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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2053e23 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53281 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53281) diff --git a/old/53281-0.txt b/old/53281-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f79894b..0000000 --- a/old/53281-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13149 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Child of the Moat, by Ian B. Stoughton Holborn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Child of the Moat - A Story for Girls. 1557 A.D. - -Author: Ian B. Stoughton Holborn - -Release Date: October 15, 2016 [EBook #53281] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILD OF THE MOAT *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - THE CHILD OF THE MOAT - 1557 A.D. - A STORY FOR GIRLS - - - - - BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - CHILDREN OF FANCY (Poems) $2.00 - JACOPO ROBUSTI, CALLED TINTORETTO (Out of print) - ARCHITECTURES OF EUROPEAN RELIGIONS $2.00 - THE NEED FOR ART IN LIFE .75 - - G. ARNOLD SHAW - GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL, NEW YORK - - - - - THE CHILD OF THE MOAT - - A STORY FOR GIRLS. 1557 A.D. - - BY - IAN B. STOUGHTON HOLBORN - - 1916 - G. ARNOLD SHAW - NEW YORK - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY G. ARNOLD SHAW - COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN AND COLONIES - - - - - DEDICATED - TO - AVIS DOLPHIN - - - - -PREFACE - - -On the analogy of the famous apple,--“there ain’t going to be no” -preface, “not nohow.” Children do not read prefaces, so anything of a -prefatory nature that might interest them is put at the beginning of -chapter one. - -As for the grown-ups the story is not written for grown-ups, and if -they want to know why it begins with such a gruesome first chapter, -let them ask the children. Children like the horrors first and the end -all bright. Many grown-ups like the tragedy at the end. But perhaps -the children are right and the grown-ups are standing on their heads. -Besides they can skip the first chapter; it is only a prologue. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I HATE 1 - - II SECRETS 9 - - III HATE AND LOVE 29 - - IV THE PRISONER 55 - - V THE THIEF 79 - - VI BITTERNESS 94 - - VII DEATH 104 - - VIII REMORSE 111 - - IX THE JUDGMENT 115 - - X THE PACKMAN’S VISIT 126 - - XI SWORDS AND QUESTIONINGS 140 - - XII “MOLL O’ THE GRAVES” 156 - - XIII COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS 166 - - XIV GOOD-BYE 182 - - XV THE TERROR OF THE MIST 189 - - XVI A DESPERATE TASK 200 - - XVII CARLISLE 217 - - XVIII A DIPLOMATIC VICTORY 226 - - XIX THE LOSS 247 - - XX PERSECUTION 253 - - XXI TORTURE 259 - - XXII TO THE RESCUE 282 - - XXIII DUEL TO THE DEATH 296 - - XXIV A RIDE IN VAIN 317 - - XXV AMAZING DISCOVERIES 329 - - XXVI THE BATTLE OF LIDDISDALE 344 - - XXVII THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 354 - - XXVIII THE LAST ADVENTURE 378 - - XXIX A TALE OF A TUB 388 - - XXX THE GREAT IRON CHEST 401 - - - - -[Illustration: - - A, STAIRCASE TO SOLAR AND ALINE’S ROOM; B, STAIRCASE TO SOLAR AND - NORTH ROOMS; C, BUTTERY (the place where the drink was kept, Cf. - French _boire_); D, PANTRY (the place where the food was kept, - Cf. French _pain_); E, CHAPEL. - - NOTE.--The approach is from the north, therefore the usual position - of the compass is inverted. The scale is a scale of feet. - - PLAN OF THE HALL - HOLWICK, YORKSHIRE] - - - - -THE CHILD OF THE MOAT - -A STORY FOR GIRLS - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HATE - - Sweet children of demurest air, - Pale blossoms woven through your hair, - On shifting rainbows gathering, - Endowed with love’s engaging mien - And crowding lips that toward me lean, - Through little hands, outstretched between - In sympathetic wondering. - - Children, ye cannot understand, - Floating in that enchanted land, - The pathos of our helplessness; - And yet your winsome faces bear, - Though ye yourselves are unaware, - The antidote of our despair,-- - Exorcists of our hopelessness. - - _Children of Fancy: The Guelder Roses._ - - -The great ship _Lusitania_ was nearing Queenstown on May 7th, 1915, -when a terrible explosion occurred, and in fifteen minutes she had -sunk. Among some 1700 adults and 500 children were a lecturer on art -and archaeology and a little girl, with whom he had made friends on -board. About 700 people escaped and these two were both eventually -picked up out of the water. When they reached the land there was -no one left to look after her; so he first took her across to her -relatives in England and then she went to live in the home of the -archaeologist, in Scotland, who had three little boys of his own but no -little