we cabled his recall; we cabled also, in case he did not obey, to +have his ejectment effected forthwith.</p> +<p>We have also cabled Mr. Mordred Booth, the well-known correspondent, who +was, to our knowledge, in Plazac for his own purposes, to send us full (and +proper) details. We take it our readers will prefer a graphic account +of the ceremony to a farrago of cheap menus, comments on his own liver, and +a belittling of an Englishman of such noble character and achievements that +a rising nation has chosen him for their King, and one whom our own nation +loves to honour. We shall not, of course, mention our abortive +correspondent’s name, unless compelled thereto by any future +utterance of his.</p> +<h3>FROM “<i>The London Messenger</i>.”</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">The Coronation of King Rupert of the Blue +Mountains</span>.</p> +<p>(<i>By our Special Correspondent</i>, <i>Mordred Booth</i>.)</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Plazac</span>,<br /> +<i>October</i> 17, 1907.</p> +<p>Plazac does not boast of a cathedral or any church of sufficient +dimensions for a coronation ceremony on an adequate scale. It was +therefore decided by the National Council, with the consent of the King, +that it should be held at the old church of St. Sava at Vissarion—the +former home of the Queen. Accordingly, arrangements had been made to +bring thither on the warships on the morning of the coronation the whole of +the nation’s guests. In St. Sava’s the religious ceremony +would take place, after which there would be a banquet in the Castle of +Vissarion. The guests would then return on the warships to Plazac, +where would be held what is called here the “National +Coronation.”</p> +<p>In the Land of the Blue Mountains it was customary in the old days, when +there were Kings, to have two ceremonies—one carried out by the +official head of the national Church, the Greek Church; the other by the +people in a ritual adopted by themselves, on much the same basis as the +Germanic Folk-Moot. The Blue Mountains is a nation of strangely loyal +tendencies. What was a thousand years ago is to be to-day—so +far, of course, as is possible under the altered condition of things.</p> +<p>The church of St. Sava is very old and very beautiful, built in the +manner of old Greek churches, full of monuments of bygone worthies of the +Blue Mountains. But, of course, neither it nor the ceremony held in +it to-day can compare in splendour with certain other ceremonials—for +instance, the coronation of the penultimate Czar in Moscow, of Alfonso XII. +in Madrid, of Carlos I. in Lisbon.</p> +<p>The church was arranged much after the fashion of Westminster Abbey for +the coronation of King Edward VII., though, of course, not so many persons +present, nor so much individual splendour. Indeed, the number of +those present, outside those officially concerned and the Press of the +world, was very few.</p> +<p>The most striking figure present—next to King Rupert, who is seven +feet high and a magnificent man—was the Queen Consort, Teuta. +She sat in front of a small gallery erected for the purpose just opposite +the throne. She is a strikingly beautiful woman, tall and +finely-formed, with jet-black hair and eyes like black diamonds, but with +the unique quality that there are stars in them which seem to take varied +colour according to each strong emotion. But it was not even her +beauty or the stars in her eyes which drew the first glance of all. +These details showed on scrutiny, but from afar off the attractive point +was her dress. Surely never before did woman, be she Queen or +peasant, wear such a costume on a festive occasion.</p> +<p>She was dressed in a white <i>Shroud</i>, and in that only. I had +heard something of the story which goes behind that strange costume, and +shall later on send it to you. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2" +class="citation">[2]</a></p> +<p>When the procession entered the church through the great western door, +the national song of the Blue Mountains, “Guide our feet through +darkness, O Jehovah,” was sung by an unseen choir, in which the +organ, supplemented by martial instruments, joined. The Archbishop +was robed in readiness before the altar, and close around him stood the +Archimandrites of the four great monasteries. The Vladika stood in +front of the Members of the National Council. A little to one side of +this body was a group of high officials, Presidents of the Councils of +National Law and Justice, the Chancellor, etc.—all in splendid robes +of great antiquity—the High Marshall of the Forces and the Lord high +Admiral.</p> +<p>When all was ready for the ceremonial act of coronation, the Archbishop +raised his hand, whereupon the music ceased. Turning around, so that +he faced the Queen, who thereon stood up, the King drew his handjar and +saluted her in Blue Mountain fashion—the point raised as high +possible, and then dropped down till it almost touches the ground. +Every man in the church, ecclesiastics and all, wear the handjar, and, +following the King by the interval of a second, their weapons flashed +out. There was something symbolic, as well as touching, in this truly +royal salute, led by the King. His handjar is a mighty blade, and +held high in the hands of a man of his stature, it overtowered everything +in the church. It was an inspiriting sight. No one who saw will +ever forget that noble flashing of blades in the thousand-year-old salute . +. .</p> +<p>The coronation was short, simple, and impressive. Rupert knelt +whilst the Archbishop, after a short, fervent prayer, placed on his head +the bronze crown of the first King of the Blue Mountains, Peter. This +was handed to him by the Vladika, to whom it was brought from the National +Treasury by a procession of the high officers. A blessing of the new +King and his Queen Teuta concluded the ceremony. Rupert’s first +act on rising from his knees was to draw his handjar and salute his +people.</p> +<p>After the ceremony in St. Sava, the procession was reformed, and took +its way to the Castle of Vissarion, which is some distance off across a +picturesque creek, bounded on either side by noble cliffs of vast +height. The King led the way, the Queen walking with him and holding +his hand . . . The Castle of Vissarion is of great antiquity, and +picturesque beyond belief. I am sending later on, as a special +article, a description of it . . .</p> +<p>The “Coronation Feast,” as it was called on the menu, was +held in the Great Hall, which is of noble proportions. I enclose copy +of the menu, as our readers may wish to know something of the details of +such a feast in this part of the world.</p> +<p>One feature of the banquet was specially noticeable. As the +National Officials were guests of the King and Queen, they were waited on +and served by the King and Queen in person. The rest of the guests, +including us of the Press, were served by the King’s household, not +the servants—none of that cult were visible—but by the ladies +and gentlemen of the Court.</p> +<p>There was only one toast, and that was given by the King, all standing: +“The Land of the Blue Mountains, and may we all do our duty to the +Land we love!” Before drinking, his mighty handjar flashed out +again, and in an instant every table at which the Blue Mountaineers sat was +ringed with flashing steel. I may add parenthetically that the +handjar is essentially the national weapon. I do not know if the Blue +Mountaineers take it to bed with them, but they certainly wear it +everywhere else. Its drawing seems to emphasize everything in +national life . . .</p> +<p>We embarked again on the warships—one a huge, steel-plated +Dreadnought, up to date in every particular, the other an armoured yacht +most complete in every way, and of unique speed. The King and Queen, +the Lords of the Council, together with the various high ecclesiastics and +great officials, went on the yacht, which the Lord High Admiral, a man of +remarkably masterful physiognomy, himself steered. The rest of those +present at the Coronation came on the warship. The latter went fast, +but the yacht showed her heels all the way. However, the King’s +party waited in the dock in the Blue Mouth. From this a new +cable-line took us all to the State House at Plazac. Here the +procession was reformed, and wound its way to a bare hill in the immediate +vicinity. The King and Queen—the King still wearing the ancient +bronze crown with which the Archbishop had invested him at St. +Sava’s—the Archbishop, the Vladika, and the four Archimandrites +stood together at the top of the hill, the King and Queen being, of course, +in the front. A courteous young gentleman, to whom I had been +accredited at the beginning of the day—all guests were so +attended—explained to me that, as this was the national as opposed to +the religious ceremony, the Vladika, who is the official representative of +the laity, took command here. The ecclesiastics were put prominently +forward, simply out of courtesy, in obedience to the wish of the people, by +whom they were all greatly beloved.</p> +<p>Then commenced another unique ceremony, which, indeed, might well find a +place in our Western countries. As far as ever we could see were +masses of men roughly grouped, not in any uniform, but all in national +costume, and armed only with the handjar. In the front of each of +these groups or bodies stood the National Councillor for that district, +distinguishable by his official robe and chain. There were in all +seventeen of these bodies. These were unequal in numbers, some of +them predominating enormously over others, as, indeed, might be expected in +so mountainous a country. In all there were present, I was told, over +a hundred thousand men. So far as I can judge from long experience of +looking at great bodies of men, the estimate was a just one. I was a +little surprised to see so many, for the population of the Blue Mountains +is never accredited in books of geography as a large one. When I made +inquiry as to how the frontier guard was being for the time maintained, I +was told:</p> +<p>“By the women mainly. But, all the same, we have also a male +guard which covers the whole frontier except that to seaward. Each +man has with him six women, so that the whole line is unbroken. +Moreover, sir, you must bear in mind that in the Blue Mountains our women +are trained to arms as well as our men—ay, and they could give a good +account of themselves, too, against any foe that should assail us. +Our history shows what women can do in defence. I tell you, the +Turkish population would be bigger to-day but for the women who on our +frontier fought of old for defence of their homes!”</p> +<p>“No wonder this nation has kept her freedom for a thousand +years!” I said.</p> +<p>At a signal given by the President of the National Council one of the +Divisions moved forwards. It was not an ordinary movement, but an +intense rush made with all the <i>elan</i> and vigour of hardy and +highly-trained men. They came on, not merely at the double, but as if +delivering an attack. Handjar in hand, they rushed forward. I +can only compare their rush to an artillery charge or to an attack of +massed cavalry battalions. It was my fortune to see the former at +Magenta and the latter at Sadowa, so that I know what such illustration +means. I may also say that I saw the relief column which Roberts +organized rush through a town on its way to relieve Mafeking; and no one +who had the delight of seeing that inspiring progress of a flying army on +their way to relieve their comrades needs to be told what a rush of armed +men can be. With speed which was simply desperate they ran up the +hill, and, circling to the left, made a ring round the topmost plateau, +where stood the King. When the ring was complete, the stream went on +lapping round and round till the whole tally was exhausted. In the +meantime another Division had followed, its leader joining close behind the +end of the first. Then came another and another. An unbroken +line circled and circled round the hill in seeming endless array, till the +whole slopes were massed with moving men, dark in colour, and with +countless glittering points everywhere. When the whole of the +Divisions had thus surrounded the King, there was a moment’s +hush—a silence so still that it almost seemed as if Nature stood +still also. We who looked on were almost afraid to breathe.</p> +<p>Then suddenly, without, so far as I could see, any fugleman or word of +command, the handjars of all that mighty array of men flashed upward as +one, and like thunder pealed the National cry:</p> +<p>“The Blue Mountains and Duty!”</p> +<p>After the cry there was a strange subsidence which made the onlooker rub +his eyes. It seemed as though the whole mass of fighting men had +partially sunk into the ground. Then the splendid truth burst upon +us—the whole nation was kneeling at the feet of their chosen King, +who stood upright.</p> +<p>Another moment of silence, as King Rupert, taking off his crown, held it +up in his left hand, and, holding his great handjar high in his right, +cried in a voice so strong that it came ringing over that serried mass like +a trumpet:</p> +<p>“To Freedom of our Nation, and to Freedom within it, I dedicate +these and myself. I swear!”</p> +<p>So saying, he, too, sank on his knees, whilst we all instinctively +uncovered.</p> +<p>The silence which followed lasted several seconds; then, without a sign, +as though one and all acted instinctively, the whole body stood up. +Thereupon was executed a movement which, with all my experience of soldiers +and war, I never saw equalled—not with the Russian Royal Guard +saluting the Czar at his Coronation, not with an impi of Cetewayo’s +Zulus whirling through the opening of a kraal.</p> +<p>For a second or two the whole mass seemed to writhe or shudder, and +then, lo! the whole District Divisions were massed again in completeness, +its Councillors next the King, and the Divisions radiating outwards down +the hill like wedges.</p> +<p>This completed the ceremony, and everything broke up into units. +Later, I was told by my official friend that the King’s last +movement—the oath as he sank to his knees—was an innovation of +his own. All I can say is, if, in the future, and for all time, it is +not taken for a precedent, and made an important part of the Patriotic +Coronation ceremony, the Blue Mountaineers will prove themselves to be a +much more stupid people than they seem at present to be.</p> +<p>The conclusion of the Coronation festivities was a time of unalloyed +joy. It was the banquet given to the King and Queen by the nation; +the guests of the nation were included in the royal party. It was a +unique ceremony. Fancy a picnic-party of a hundred thousand persons, +nearly all men. There must have been made beforehand vast and +elaborate preparations, ramifying through the whole nation. Each +section had brought provisions sufficient for their own consumption in +addition to several special dishes for the guest-tables; but the +contribution of each section was not consumed by its own members.</p> +<p>It was evidently a part of the scheme that all should derive from a +common stock, so that the feeling of brotherhood and common property should +be preserved in this monumental fashion.</p> +<p>The guest-tables were the only tables to be seen. The bulk of the +feasters sat on the ground. The tables were brought forward by the +men themselves—no such thing as domestic service was known on this +day—from a wood close at hand, where they and the chairs had been +placed in readiness. The linen and crockery used had been sent for +the purpose from the households of every town and village. The +flowers were plucked in the mountains early that morning by the children, +and the gold and silver plate used for adornment were supplied from the +churches. Each dish at the guest-tables was served by the men of each +section in turn.</p> +<p>Over the whole array seemed to be spread an atmosphere of joyousness, of +peace, of brotherhood. It would be impossible to adequately describe +that amazing scene, a whole nation of splendid men surrounding their new +King and Queen, loving to honour and serve them. Scattered about +through that vast crowd were groups of musicians, chosen from amongst +themselves. The space covered by this titanic picnic was so vast that +there were few spots from which you could hear music proceeding from +different quarters.</p> +<p>After dinner we all sat and smoked; the music became rather vocal than +instrumental—indeed, presently we did not hear the sound of any +instrument at all. Only knowing a few words of Balkan, I could not +follow the meanings of the songs, but I gathered that they were all +legendary or historical. To those who could understand, as I was +informed by my tutelary young friend, who stayed beside me the whole of +this memorable day, we were listening to the history of the Land of the +Blue Mountains in ballad form. Somewhere or other throughout that +vast concourse each notable record of ten centuries was being told to eager +ears.</p> +<p>It was now late in the day. Slowly the sun had been dropping down +over the Calabrian Mountains, and the glamorous twilight was stealing over +the immediate scene. No one seemed to notice the coming of the dark, +which stole down on us with an unspeakable mystery. For long we sat +still, the clatter of many tongues becoming stilled into the witchery of +the scene. Lower the sun sank, till only the ruddiness of the +afterglow lit the expanse with rosy light; then this failed in turn, and +the night shut down quickly.</p> +<p>At last, when we could just discern the faces close to us, a +simultaneous movement began. Lights began to flash out in places all +over the hillside. At first these seemed as tiny as glow-worms seen +in a summer wood, but by degrees they grew till the space was set with +little circles of light. These in turn grew and grew in both number +and strength. Flames began to leap out from piles of wood, torches +were lighted and held high. Then the music began again, softly at +first, but then louder as the musicians began to gather to the centre, +where sat the King and Queen. The music was wild and semi-barbaric, +but full of sweet melody. It somehow seemed to bring before us a +distant past; one and all, according to the strength of our imagination and +the volume of our knowledge, saw episodes and phases of bygone history come +before us. There was a wonderful rhythmic, almost choric, force in +the time kept, which made it almost impossible to sit still. It was +an invitation to the dance such as I had never before heard in any nation +or at any time. Then the lights began to gather round. Once +more the mountaineers took something of the same formation as at the +crowning. Where the royal party sat was a level mead, with crisp, +short grass, and round it what one might well call the Ring of the Nation +was formed.</p> +<p>The music grew louder. Each mountaineer who had not a lit torch +already lighted one, and the whole rising hillside was a glory of +light. The Queen rose, and the King an instant after. As they +rose men stepped forward and carried away their chairs, or rather +thrones. The Queen gave the King her hand—this is, it seems, +the privilege of the wife as distinguished from any other woman. +Their feet took the time of the music, and they moved into the centre of +the ring.</p> +<p>That dance was another thing to remember, won from the haunting memories +of that strange day. At first the King and Queen danced all +alone. They began with stately movement, but as the music quickened +their feet kept time, and the swing of their bodies with movements kept +growing more and more ecstatic at every beat till, in true Balkan fashion, +the dance became a very agony of passionate movement.</p> +<p>At this point the music slowed down again, and the mountaineers began to +join in the dance. At first slowly, one by one, they joined in, the +Vladika and the higher priests leading; then everywhere the whole vast +crowd began to dance, till the earth around us seemed to shake. The +lights quivered, flickered, blazed out again, and rose and fell as that +hundred thousand men, each holding a torch, rose and fell with the rhythm +of the dance. Quicker, quicker grew the music, faster grew the +rushing and pounding of the feet, till the whole nation seemed now in an +ecstasy.</p> +<p>I stood near the Vladika, and in the midst of this final wildness I saw +him draw from his belt a short, thin flute; then he put it to his lips and +blew a single note—a fierce, sharp note, which pierced the volume of +sound more surely than would the thunder of a cannon-shot. On the +instant everywhere each man put his torch under his foot.</p> +<p>There was complete and immediate darkness, for the fires, which had by +now fallen low, had evidently been trodden out in the measure of the +dance. The music still kept in its rhythmic beat, but slower than it +had yet been. Little by little this beat was pointed and emphasized +by the clapping of hands—at first only a few, but spreading till +everyone present was beating hands to the slow music in the darkness. +This lasted a little while, during which, looking round, I noticed a faint +light beginning to steal up behind the hills. The moon was +rising.