girls. - -Archaeologists do not know anything about girls’ story books, and he -may have been misinformed when he was told that girls’ books were too -tame and that most girls preferred to read the more exciting books of -their brothers. However, this made him decide himself to write a story -for the little girl, which should be full of adventures. It was frankly -a melodramatic story, a story of love and hate, and he chose the period -of the Reformation, so as to have two parties bitterly opposed to each -other; but, except for dramatic purposes, religious problems were as -far as possible left out. - -One difficulty was as to whether the characters should speak in old -English; but, as that might have made it hard to read, only a few old -words and phrases were introduced here and there, just, as it were, to -give a flavour. - -Afterwards the author was asked to publish the story “for precocious -girls of thirteen,” as it was delightfully phrased; that is to say, -for girls of thirteen and upwards and perhaps for grown up people, but -hardly for superior young ladies of about seventeen; and this is the -story: - - * * * * * - -Father Laurence, the parish priest of Middleton, was returning home -from Holwick on a dark night in the late spring. He had come from the -bedside of a dying woman and the scene was unpleasantly impressed on -his mind. Sarah Moulton had certainly not been a blessing to her -neighbours, but, in spite of that, he felt sorry for the delicate child -left behind, as he did not see what was to become of it. He felt very -troubled, too, about the poor creature, herself, for was not his task -the cure of souls? Not that Sarah Moulton was much of a mother; but -perhaps any kind of a mother was better than nothing, and the poor -child had loved her; yet, after she had received the viaticum, she had -given vent to the most frightful curses on her neighbours. “If I cannot -get the better of Janet Arnside in life,” she had screamed, “I will get -the better of her when I am dead. I will haunt her and drive her down -the path to Hell, I will never let her rest, I will....” and with these -words on her lips the soul had fled from her body. He sighed a little -wearily. He was famished and worn for he had previously been a long -tramp nearly to Lunedale. “I do my best,” he said, “but I am afraid the -task is too difficult for me. I wish there were some one better than -myself in Upper Teesdale: poor Sarah!” - -Father Laurence’ way led through the churchyard, but clear as his -conscience was, he had never been able to free himself from a certain -fear in passing through it on a dark night. Could it be true that the -spirits of the departed could plague the living? Of course it could -not; and yet, somehow, he was not able to rid himself of the unwelcome -thought. As he passed through the village and drew nearer to the -church, he half resolved to go round. No, that was cowardly and absurd. -He would not allow idle superstitions to get the better of him. - -But when he approached the gate he hesitated and his heart began to -beat violently. What was that unearthly screech in the darkness of the -night? He crossed himself devoutly, however, and said a Paternoster -and stepped through the wicket gate. “‘Libera nos a malo,’ yes, deliver -us from evil, indeed,” he said, as, dimly on the sky line he saw a -shadowy figure with long gaunt arms stretched to the sky. - -He crossed himself again, when a ghoulish laugh rang through the still -night air. He turned a little to the left, but the figure came swiftly -toward him. He wanted to run, but duty bade him refrain. His heart beat -yet more violently as the figure approached and at length he stood -still, unable to move. - -The figure came closer, and closer still, stretching out its arms, and -finally a harsh voice said: “Is that you, Father Laurence? Ha! Ha! I -told you Sarah Moulton would die. You need not tell me about it.” - -It was old Mary, “Moll o’ the graves,” as the folk used to call -her. Father Laurence felt a little reassured, but she was not one -whom anybody would wish to meet on a dark night, least of all in a -churchyard. - -“What is the matter, Mary? Why are you not in your bed,” he asked; -“disturbing honest folk at this time of night?” - -“You let me alone,” she replied, “with your saints and your prayers and -your Holy Mother. I go where I please and do as I please. I knew Sarah -would die. I like folk to die,” she said with horrible glee; “and she -cursed Janet Arnside, did she? A curse on them all, every one of them. -I wish she would die too; ay, and that slip of a girl that Sarah has -left behind. What are you shaking for?” she added. “Do you think I do -not know what is going on? You have nothing to tell me; I assure you -the powers are on our side. There