</p> +<p>Again there came a note from the Vladika’s flute—a single +note, sweet and subtle, which I can only compare with a note from a +nightingale, vastly increased in powers. It, too, won through the +thunder of the hand-claps, and on the second the sound ceased. The +sudden stillness, together with the darkness, was so impressive that we +could almost hear our hearts beating. And then came through the +darkness the most beautiful and impressive sound heard yet. That +mighty concourse, without fugleman of any sort, began, in low, fervent +voice, to sing the National Anthem. At first it was of so low tone as +to convey the idea of a mighty assembly of violinists playing with the +mutes on. But it gradually rose till the air above us seemed to throb +and quiver. Each syllable—each word—spoken in unison by +the vast throng was as clearly enunciated as though spoken by a single +voice:</p> +<p>“Guide our feet through darkness, O Jehovah.”</p> +<p>This anthem, sung out of full hearts, remains on our minds as the last +perfection of a perfect day. For myself, I am not ashamed to own that +it made me weep like a child. Indeed, I cannot write of it now as I +would; it unmans me so!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>In the early morning, whilst the mountains were still rather grey than +blue, the cable-line took us to the Blue Mouth, where we embarked in the +King’s yacht, <i>The Lady</i>, which took us across the Adriatic at a +pace which I had hitherto considered impossible. The King and Queen +came to the landing to see us off. They stood together at the +right-hand side of the red-carpeted gangway, and shook hands with each +guest as he went on board. The instant the last passenger had stepped +on deck the gangway was withdrawn. The Lord High Admiral, who stood +on the bridge, raised his hand, and we swept towards the mouth of the +gulf. Of course, all hats were off, and we cheered frantically. +I can truly say that if King Rupert and Queen Teuta should ever wish to +found in the Blue Mountains a colony of diplomatists and journalists, those +who were their guests on this great occasion will volunteer to a man. +I think old Hempetch, who is the doyen of English-speaking journalists, +voiced our sentiments when he said:</p> +<p>“May God bless them and theirs with every grace and happiness, and +send prosperity to the Land and the rule!” I think the King and +Queen heard us cheer, they turned to look at our flying ship again.</p> +<h2>BOOK IX: BALKA</h2> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i> (<i>Longe +Intervallo</i>).</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>February</i> 10, 1908.</p> +<p>It is so long since I even thought of this journal that I hardly know +where to begin. I always heard that a married man is a pretty busy +man; but since I became one, though it is a new life to me, and of a +happiness undreamt of, I <i>know</i> what that life is. But I had no +idea that this King business was anything like what it is. Why, it +never leaves me a moment at all to myself—or, what is worse, to +Teuta. If people who condemn Kings had only a single month of my life +in that capacity, they would form an opinion different from that which they +hold. It might be useful to have a Professor of Kingship in the +Anarchists’ College—whenever it is founded!</p> +<p>Everything has gone on well with us, I am glad to say. Teuta is in +splendid health, though she has—but only very +lately—practically given up going on her own aeroplane. It was, +I know, a great sacrifice to make, just as she had become an expert at +it. They say here that she is one of the best drivers in the Blue +Mountains—and that is in the world, for we have made that form of +movement our own. Ever since we found the pitch-blende pockets in the +Great Tunnel, and discovered the simple process of extracting the radium +from it, we have gone on by leaps and bounds. When first Teuta told +me she would “aero” no more for a while, I thought she was +wise, and backed her up in it: for driving an aeroplane is trying work and +hard on the nerves. I only learned then the reason for her +caution—the usual one of a young wife. That was three months +ago, and only this morning she told me she would not go sailing in the air, +even with me, till she could do so “without risk”—she did +not mean risk to herself. Aunt Janet knew what she meant, and +counselled her strongly to stick to her resolution. So for the next +few months I am to do my air-sailing alone.</p> +<p>The public works which we began immediately after the Coronation are +going strong. We began at the very beginning on an elaborate +system. The first thing was to adequately fortify the Blue +Mouth. Whilst the fortifications were being constructed we kept all +the warships in the gulf. But when the point of safety was reached, +we made the ships do sentry-go along the coast, whilst we trained men for +service at sea. It is our plan to take by degrees all the young men +and teach them this wise, so that at the end the whole population shall be +trained for sea as well as for land. And as we are teaching them the +airship service, too, they will be at home in all the elements—except +fire, of course, though if that should become a necessity, we shall tackle +it too!</p> +<p>We started the Great Tunnel at the farthest inland point of the Blue +Mouth, and ran it due east at an angle of 45 degrees, so that, when +complete, it would go right through the first line of hills, coming out on +the plateau Plazac. The plateau is not very wide—half a mile at +most—and the second tunnel begins on the eastern side of it. +This new tunnel is at a smaller angle, as it has to pierce the second +hill—a mountain this time. When it comes out on the east side +of that, it will tap the real productive belt. Here it is that our +hardwood-trees are finest, and where the greatest mineral deposits are +found. This plateau is of enormous length, and runs north arid south +round the great bulk of the central mountain, so that in time, when we put +up a circular railway, we can bring, at a merely nominal cost, all sorts of +material up or down. It is on this level that we have built the great +factories for war material. We are tunnelling into the mountains, +where are the great deposits of coal. We run the trucks in and out on +the level, and can get perfect ventilation with little cost or +labour. Already we are mining all the coal which we consume within +our own confines, and we can, if we wish, within a year export +largely. The great slopes of these tunnels give us the necessary aid +of specific gravity, and as we carry an endless water-supply in great tubes +that way also, we can do whatever we wish by hydraulic power. As one +by one the European and Asiatic nations began to reduce their war +preparations, we took over their disbanded workmen though our agents, so +that already we have a productive staff of skilled workmen larger than +anywhere else in the world. I think myself that we were fortunate in +being able to get ahead so fast with our preparations for war manufacture, +for if some of the “Great Powers,” as they call themselves, +knew the measure of our present production, they would immediately try to +take active measures against us. In such case we should have to fight +them, which would delay us. But if we can have another year +untroubled, we shall, so far as war material is concerned, be able to defy +any nation in the world. And if the time may only come peacefully +till we have our buildings and machinery complete, we can prepare +war-stores and implements for the whole Balkan nations. And +then—But that is a dream. We shall know in good time.</p> +<p>In the meantime all goes well. The cannon foundries are built and +active. We are already beginning to turn out finished work. Of +course, our first guns are not very large, but they are good. The big +guns, and especially siege-guns, will come later. And when the great +extensions are complete, and the boring and wire-winding machines are in +working order, we can go merrily on. I suppose that by that time the +whole of the upper plateau will be like a manufacturing town—at any +rate, we have plenty of raw material to hand. The haematite mines +seem to be inexhaustible, and as the raising of the ore is cheap and easy +by means of our extraordinary water-power, and as coal comes down to the +plateau by its own gravity on the cable-line, we have natural advantages +which exist hardly anywhere else in the world—certainly not all +together, as here. That bird’s eye view of the Blue Mouth which +we had from the aeroplane when Teuta saw that vision of the future has not +been in vain. The aeroplane works are having a splendid output. +The aeroplane is a large and visible product; there is no mistaking when it +is there! We have already a large and respectable aerial fleet. +The factories for explosives are, of course, far away in bare valleys, +where accidental effects are minimized. So, too, are the radium +works, wherein unknown dangers may lurk. The turbines in the tunnel +give us all the power we want at present, and, later on, when the new +tunnel, which we call the “water tunnel,” which is already +begun, is complete, the available power will be immense. All these +works are bringing up our shipping, and we are in great hopes for the +future.</p> +<p>So much for our material prosperity. But with it comes a larger +life and greater hopes. The stress of organizing and founding these +great works is practically over. As they are not only +self-supporting, but largely productive, all anxiety in the way of national +expenditure is minimized. And, more than all, I am able to give my +unhampered attention to those matters of even more than national importance +on which the ultimate development, if not the immediate strength, of our +country must depend.</p> +<p>I am well into the subject of a great Balkan Federation. This, it +turns out, has for long been the dream of Teuta’s life, as also that +of the present Archimandrite of Plazac, her father, who, since I last +touched this journal, having taken on himself a Holy Life, was, by will of +the Church, the Monks, and the People, appointed to that great office on +the retirement of Petrof Vlastimir.</p> +<p>Such a Federation had long been in the air. For myself, I had seen +its inevitableness from the first. The modern aggressions of the Dual +Nation, interpreted by her past history with regard to Italy, pointed +towards the necessity of such a protective measure. And now, when +Servia and Bulgaria were used as blinds to cover her real movements to +incorporate with herself as established the provinces, once Turkish, which +had been entrusted to her temporary protection by the Treaty of Berlin; +when it would seem that Montenegro was to be deprived for all time of the +hope of regaining the Bocche di Cattaro, which she had a century ago won, +and held at the point of the sword, until a Great Power had, under a wrong +conviction, handed it over to her neighbouring Goliath; when the Sandjack +of Novi-Bazar was threatened with the fate which seemed to have already +overtaken Bosnia and Herzegovina; when gallant little Montenegro was +already shut out from the sea by the octopus-like grip of Dalmatia +crouching along her western shore; when Turkey was dwindling down to almost +ineptitude; when Greece was almost a byword, and when Albania as a +nation—though still nominally subject—was of such unimpaired +virility that there were great possibilities of her future, it was +imperative that something must happen if the Balkan race was not to be +devoured piecemeal by her northern neighbours. To the end of ultimate +protection I found most of them willing to make defensive alliance.