is nothing like the night and the -dark.” - -“You are a wicked woman, Mary,” said the old priest sorrowfully, “and -God will punish you one day. See you--I am going home; you go home too.” - -“You may go home if you like,” said the old hag as he moved on, “and my -curses go with you; but I stay here;” and she stood and looked after -him as he faded into the darkness. - -“Silly old dotard,” she growled; “I saw him at her bedside or ever I -came along here. The blessed sacrament indeed; and much may it profit -her! I wish now I had waited and seen what he did after she had gone; -comforted that child, I expect! Fancy loving a mother like that! Ha! -Ha! No, I am glad I came here and scared the pious old fool.” - -She moved among the tombs and sat down near an open grave that had just -been dug. “Pah! I am sick of their nonsense. Why cannot they leave -folk in peace? I want to go my own way; why should I not go my own -way? All my life they have been at me, ever since I was a little girl. -My foolish old mother began it. Why should I not please myself? Well, -she’s dead anyway! I like people to die. And now Mother Church is at -me. Why should I think of other people, why should I always be holding -myself in control? No, I let myself go, I please myself.” - -“I have no patience with any of them,” she muttered, “and now there is -a new one to plague me,” and “Moll o’ the graves” saw in her mind’s -eye a slim, graceful girl of twelve, endowed with an unparalleled -refinement of beauty. “What do they mean by bringing that child -to Holwick Hall,” she continued, “as if things were not bad enough -already,--a-running round and waiting on folk, a-tending the sick and -all the rest of it? Let them die! I like them to die. Self-sacrifice -and self-control forsooth! They say she is clever and well-schooled -and mistress of herself and withal sympathetic. What’s the good of -unselfishness and self-control? No, liberty, liberty--that’s the thing -for you, Moll. Self-control, indeed!” and again the ghastly laugh rang -through the night air. “Yes, liberty, Moll,--liberty. Are you not -worth more than all their church-ridden priests and docile unselfish -children? What avails unselfishness and affection? Father Laurence and -Aline Gillespie, there’s a pair of them! No, hate is the thing, hate -is better than love. Scandal and spite and jealousy--that’s true joy, -that’s the true woman, Moll,” and she rubbed her hands with unholy -mirth. - -As she talked to herself the moon rose and gradually the churchyard -became light. “Love!” she went on, “love! Yes, Oswald, that’s where -they laid you,” she said, as she looked at the next place to the open -grave. “Ah, but hate got the better of your love, for all that, fine -big man that you were, a head taller than the rest of the parish, and -all the girls after you, too!” - -She looked at the side of the open grave, where the end of a bone -protruded. She pulled it out. It was a femur of unusual size. “Yes, -Oswald,” she repeated, “and that’s yours. You did not think I would be -holding your thigh-bone these forty years after! - -“Ha! you loved me, did you? I was a pretty lass then. Yes, you loved -me, I know you loved me. You would have died for me, and I loved you, -too. But little Sarah loved you and you loved her. I know you loved me -most, but I would not have that. ‘I should have controlled myself,’ you -say; ha! I was jealous and I hated you. Self-control and love;--no, no, -liberty and hate, liberty and hate; and when you were ill I came to see -you and I saw the love-light in your eyes. They thought you would get -well. Of course you would have got well; but there you were, great big, -strong man, weak as a child,--a child! I hate children. Was that it? -You tried to push my hands off, as I pressed the pillow on your face, -you tried; oh, you tried hard, and I laugh to think of it even now. How -I longed to bury my fingers in your throat, but I knew they would leave -marks. - -“Yes, liberty and hate, ha! ha! I would do it again. See, Oswald!” and -she took the brittle bone and viciously snapped it across her knee. -“Self-control! love! unselfishness! Never! And that child up at the -Hall, Oswald, I must send her after you. I have just frightened Sarah -down to you. You can have her now, and that child shall come next. Hate -is stronger than love. Liberty, self-will and hate must win in the end.” - -The abandoned old wretch stood up and took her stick--she could not -stand quite straight--and hobbled with uncanny swiftness across to a -newly made child’s grave and began to scrape with her hands; but at -that moment she heard the night-watchman coming along the lane; so she -rose and walked back to Newbiggin, where she lived. - -She opened the door and found the tinder box and struck a light, and -then went to a corner where there was an old chest. She unlocked it -and peered in and lifted out a bag and shook it. It was full of gold. -“Yes,” she said, “money is a good thing, too. How little they know -what ‘old Moll o’ the graves’ has got,--old, indeed, Moll is not old! -Ah, could not that money tell some strange tales? Love and learning -and self-control! Leave all that to the priests. Hate will do for -me,--money and liberty are my gods. - -“Aha, Aline Gillespie, you little fool, what do you mean by crossing my -path? I was a pretty little girl once and you are not going to win the -love of Upper Teesdale folk for nothing, I’ll warrant you.