</p> +<p>And as the true defence consists in judicious attack, I have no doubt +that an alliance so based must ultimately become one for all +purposes. Albania was the most difficult to win to the scheme, as her +own complications with her suzerain, combined with the pride and +suspiciousness of her people, made approach a matter of extreme +caution. It was only possible when I could induce her rulers to see +that, no matter how great her pride and valour, the magnitude of northern +advance, if unchecked, must ultimately overwhelm her.</p> +<p>I own that this map-making was nervous work, for I could not shut my +eyes to the fact that German lust of enlargement lay behind Austria’s +advance. At and before that time expansion was the dominant idea of +the three Great Powers of Central Europe. Russia went eastward, +hoping to gather to herself the rich north-eastern provinces of China, till +ultimately she should dominate the whole of Northern Europe and Asia from +the Gulf of Finland to the Yellow Sea. Germany wished to link the +North Sea to the Mediterranean by her own territory, and thus stand as a +flawless barrier across Europe from north to south.</p> +<p>When Nature should have terminated the headship of the Empire-Kingdom, +she, as natural heir, would creep southward through the German-speaking +provinces. Thus Austria, of course kept in ignorance of her +neighbour’s ultimate aims, had to extend towards the south. She +had been barred in her western movement by the rise of the Irredentist +party in Italy, and consequently had to withdraw behind the frontiers of +Carinthia, Carniola, and Istria.</p> +<p>My own dream of the new map was to make “Balka”—the +Balkan Federation—take in ultimately all south of a line drawn from +the Isle of Serpents to Aquileia. There would—must—be +difficulties in the carrying out of such a scheme. Of course, it +involved Austria giving up Dalmatia, Istria, and Sclavonia, as well as a +part of Croatia and the Hungarian Banat. On the contrary, she might +look for centuries of peace in the south. But it would make for peace +so strongly that each of the States impinging on it would find it worth +while to make a considerable sacrifice to have it effected. To its +own integers it would offer a lasting settlement of interests which at +present conflicted, and a share in a new world-power. Each of these +integers would be absolutely self-governing and independent, being only +united for purposes of mutual good. I did not despair that even +Turkey and Greece, recognizing that benefit and safety would ensue without +the destruction or even minimizing of individuality, would, sooner or +later, come into the Federation. The matter is already so far +advanced that within a month the various rulers of the States involved are +to have a secret and informal meeting. Doubtless some larger plan and +further action will be then evolved. It will be an anxious time for +all in this zone—and outside it—till this matter is all +settled. In any case, the manufacture of war material will go on +until it is settled, one way or another.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>March</i> 6, 1908.</p> +<p>I breathe more freely. The meeting has taken place here at +Vissarion. Nominal cause of meeting: a hunting-party in the Blue +Mountains. Not any formal affair. Not a Chancellor or Secretary +of State or Diplomatist of any sort present. All headquarters. +It was, after all, a real hunting-party. Good sportsmen, plenty of +game, lots of beaters, everything organized properly, and an effective +tally of results. I think we all enjoyed ourselves in the matter of +sport; and as the political result was absolute unanimity of purpose and +intention, there could be no possible cause of complaint.</p> +<p>So it is all decided. Everything is pacific. There is not a +suggestion even of war, revolt, or conflicting purpose of any kind. +We all go on exactly as we are doing for another year, pursuing our own +individual objects, just as at present. But we are all to see that in +our own households order prevails. All that is supposed to be +effective is to be kept in good working order, and whatever is, at present, +not adequate to possibilities is to be made so. This is all simply +protective and defensive. We understand each other. But if any +hulking stranger should undertake to interfere in our domestic concerns, we +shall all unite on the instant to keep things as we wish them to +remain. We shall be ready. Alfred’s maxim of Peace shall +be once more exemplified. In the meantime the factories shall work +overtime in our own mountains, and the output shall be for the general good +of our special community—the bill to be settled afterwards +amicably. There can hardly be any difference of opinion about that, +as the others will be the consumers of our surplus products. We are +the producers, who produce for ourselves first, and then for the limited +market of those within the Ring. As we undertake to guard our own +frontiers—sea and land—and are able to do so, the goods are to +be warehoused in the Blue Mountains until required—if at +all—for participation in the markets of the world, and especially in +the European market. If all goes well and the markets are inactive, +the goods shall be duly delivered to the purchasers as arranged.</p> +<p>So much for the purely mercantile aspect.</p> +<h3>THE VOIVODIN JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>May</i> 21, 1908.</p> +<p>As Rupert began to neglect his Journal when he was made a King, so, too, +I find in myself a tendency to leave writing to other people. But one +thing I shall not be content to leave to others—little Rupert. +The baby of Rupert and Teuta is much too precious a thing to be spoken of +except with love, quite independent of the fact that he will be, in natural +course, a King! So I have promised Teuta that whatever shall be put +into this record of the first King of the Sent Leger Dynasty relating to +His Royal Highness the Crown Prince shall only appear in either her hand or +my own. And she has deputed the matter to me.</p> +<p>Our dear little Prince arrived punctually and in perfect +condition. The angels that carried him evidently took the greatest +care of him, and before they left him they gave him dower of all their +best. He is a dear! Like both his father and his mother, and +that says everything. My own private opinion is that he is a born +King! He does not know what fear is, and he thinks more of everyone +else than he does of his dear little self. And if those things do not +show a truly royal nature, I do not know what does . . .</p> +<p>Teuta has read this. She held up a warning finger, and said:</p> +<p>“Aunt Janet dear, that is all true. He is a dear, and a +King, and an angel! But we mustn’t have too much about him just +yet. This book is to be about Rupert. So our little man can +only be what we shall call a corollary.” And so it is.</p> +<p>I should mention here that the book is Teuta’s idea. Before +little Rupert came she controlled herself wonderfully, doing only what was +thought best for her under the circumstances. As I could see that it +would be a help for her to have some quiet occupation which would interest +her without tiring her, I looked up (with his permission, of course) all +Rupert’s old letters and diaries, and journals and reports—all +that I had kept for him during his absences on his adventures. At +first I was a little afraid they might harm her, for at times she got so +excited over some things that I had to caution her. Here again came +in her wonderful self-control. I think the most soothing argument I +used with her was to point out that the dear boy had come through all the +dangers safely, and was actually with us, stronger and nobler than +ever.</p> +<p>After we had read over together the whole matter several times—for +it was practically new to me too, and I got nearly as excited as she was, +though I have known him so much longer—we came to the conclusion that +this particular volume would have to be of selected matter. There is +enough of Rupert’s work to make a lot of volumes and we have an +ambitious literary project of some day publishing an <i>edition de luxe</i> +of his whole collected works. It will be a rare showing amongst the +works of Kings. But this is to be all about himself, so that in the +future it may serve as a sort of backbone of his personal history.</p> +<p>By-and-by we came to a part when we had to ask him questions; and he was +so interested in Teuta’s work—he is really bound up body and +soul in his beautiful wife, and no wonder—that we had to take him +into full confidence. He promised he would help us all he could by +giving us the use of his later journals, and such letters and papers as he +had kept privately. He said he would make one condition—I use +his own words: “As you two dear women are to be my editors, you must +promise to put in everything exactly as I wrote it. It will not do to +have any fake about this. I do not wish anything foolish or +egotistical toned down out of affection for me. It was all written in +sincerity, and if I had faults, they must not be hidden. If it is to +be history, it must be true history, even if it gives you and me or any of +us away.”</p> +<p>So we promised.</p> +<p>He also said that, as Sir Edward Bingham Trent, Bart.—as he is +now—was sure to have some matter which we should like, he would write +and ask him to send such to us. He also said that Mr. Ernest Roger +Halbard Melton, of Humcroft, Salop (he always gives this name and address +in full, which is his way of showing contempt), would be sure to have some +relevant matter, and that he would have him written to on the +subject. This he did. The Chancellor wrote him in his most +grandiloquent style. Mr. E. R. H. Melton, of H., S., replied by +return post. His letter is a document which speaks for itself:</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Humcroft</span>, <span +class="smcap">Salop</span>,<br /> +<i>May</i> 30, 1908.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear cousin King Rupert</span>,</p> +<p>I am honoured by the request made on your behalf by the Lord High +Chancellor of your kingdom that I should make a literary contribution to +the volume which my cousin, Queen Teuta, is, with the help of your former +governess, Miss MacKelpie, compiling. I am willing to do so, as you +naturally wish to have in that work some contemporary record made by the +Head of the House of Melton, with which you are connected, though only on +the distaff side. It is a natural ambition enough, even on the part +of a barbarian—or perhaps semi-barbarian—King, and far be it +from me, as Head of the House, to deny you such a coveted privilege. +Perhaps you may not know that I am now Head of the House; my father died +three days ago. I offered my mother the use of the Dower +House—to the incumbency of which, indeed, she is entitled by her +marriage settlement. But she preferred to go to live at her seat, +Carfax, in Kent. She went this morning after the funeral. In +letting you have the use of my manuscript I make only one stipulation, but +that I expect to be rigidly adhered to. It is that all that I have +written be put in the book <i>in extenso</i>. I do not wish any +record of mine to be garbled to suit other ends than those ostensible, or +whatever may be to the honour of myself or my House to be burked. I +dare say you have noticed, my dear Rupert, that the compilers of family +histories often, through jealousy, alter matter that they are allowed to +use so as to suit their own purpose or minister to their own vanity. +I think it right to tell you that I have had a certified copy made by +Petter and Galpin, the law stationers, so that I shall be able to verify +whether my stipulation has been honourably observed. I am having the +book, which is naturally valuable, carefully packed, and shall have it +forwarded to Sir Edward Bingham Trent, Baronet (which he now +is—Heaven save the mark!), the Attorney. Please see that he +returns it to me, and in proper order. He is not to publish for +himself anything in it about him. A man of that class is apt to +advertise the fact of anyone of distinction taking any notice of him. +I would bring out the MS. to you myself, and stay for a while with you for +some sport, only your lot—subjects I suppose you call them!—are +such bounders that a gentleman’s life is hardly safe amongst +them. I never met anyone who had so poor an appreciation of a joke as +they have. By the way, how is Teuta? She is one of them. +I heard all about the hatching business. I hope the kid is all +right. This is only a word in your ear, so don’t get cocky, old +son. I am open to a godfathership. Think of that, Hedda! +Of course, if the other godfather and the godmother are up to the mark; I +don’t want to have to boost up the whole lot! Savvy? Kiss +Teuta and the kid for me. I must have the boy over here for a bit +later on—when he is presentable, and has learned not to be a +nuisance. It will be good for him to see something of a real +first-class English country house like Humcroft. To a person only +accustomed to rough ways and meagre living its luxury will make a memory +which will serve in time as an example to be aimed at. I shall write +again soon. Don’t hesitate to ask any favour which I may be +able to confer on you. So long!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your affectionate cousin,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ernest Roger Halbard Melton</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Extract from Letter from E. Bingham Trent to Queen Teuta of the Blue +Mountains</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>. . . So I thought the best way to serve that appalling cad would be to +take him at his word, and put in his literary contribution in full. I +have had made and attested a copy of his “Record,” as he calls +it, so as to save you trouble. But I send the book itself, because I +am afraid that unless you see his words in his own writing, you will not +believe that he or anyone else ever penned seriously a document so +incriminating. I am sure he must have forgotten what he had written, +for even such a dull dog as he is could never have made public such a thing +knowingly. . . Such a nature has its revenges on itself. In this case +the officers of revenge are his <i>ipsissima verba</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>February</i> 1, 1909.</p> +<p>All is now well in train. When the Czar of Russia, on being asked +by the Sclavs (as was meet) to be the referee in the “Balkan +Settlement,” declined on the ground that he was himself by inference +an interested party, it was unanimously agreed by the Balkan rulers that +the Western King should be asked to arbitrate, as all concerned had perfect +confidence in his wisdom, as well as his justice. To their wish he +graciously assented. The matter has now been for more than six months +in his hands, and he has taken endless trouble to obtain full +information. He has now informed us through his Chancellor that his +decision is almost ready, and will be communicated as soon as possible.</p> +<p>We have another hunting-party at Vissarion next week. Teuta is +looking forward to it with extraordinary interest. She hopes then to +present to our brothers of the Balkans our little son, and she is eager to +know if they endorse her mother-approval of him.</p> +<h3>RUPERT’S JOURNAL—<i>Continued</i>.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>April</i> 15, 1909.</p> +<p>The arbitrator’s decision has been communicated to us through the +Chancellor of the Western King, who brought it to us himself as a special +act of friendliness. It met with the enthusiastic approval of +all. The Premier remained with us during the progress of the +hunting-party, which was one of the most joyous occasions ever known. +We are all of good heart, for the future of the Balkan races is now +assured. The strife—internal and external—of a thousand +years has ceased, and we look with hope for a long and happy time. +The Chancellor brought messages of grace and courtliness and friendliness +to all. And when I, as spokesman of the party, asked him if we might +convey a request of His Majesty that he would honour us by attending the +ceremony of making known formally the Balkan Settlement, he answered that +the King had authorized him to say that he would, if such were wished by +us, gladly come; and that if he should come, he would attend with a fleet +as an escort. The Chancellor also told me from himself that it might +be possible to have other nationalities represented on such a great +occasion by Ambassadors and even fleets, though the monarchs themselves +might not be able to attend. He hinted that it might be well if I put +the matter in train. (He evidently took it for granted that, though I +was only one of several, the matter rested with me—possibly he chose +me as the one to whom to make the confidence, as I was born a +stranger.) As we talked it over, he grew more enthusiastic, and +finally said that, as the King was taking the lead, doubtless all the +nations of the earth friendly to him would like to take a part in the +ceremony. So it is likely to turn out practically an international +ceremony of a unique kind. Teuta will love it, and we shall all do +what we can.</p> +<h3>JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.</h3> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>June</i> 1, 1909.</p> +<p>Our dear Teuta is full of the forthcoming celebration of the Balkan +Federation, which is to take place this day month, although I must say, for +myself, that the ceremony is attaining to such dimensions that I am +beginning to have a sort of vague fear of some kind. It almost seems +uncanny. Rupert is working unceasingly—has been for some +time. For weeks past he seems to have been out day and night on his +aeroplane, going through and round over the country arranging matters, and +seeing for himself that what has been arranged is being done. Uncle +Colin is always about, too, and so is Admiral Rooke. But now Teuta is +beginning to go with Rupert. That girl is simply fearless—just +like Rupert. And they both seem anxious that little Rupert shall be +the same. Indeed, he is the same. A few mornings ago Rupert and +Teuta were about to start just after dawn from the top of the Castle. +Little Rupert was there—he is always awake early and as bright as a +bee. I was holding him in my arms, and when his mother leant over to +kiss him good-bye, he held out his arms to her in a way that said as +plainly as if he had spoken, “Take me with you.”</p> +<p>She looked appealingly at Rupert, who nodded, and said: “All +right. Take him, darling. He will have to learn some day, and +the sooner the better.” The baby, looking eagerly from one to +the other with the same questioning in his eyes as there is sometimes in +the eyes of a kitten or a puppy—but, of course, with an eager soul +behind it—saw that he was going, and almost leaped into his +mother’s arms. I think she had expected him to come, for she +took a little leather dress from Margareta, his nurse, and, flushing with +pride, began to wrap him in it. When Teuta, holding him in her arms, +stepped on the aeroplane, and took her place in the centre behind Rupert, +the young men of the Crown Prince’s Guard raised a cheer, amid which +Rupert pulled the levers, and they glided off into the dawn.</p> +<p>The Crown Prince’s Guard was established by the mountaineers +themselves the day of his birth. Ten of the biggest and most powerful +and cleverest young men of the nation were chosen, and were sworn in with a +very impressive ceremony to guard the young Prince. They were to so +arrange and order themselves and matters generally that two at least of +them should always have him, or the place in which he was, within their +sight. They all vowed that the last of their lives should go before +harm came to him. Of course, Teuta understood, and so did +Rupert. And these young men are the persons most privileged in the +whole Castle. They are dear boys, every one of them, and we are all +fond of them and respect them. They simply idolize the baby.</p> +<p>Ever since that morning little Rupert has, unless it is at a time +appointed for his sleeping, gone in his mother’s arms. I think +in any other place there would be some State remonstrance at the whole +royal family being at once and together in a dangerous position, but in the +Blue Mountains danger and fear are not thought of—indeed, they can +hardly be in their terminology. And I really think the child enjoys +it even more than his parents. He is just like a little bird that has +found the use of his wings. Bless him!