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -SECRETS - - -“I am so tired of this rain,” said Audry, as she rose and crossed the -solar[1] and went to the tall bay window with its many mullions and sat -down on the window seat. “It is three days since we have been able to -get out and no one has seen the top of Mickle Fell for a week. The gale -is enough to deafen one,” she added, “while the moat is like a stormy -sea,--and just look at the mad dancers in the rain-rings on the water!” - - [1] The predecessor of the withdrawing room or drawing room. - -It was a terrible day, the river was in spate[2] indeed, carrying down -great trees and broken fences and even, now and then, some unfortunate -beast that had been swept away in the violence of the storm. - - [2] In torrent. - -“The High Force must be a wonderful sight though,” she continued, “the -two falls must be practically one in all this deluge.” - -“I do not altogether mind the rain,” said her little friend; “there is -something wonderful about it and I always rather like the sound of the -wind; it has a nice eerie suggestion, and makes me think of delightful -stories of fairies and goblins and strange adventures.” - -“Well, that may be all right for you, Aline, because you can tell -magnificent stories yourself; but I cannot, and it only makes me feel -creepy and the rain annoys me because I cannot go out. I wish that we -had adventures ourselves, but of course nothing exciting ever happens -to us.” - -“They probably would not really be nice if they did happen. These -things are better to read about than to experience.” - -“I don’t know,” said Audry; “anyway, the only exciting thing that ever -happened to me was when you came to stay here. I really was excited -when mother told me that a distant cousin of my own age was coming from -Scotland to live with us; and I made all sorts of pictures of you in my -mind. I thought that you would have a freckled face and be very big and -strong and fond of climbing trees and jumping and good shouting noisy -games and that kind of thing.” - -“You must be very disappointed then.” - -“No, not exactly; I never thought that you would be so pretty:--was -your mother pretty, Aline?” - -“I do not remember my mother,” and a momentary cloud seemed to pass -over the child’s beautiful face, “but her portrait that Master Lindsay -painted is very beautiful, and father always said that it did not do -her justice. It is very young, not much older than I am; she was still -very young when she died.” - -“How old was she?” - -“I do not know exactly,” Aline answered, moving over to the window-seat -and sitting down by Audry, “but I remember there was once some talk -about it. Her name was Margaret and she was named after her grandmother -or her great grandmother, who was lady in waiting to Queen Margaret, -and who not only had the same name as the Queen but was born on the -same day and married on the same day.” - -“What Queen Margaret,” asked Audry, “and how has it anything to do with -your mother?” - -“Well, that is just what I forget,” said Aline with a smile like April -sunshine;--“I used to think it was your queen, Margaret of Anjou, -who married Henry IV; but she seems to be rather far back, so I have -thought it might be Margaret Tudor, who married our James IV. - -“I expected their age would settle it,” she continued, stretching out -her arms and putting her hands on Audry’s knees. “I looked it up; -but they were almost the same, your queen was fourteen years and one -month when she married and ours was thirteen years and nine months. -But I know that mother was exactly six months older to a day when she -married, and I know that she died before the year was out.” - -“Then she was not nearly sixteen anyway,” said Audry; “how sad to die -before one was sixteen!” - -“Yes, Audry, it is terrible, but there is worse than that,--think of -poor Lady Jane Grey who was barely sixteen when she and her husband -were executed. Father used to tell me that I was something like the -Lady Jane.” - -“Had he seen her?” - -“No, I do not think so; he was in France with our Queen Mary at the -time of the Lady Jane’s