</p> +<p>I find that even I have to study Court ritual a little. So many +nationalities are to be represented at the ceremony of the “Balkan +Settlement,” and so many Kings and Princes and notabilities of all +kinds are coming, that we must all take care not to make any +mistakes. The Press alone would drive anyone silly. Rupert and +Teuta come and sit with me sometimes in the evening when we are all too +tired to work, and they rest themselves by talking matters over. +Rupert says that there will be over five hundred reporters, and that the +applications for permission are coming in so fast that there may be a +thousand when the day comes. Last night he stopped in the middle of +speaking of it, and said:</p> +<p>“I have an inspiration! Fancy a thousand +journalists,—each wanting to get ahead of the rest, and all willing +to invoke the Powers of Evil for exclusive information! The only man +to look after this department is Rooke. He knows how to deal with +men, and as we have already a large staff to look after the journalistic +guests, he can be at the head, and appoint his own deputies to act for +him. Somewhere and sometime the keeping the peace will be a matter of +nerve and resolution, and Rooke is the man for the job.”</p> +<p>We were all concerned about one thing, naturally important in the eyes +of a woman: What robes was Teuta to wear? In the old days, when there +were Kings and Queens, they doubtless wore something gorgeous or +impressive; but whatever it was that they wore has gone to dust centuries +ago, and there were no illustrated papers in those primitive days. +Teuta was talking to me eagerly, with her dear beautiful brows all +wrinkled, when Rupert who was reading a bulky document of some kind, looked +up and said:</p> +<p>“Of course, darling, you will wear your Shroud?”</p> +<p>“Capital!” she said, clapping her hands like a joyous +child. “The very thing, and our people will like it.”</p> +<p>I own that for a moment I was dismayed. It was a horrible test of +a woman’s love and devotion. At a time when she was +entertaining Kings and notabilities in her own house—and be sure they +would all be decked in their finery—to have to appear in such a +garment! A plain thing with nothing even pretty, let alone gorgeous, +about it! I expressed my views to Rupert, for I feared that Teuta +might be disappointed, though she might not care to say so; but before he +could say a word Teuta answered:</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you so much, dear! I should love that above +everything, but I did not like to suggest it, lest you should think me +arrogant or presuming; for, indeed, Rupert, I am very proud of it, and of +the way our people look on it.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” said Rupert, in his direct way. “It +is a thing for us all to be proud of; the nation has already adopted it as +a national emblem—our emblem of courage and devotion and patriotism, +which will always, I hope, be treasured beyond price by the men and women +of our Dynasty, the Nation, that is—of the Nation that is to +be.”</p> +<p>Later on in the evening we had a strange endorsement of the national +will. A “People’s Deputation” of mountaineers, +without any official notice or introduction, arrived at the Castle late in +the evening in the manner established by Rupert’s “Proclamation +of Freedom,” wherein all citizens were entitled to send a deputation +to the King, at will and in private, on any subject of State +importance. This deputation was composed of seventeen men, one +selected from each political section, so that the body as a whole +represented the entire nation. They were of all sorts of social rank +and all degrees of fortune, but they were mainly “of the +people.” They spoke hesitatingly—possibly because Teuta, +or even because I, was present—but with a manifest earnestness. +They made but one request—that the Queen should, on the great +occasion of the Balkan Federation, wear as robes of State the Shroud that +they loved to see her in. The spokesman, addressing the Queen, said +in tones of rugged eloquence:</p> +<p>“This is a matter, Your Majesty, that the women naturally have a +say in, so we have, of course, consulted them. They have discussed +the matter by themselves, and then with us, and they are agreed without a +flaw that it will be good for the Nation and for Womankind that you do this +thing. You have shown to them, and to the world at large, what women +should do, what they can do, and they want to make, in memory of your great +act, the Shroud a garment of pride and honour for women who have deserved +well of their country. In the future it can be a garment to be worn +only by privileged women who have earned the right. But they hope, +and we hope with them, that on this occasion of our Nation taking the lead +before the eyes of the world, all our women may wear it on that day as a +means of showing overtly their willingness to do their duty, even to the +death. And so”—here he turned to the +King—“Rupert, we trust that Her Majesty Queen Teuta will +understand that in doing as the women of the Blue Mountains wish, she will +bind afresh to the Queen the loyal devotion which she won from them as +Voivodin. Henceforth and for all time the Shroud shall be a dress of +honour in our Land.”</p> +<p>Teuta looked all ablaze with love and pride and devotion. Stars in +her eyes shone like white fire as she assured them of the granting of their +request. She finished her little speech:</p> +<p>“I feared that if I carried out my own wish, it might look +arrogant, but Rupert has expressed the same wish, and now I feel that I am +free to wear that dress which brought me to you and to +Rupert”—here she beamed on him, and took his +hand—“fortified as I am by your wishes and the command of my +lord the King.”</p> +<p>Rupert took her in his arms and kissed her fondly before them all, +saying:</p> +<p>“Tell your wives, my brothers, and the rest of the Blue Mountain +women, that that is the answer of the husband who loves and honours his +wife. All the world shall see at the ceremony of the Federation of +Balka that we men love and honour the women who are loyal and can die for +duty. And, men of the Blue Mountains, some day before long we shall +organize that great idea, and make it a permanent thing—that the +Order of the Shroud is the highest guerdon that a noble-hearted woman can +wear.”</p> +<p>Teuta disappeared for a few moments, and came back with the Crown Prince +in her arms. Everyone present asked to be allowed to kiss him, which +they did kneeling.</p> +<h3>THE FEDERATION BALKA.</h3> +<p><i>By the Correspondents of</i> “<i>Free America</i>.”</p> +<p>The Editors of <i>Free America</i> have thought it well to put in +consecutive order the reports and descriptions of their Special +Correspondents, of whom there were present no less than eight. Not a +word they wrote is omitted, but the various parts of their reports are +placed in different order, so that, whilst nothing which any of them +recorded is left out, the reader may be able to follow the proceedings from +the various points of view of the writers who had the most favourable +opportunity of moment. In so large an assemblage of +journalists—there were present over a thousand—they could not +all be present in one place; so our men, in consultation amongst +themselves, arranged to scatter, so as to cover the whole proceeding from +the various “coigns of vantage,” using their skill and +experience in selecting these points. One was situated on the summit +of the steel-clad tower in the entrance to the Blue Mouth; another on the +“Press-boat,” which was moored alongside King Rupert’s +armoured yacht, <i>The Lady</i>, whereon were gathered the various Kings +and rulers of the Balkan States, all of whom were in the Federation; +another was in a swift torpedo-boat, with a roving commission to cruise +round the harbour as desired; another took his place on the top of the +great mountain which overlooks Plazac, and so had a bird’s-eye view +of the whole scene of operations; two others were on the forts to right and +left of the Blue Mouth; another was posted at the entrance to the Great +Tunnel which runs from the water level right up through the mountains to +the plateau, where the mines and factories are situate; another had the +privilege of a place on an aeroplane, which went everywhere and saw +everything. This aeroplane was driven by an old Special Correspondent +of <i>Free America</i>, who had been a chum of our Special in the Japanese +and Russian War, and who has taken service on the Blue Mountain <i>Official +Gazette</i>.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Plazac</span>,<br /> +<i>June</i> 30, 1909.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Two days before the time appointed for the ceremony the guests of the +Land of the Blue Mountains began to arrive. The earlier comers were +mostly the journalists who had come from almost over the whole inhabited +world. King Rupert, who does things well, had made a camp for their +exclusive use. There was a separate tent for each—of course, a +small one, as there were over a thousand journalists—but there were +big tents for general use scattered about—refectories, reading and +writing rooms, a library, idle rooms for rest, etc. In the rooms for +reading and writing, which were the work-rooms for general use, were +newspapers, the latest attainable from all over the world, Blue-Books, +guides, directories, and all such aids to work as forethought could +arrange. There was for this special service a body of some hundreds +of capable servants in special dress and bearing identification +numbers—in fact, King Rupert “did us fine,” to use a +slang phrase of pregnant meaning.</p> +<p>There were other camps for special service, all of them well arranged, +and with plenty of facility for transport. Each of the Federating +Monarchs had a camp of his own, in which he had erected a magnificent +pavilion. For the Western King, who had acted as Arbitrator in the +matter of the Federation, a veritable palace had been built by King +Rupert—a sort of Aladdin’s palace it must have been, for only a +few weeks ago the place it occupied was, I was told, only primeval +wilderness. King Rupert and his Queen, Teuta, had a pavilion like the +rest of the Federators of Balka, but infinitely more modest, both in size +and adornments.</p> +<p>Everywhere were guards of the Blue Mountains, armed only with the +“handjar,” which is the national weapon. They wore the +national dress, but so arranged in colour and accoutrement that the general +air of uniformity took the place of a rigid uniform. There must have +been at least seventy or eighty thousand of them.</p> +<p>The first day was one of investigation of details by the visitors. +During the second day the retinues of the great Federators came. Some +of these retinues were vast. For instance, the Soldan (though only +just become a Federator) sent of one kind or another more than a thousand +men. A brave show they made, for they are fine men, and drilled to +perfection. As they swaggered along, singly or in mass, with their +gay jackets and baggy trousers, their helmets surmounted by the golden +crescent, they looked a foe not to be despised. Landreck Martin, the +Nestor of journalists, said to me, as we stood together looking at +them:</p> +<p>“To-day we witness a new departure in Blue Mountain history. +This is the first occasion for a thousand years that so large a Turkish +body has entered the Blue Mountains with a reasonable prospect of ever +getting out again.