death and your Queen Mary’s accession: for a -short time he was a captain in the Scots Guard in France.” - -“Were you with him and have you seen the Queen? She is about your age, -is she not?” - -“No, I have not seen her, but she is a little older than I am. She is -fourteen and is extraordinarily beautiful. They say her wedding to the -Dauphin is to take place very soon. If father had been alive I might -have seen it.” - -“Was your father good looking?” asked Audry. - -“Yes, he was said to be the handsomest man in the Lothians.” - -“That explains it, then,” she went on, looking somewhat enviously at -her companion; “but I wish you cared more for games and horses and -running and a good romp and were not so fond of old books. Fancy a girl -of your age being able to read the Latin as well as a priest. Father -says that you know far more Latin than he does and that you can even -read the Greek.” - -“But I _can_ run,” Aline objected, “and I can swim, too.” - -“Yes, you can run, though you do not look like it, you wee slender -thing, but you do not love it as I do;” and Audry stood up to display -her sturdy little form. “Now if we were to wrestle,” she said, “where -would you be?” - -Aline only laughed and said: “Well, there is one good thing in reading -books, it gives one something to do in wet weather. Let us go down to -the library and see if I cannot find something nice to read to you.” - -“Come along, then, and read to me from that funny old book by Master -Malory, with the pictures.” - -“You mean the ‘Morte d’Arthur,’ I suppose, with the stories of King -Arthur and the Round Table. That certainly is exciting and I am so fond -of it. I often wish that there were knights going about now to fight -for us in tourney and to rescue us from tyrants. It would be nice to -have anybody care for one so much.” - -“You silly little one, they would not trouble their heads about you, -you are only twelve years old.” - -“Perhaps not,” answered Aline with a half sigh, as she thought of her -present condition. - -“I do not believe there is anybody in the world that cares for me,” she -said to herself, “except perhaps Audry, and I have only known her such -a little time that she cannot care much. I don’t suppose there are many -little girls who can be as lonely as I am. I have not even an aunt or -uncle. Yes, I do want some one to love me, it is all so very hard; I -wish I had a sister or a brother.” - -In a way, doubtless, Audry’s mother did not mean to be altogether -cruel; but she had no love for her small visitor and thought that it -was unnecessary for Master Mowbray to bring her to Holwick Hall. So she -always found plenty of heavy work for the child to do and often made -excuses when Audry had some dainty or extra pleasure as to why Aline -should not have her share. Aline thought of her father, Captain Angus -Gillespie of Logan, and remembered his infinite care for her when she -had been the apple of his eye. It had been a sad little life;--first -she had been motherless from infancy and then had followed the long -financial difficulties that she did not understand; but one thing after -another had gone; and just before her father died they had had to leave -Logan Tower and go and live in Edinburgh; and the little estate was -sold. - -Audry in her rough, kindly way, flung her arms round the slim form and -kissed her. “Do not think melancholy things; come along to the library -and see what we can find.” So they left the solar and went down -through the hall and out into the upper court. They raced across the -court, because of the rain, and up the little flight of nine steps, -three at a time, till they were on the narrow terrace that ran along -the front of the library. - -Aline reached the door first, and, as she swung back the heavy oak with -its finely carved panels, exclaimed: “There, I told you I could run.” - -They shut the door and walked down the broad central space. The library -had been built in the fifteenth century by Master James Mowbray, -Audry’s great-great-grandfather, and was supposed to be the finest in -the North of England. It was divided on each side into little alcoves, -each lit by its own window and most of the books were chained to their -places, being attached to a long rod that ran along the top of each -shelf. At the end of each alcove was a lock with beautifully wrought -iron tracery work that held the rod so that it could not be pulled out. -The library was very dusty and was practically never used, as the -present lord of Holwick was not a scholar; so for the last four years -since he had succeeded to the estate it had been neglected and Aline -was almost the only person who ever entered it. - -The children walked down the room admiring the delicate iron work of -the locks, for which Aline had a great fancy and