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>July</i> 1, 1909.</p> +<p>To-day, the day appointed for the ceremony, was auspiciously fine, even +for the Blue Mountains, where at this time of year the weather is nearly +always fine. They are early folk in the Blue Mountains, but to-day +things began to hum before daybreak. There were bugle-calls all over +the place—everything here is arranged by calls of musical +instruments—trumpets, or bugles, or drums (if, indeed, the drum can +be called a musical instrument)—or by lights, if it be after +dark. We journalists were all ready; coffee and bread-and-butter had +been thoughtfully served early in our sleeping-tents, and an elaborate +breakfast was going on all the time in the refectory pavilions. We +had a preliminary look round, and then there was a sort of general pause +for breakfast. We took advantage of it, and attacked the +sumptuous—indeed, memorable—meal which was served for us.</p> +<p>The ceremony was to commence at noon, but at ten o’clock the whole +place was astir—not merely beginning to move, but actually moving; +everybody taking their places for the great ceremony. As noon drew +near, the excitement was intense and prolonged. One by one the +various signatories to the Federation began to assemble. They all +came by sea; such of them as had sea-boards of their own having their +fleets around them. Such as had no fleets of their own were attended +by at least one of the Blue Mountain ironclads. And I am bound to say +that I never in my life saw more dangerous craft than these little warships +of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains. As they entered the Blue Mouth +each ship took her appointed station, those which carried the signatories +being close together in an isolated group in a little bay almost surrounded +by high cliffs in the farthest recesses of the mighty harbour. King +Rupert’s armoured yacht all the time lay close inshore, hard by the +mouth of the Great Tunnel which runs straight into the mountain from a wide +plateau, partly natural rock, partly built up with mighty blocks of +stone. Here it is, I am told, that the inland products are brought +down to the modern town of Plazac. Just as the clocks were chiming +the half-hour before noon this yacht glided out into the expanse of the +“Mouth.” Behind her came twelve great barges, royally +decked, and draped each in the colour of the signatory nation. On +each of these the ruler entered with his guard, and was carried to +Rupert’s yacht, he going on the bridge, whilst his suite remained on +the lower deck. In the meantime whole fleets had been appearing on +the southern horizon; the nations were sending their maritime quota to the +christening of “Balka”! In such wonderful order as can +only be seen with squadrons of fighting ships, the mighty throng swept into +the Blue Mouth, and took up their stations in groups. The only +armament of a Great Power now missing was that of the Western King. +But there was time. Indeed, as the crowd everywhere began to look at +their watches a long line of ships began to spread up northward from the +Italian coast. They came at great speed—nearly twenty +knots. It was a really wonderful sight—fifty of the finest +ships in the world; the very latest expression of naval giants, each +seemingly typical of its class—Dreadnoughts, cruisers, +destroyers. They came in a wedge, with the King’s yacht flying +the Royal Standard the apex. Every ship of the squadron bore a red +ensign long enough to float from the masthead to the water. From the +armoured tower in the waterway one could see the myriad of +faces—white stars on both land and sea—for the great harbour +was now alive with ships and each and all of them alive with men.</p> +<p>Suddenly, without any direct cause, the white masses became +eclipsed—everyone had turned round, and was looking the other +way. I looked across the bay and up the mountain behind—a +mighty mountain, whose slopes run up to the very sky, ridge after ridge +seeming like itself a mountain. Far away on the very top the standard +of the Blue Mountains was run up on a mighty Flagstaff which seemed like a +shaft of light. It was two hundred feet high, and painted white, and +as at the distance the steel stays were invisible, it towered up in lonely +grandeur. At its foot was a dark mass grouped behind a white space, +which I could not make out till I used my field-glasses.</p> +<p>Then I knew it was King Rupert and the Queen in the midst of a group of +mountaineers. They were on the aero station behind the platform of +the aero, which seemed to shine—shine, not glitter—as though it +were overlaid with plates of gold.</p> +<p>Again the faces looked west. The Western Squadron was drawing near +to the entrance of the Blue Mouth. On the bridge of the yacht stood +the Western King in uniform of an Admiral, and by him his Queen in a dress +of royal purple, splendid with gold. Another glance at the +mountain-top showed that it had seemed to become alive. A whole park +of artillery seemed to have suddenly sprung to life, round each its crew +ready for action. Amongst the group at the foot of the Flagstaff we +could distinguish King Rupert; his vast height and bulk stood out from and +above all round him. Close to him was a patch of white, which we +understood to be Queen Teuta, whom the Blue Mountaineers simply adore.</p> +<p>By this time the armoured yacht, bearing all the signatories to +“Balka” (excepting King Rupert), had moved out towards the +entrance, and lay still and silent, waiting the coming of the Royal +Arbitrator, whose whole squadron simultaneously slowed down, and hardly +drifted in the seething water of their backing engines.</p> +<p>When the flag which was in the yacht’s prow was almost opposite +the armoured fort, the Western King held up a roll of vellum handed to him +by one of his officers. We onlookers held our breath, for in an +instant was such a scene as we can never hope to see again.</p> +<p>At the raising of the Western King’s hand, a gun was fired away on +the top of the mountain where rose the mighty Flagstaff with the standard +of the Blue Mountains. Then came the thunder of salute from the guns, +bright flashes and reports, which echoed down the hillsides in never-ending +sequence. At the first gun, by some trick of signalling, the flag of +the Federated “Balka” floated out from the top of the +Flagstaff, which had been mysteriously raised, and flew above that of the +Blue Mountains.</p> +<p>At the same moment the figures of Rupert and Teuta sank; they were +taking their places on the aeroplane. An instant after, like a great +golden bird, it seemed to shoot out into the air, and then, dipping its +head, dropped downward at an obtuse angle. We could see the King and +Queen from time waist upwards—the King in Blue Mountain dress of +green; the Queen, wrapped in her white Shroud, holding her baby on her +breast. When far out from the mountain-top and over the Blue Mouth, +the wings and tail of the great bird-like machine went up, and the aero +dropped like a stone, till it was only some few hundred feet over the +water. Then the wings and tail went down, but with diminishing +speed. Below the expanse of the plane the King and Queen were now +seen seated together on the tiny steering platform, which seemed to have +been lowered; she sat behind her husband, after the manner of matrons of +the Blue Mountains. That coming of that aeroplane was the most +striking episode of all this wonderful day.</p> +<p>After floating for a few seconds, the engines began to work, whilst the +planes moved back to their normal with beautiful simultaneity. There +was a golden aero finding its safety in gliding movement. At the same +time the steering platform was rising, so that once more the occupants were +not far below, but above the plane. They were now only about a +hundred feet above the water, moving from the far end of the Blue Mouth +towards the entrance in the open space between the two lines of the +fighting ships of the various nationalities, all of which had by now their +yards manned—a manoeuvre which had begun at the firing of the first +gun on the mountain-top. As the aero passed along, all the seamen +began to cheer—a cheering which they kept up till the King and Queen +had come so close to the Western King’s vessel that the two Kings and +Queens could greet each other. The wind was now beginning to blow +westward from the mountain-top, and it took the sounds towards the armoured +fort, so that at moments we could distinguish the cheers of the various +nationalities, amongst which, more keen than the others, came the soft +“Ban Zai!” of the Japanese.</p> +<p>King Rupert, holding his steering levers, sat like a man of +marble. Behind him his beautiful wife, clad in her Shroud, and +holding in her arms the young Crown Prince, seemed like a veritable +statue.</p> +<p>The aero, guided by Rupert’s unerring hand, lit softly on the +after-deck of the Western King’s yacht; and King Rupert, stepping on +deck, lifted from her seat Queen Teuta with her baby in her arms. It +was only when the Blue Mountain King stood amongst other men that one could +realize his enormous stature. He stood literally head and shoulders +over every other man present.</p> +<p>Whilst the aeroplane was giving up its burden, the Western King and his +Queen were descending from the bridge. The host and hostess, hand in +hand—after their usual fashion, as it seems—hurried forward to +greet their guests. The meeting was touching in its simplicity. +The two monarchs shook hands, and their consorts, representatives of the +foremost types of national beauty of the North and South, instinctively +drew close and kissed each other. Then the hostess Queen, moving +towards the Western King, kneeled before him with the gracious obeisance of +a Blue Mountain hostess, and kissed his hand.</p> +<p>Her words of greeting were:</p> +<p>“You are welcome, sire, to the Blue Mountains. We are +grateful to you for all you have done for Balka, and to you and Her Majesty +for giving us the honour of your presence.”</p> +<p>The King seemed moved. Accustomed as he was to the ritual of great +occasions, the warmth and sincerity, together with the gracious humility of +this old Eastern custom, touched him, monarch though he was of a great land +and many races in the Far East. Impulsively he broke through Court +ritual, and did a thing which, I have since been told, won for him for ever +a holy place in the warm hearts of the Blue Mountaineers. Sinking on +his knee before the beautiful shroud-clad Queen, he raised her hand and +kissed it. The act was seen by all in and around the Blue Mouth, and +a mighty cheering rose, which seemed to rise and swell as it ran far and +wide up the hillsides, till it faded away on the far-off mountain-top, +where rose majestically the mighty Flagstaff bearing the standard of the +Balkan Federation.</p> +<p>For myself, I can never forget that wonderful scene of a nation’s +enthusiasm, and the core of it is engraven on my memory. That +spotless deck, typical of all that is perfect in naval use; the King and +Queen of the greatest nation of the earth <a name="citation3"></a><a +href="#footnote3" class="citation">[3]</a> received by the newest King and +Queen—a King and Queen who won empire for themselves, so that the +former subject of another King received him as a brother-monarch on a +history-making occasion, when a new world-power was, under his tutelage, +springing into existence. The fair Northern Queen in the arms of the +dark Southern Queen with the starry eyes. The simple splendour of +Northern dress arrayed against that of almost peasant plainness of the +giant King of the South. But all were eclipsed—even the +thousand years of royal lineage of the Western King, Rupert’s natural +dower of stature, and the other Queen’s bearing of royal dignity and +sweetness—by the elemental simplicity of Teuta’s Shroud. +Not one of all that mighty throng but knew something of her wonderful +story; and not one but felt glad and proud that such a noble woman had won +an empire through her own bravery, even in the jaws of the grave.</p> +<p>The armoured yacht, with the remainder of the signatories to the Balkan +Federation, drew close, and the rulers stepped on board to greet the +Western King, the Arbitrator, Rupert leaving his task as personal host and +joining them. He took his part modestly in the rear of the group, and +made a fresh obeisance in his new capacity.</p> +<p>Presently another warship, <i>The Balka</i>, drew close. It +contained the ambassadors of Foreign Powers, and the Chancellors and high +officials of the Balkan nations. It was followed by a fleet of +warships, each one representing a Balkan Power. The great Western +fleet lay at their moorings, but with the exception of manning their yards, +took no immediate part in the proceedings.</p> +<p>On the deck of the new-comer the Balkan monarchs took their places, the +officials of each State grading themselves behind their monarch. The +Ambassadors formed a foremost group by themselves.</p> +<p>Last came the Western King, quite alone (save for the two Queens), +bearing in his hand the vellum scroll, the record of his arbitration. +This he proceeded to read, a polyglot copy of it having been already +supplied to every Monarch, Ambassador, and official present. It was a +long statement, but the occasion was so stupendous—so +intense—that the time flew by quickly. The cheering had ceased +the moment the Arbitrator opened the scroll, and a veritable silence of the +grave abounded.</p> +<p>When the reading was concluded Rupert raised his hand, and on the +instant came a terrific salvo of cannon-shots from not only the ships in +the port, but seemingly all up and over the hillsides away to the very +summit.</p> +<p>When the cheering which followed the salute had somewhat toned down, +those on board talked together, and presentations were made. Then the +barges took the whole company to the armour-clad fort in the entrance-way +to the Blue Mouth. Here, in front, had been arranged for the +occasion, platforms for the starting of aeroplanes. Behind them were +the various thrones of state for the Western King and Queen, and the +various rulers of “Balka”—as the new and completed Balkan +Federation had become—<i>de jure</i> as well as <i>de +facto</i>. Behind were seats for the rest of the company. All +was a blaze of crimson and gold. We of the Press were all expectant, +for some ceremony had manifestly been arranged, but of all details of it we +had been kept in ignorance. So far as I could tell from the faces, +those present were at best but partially informed. They were +certainly ignorant of all details, and even of the entire programme of the +day. There is a certain kind of expectation which is not concerned in +the mere execution of fore-ordered things.</p> +<p>The aero on which the King and Queen had come down from the mountain now +arrived on the platform in the charge of a tall young mountaineer, who +stepped from the steering-platform at once. King Rupert, having +handed his Queen (who still carried her baby) into her seat, took his +place, and pulled a lever. The aero went forward, and seemed to fall +head foremost off the fort. It was but a dip, however, such as a +skilful diver takes from a height into shallow water, for the plane made an +upward curve, and in a few seconds was skimming upwards towards the +Flagstaff. Despite the wind, it arrived there in an incredibly short +time. Immediately after his flight another aero, a big one this time, +glided to the platform. To this immediately stepped a body of ten +tall, fine-looking young men. The driver pulled his levers, and the +plane glided out on the track of the King. The Western King, who was +noticing, said to the Lord High Admiral, who had been himself in command of +the ship of war, and now stood close behind him:</p> +<p>“Who are those men, Admiral?”</p> +<p>“The Guard of the Crown Prince, Your Majesty. They are +appointed by the Nation.”</p> +<p>“Tell me, Admiral, have they any special duties?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Your Majesty,” came the answer: “to die, if need +be, for the young Prince!”</p> +<p>“Quite right! That is fine service. But how if any of +them should die?”</p> +<p>“Your Majesty, if one of them should die, there are ten thousand +eager to take his place.”</p> +<p>“Fine, fine! It is good to have even one man eager to give +his life for duty. But ten thousand! That is what makes a +nation!”</p> +<p>When King Rupert reached the platform by the Flagstaff, the Royal +Standard of the Blue Mountains was hauled up under it. Rupert stood +up and raised his hand. In a second a cannon beside him was fired; +then, quick as thought, others were fired in sequence, as though by one +prolonged lightning-flash. The roar was incessant, but getting less +in detonating sound as the distance and the hills subdued it. But in +the general silence which prevailed round us we could hear the sound as +though passing in a distant circle, till finally the line which had gone +northward came back by the south, stopping at the last gun to +south’ard of the Flagstaff.</p> +<p>“What was that wonderful circle?” asked the King of the Lord +High Admiral.</p> +<p>“That, Your Majesty, is the line of the frontier of the Blue +Mountains. Rupert has ten thousand cannon in line.”</p> +<p>“And who fires them? I thought all the army must be +here.”</p> +<p>“The women, Your Majesty. They are on frontier duty to-day, +so that the men can come here.”</p> +<p>Just at that moment one of the Crown Prince’s Guards brought to +the side of the King’s aero something like a rubber ball on the end +of a string. The Queen held it out to the baby in her arms, who +grabbed at it. The guard drew back. Pressing that ball must +have given some signal, for on the instant a cannon, elevated to +perpendicular, was fired. A shell went straight up an enormous +distance. The shell burst, and sent out both a light so bright that +it could be seen in the daylight, and a red smoke, which might have been +seen from the heights of the Calabrian Mountains over in Italy.</p> +<p>As the shell burst, the King’s aero seemed once more to spring +from the platform out into mid-air, dipped as before, and glided out over +the Blue Mouth with a rapidity which, to look at, took one’s breath +away.</p> +<p>As it came, followed by the aero of the Crown Prince’s Guard and a +group of other aeros, the whole mountain-sides seemed to become +alive. From everywhere, right away up to the farthest visible +mountain-tops, darted aeroplanes, till a host of them were rushing with +dreadful speed in the wake of the King. The King turned to Queen +Teuta, and evidently said something, for she beckoned to the Captain of the +Crown Prince’s Guard, who was steering the plane. He swerved +away to the right, and instead of following above the open track between +the lines of warships, went high over the outer line. One of those on +board began to drop something, which, fluttering down, landed on every +occasion on the bridge of the ship high over which they then were.</p> +<p>The Western King said again to the Gospodar Rooke (the Lord High +Admiral):</p> +<p>“It must need some skill to drop a letter with such +accuracy.”</p> +<p>With imperturbable face the Admiral replied:</p> +<p>“It is easier to drop bombs, Your Majesty.”</p> +<p>The flight of aeroplanes was a memorable sight. It helped to make +history. Henceforth no nation with an eye for either defence or +attack can hope for success without the mastery of the air.</p> +<p>In the meantime—and after that time, too—God help the nation +that attacks “Balka” or any part of it, so long as Rupert and +Teuta live in the hearts of that people, and bind them into an irresistible +unity.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> Vladika, a high functionary in the Land of +the Blue Mountains. He is a sort of official descendant of the old +Prince-Bishops who used at one time to govern the State. In process +of time the system has changed, but the function—shorn of its +personal dominance—remains. The nation is at present governed +by the Council. The Church (which is, of course, the Eastern Church) +is represented by the Archbishop, who controls the whole spiritual +functions and organization. The connecting-link between +them—they being quite independent organizations—is the Vladika, +who is <i>ex officio</i> a member of the National Council. By custom +he does not vote, but is looked on as an independent adviser who is in the +confidence of both sides of national control.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> <span class="smcap">Editorial +Note</span>—We shall, in our issue of Saturday week, give a full +record of the romantic story of Queen Teuta and her Shroud, written by Mr. +Mordred Booth, and illustrated by our special artist, Mr. Neillison Browne, +who is Mr. Booth’s artistic collaborateur in the account of King +Rupert’s Coronation.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> Greatest <i>Kingdom</i>—<i>Editor Free +America</i>.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY OF THE SHROUD***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3095-h.htm or 3095-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/9/3095 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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