she had paused at one, -which was her particular favourite, and was fingering every part of it -affectionately, when she noticed that a small sculptured figure was -loose and could be made to slide upwards. This excited her curiosity -and she pushed it to and fro to see if it was for any special purpose, -till suddenly she discovered that, when the figure was pushed as high -as it would go, the whole lock could be pulled forward like a little -door on a hinge, revealing a small cavity behind. Both children started -and peered eagerly into the space disclosed, where they found a very -thin little leather book which was dropping to pieces with old age. -They took it out and examined it and found that the cover had separated -so as to lay open what had been a secret pocket in the cover, which -contained a piece of stout parchment the same size as the pages of the -book. - -The book was written in black letter and was in Latin. “Now you see the -use of knowing Latin,” said Aline triumphantly, with a twinkle in her -dark blue eyes. - -“That depends whether it is interesting,” Audry replied. - -“It seems to be an account of the building of Holwick Hall; but what is -the use of this curious piece of parchment with all these holes cut in -it?” - -“Perhaps you can find out if you read the book,” suggested Audry. “It -certainly must be of some importance or they would not have taken all -that trouble to hide the book and also the parchment in the book. Let -us sit down and see what you can make of it.” - -So they sat down and Aline was soon deeply interested in the account -of the building, how the great dining hall was erected first, then the -buttery, pantry and kitchen and afterwards the beautiful solar. Audry -found her interest flag; although, when it came to the building of her -room and the cost of the different items, she brightened up. “Still,” -she said, “I do not see why all this should be kept so secret; any one -might know all that we have read.” - -There was one thing that seemed to promise interest, but apparently -it led to nothing. At the beginning of the book was a dedication which -could be translated thus: “To my heirs trusting that this may serve -them as it has served me.” But in what way it was to serve them did not -appear, and the evening was closing in and it was getting dark, but the -children were as far as ever from discovering the meaning of the phrase -or of the parchment with the holes. - -“Let us take it to our room,” Aline said at last; “it is not chained -like the others. We can hide it in the armoire and read with the little -lamp when the others have gone to sleep and no one is likely to come -in.” - -So they put the piece of parchment to mark the place, ran to their room -and hid the book and went to join the rest of the family. - -It was nearly time for rere-supper[3] and Master Richard Mowbray had -just come in. He was dripping wet and the water ran down in long -streams across the floor. “Gramercy,” he exclaimed, “it is not a fit -day for a dog let alone a horse or a man. Come and pull off my boots, -wench,” he went on, catching sight of Aline. - - [3] A meal taken about 8 o’clock. - -He sat down and Aline with her little white hands manfully struggled -with the great boots. “You are not much good at it,” he said roughly, -when at last she succeeded in tugging off the first one. “Ah, well, -never mind,” he added, when he saw her wince at his words, and stooped -and kissed her and called to one of the men to come and take off the -other boot. “You cannot always live on a silk cushion, lassie,” he went -on, not unkindly, “you must work like the rest of us.” - -“It is a strange thing where that man can have got,” he continued; “in -all this rain it is impossible that he can have gone far.” - -“Let us hope he is drowned,” Mistress Mowbray remarked; “that would -save us further trouble, but it is a pity that a man meant for the fire -should finish in the water.” - -“Some of the folk going to Middleton say that they saw a stranger -early this morning, playing with a child, but he turned off toward the -hills,” one of the serving men observed. - -“That’s he, but it’s hard enough to find a man in a bog-hole, -particularly on a day like this, yet Silas Morgan and William -Nettleship have both taken over a score of men and there must easily be -two score of others on the hills; you would think that they would find -him. He cannot know the hills as we do,” said Master Mowbray. - -There was silence for a time and then he spoke again,--“Of course those -people might be mistaken; but he could not get over Middleton Bridge -after the watch was set, and I do not see how any one could get over -the river to-day, it is simply a boiling torrent. Well, they are on the -look out on the Appleby side and he must come down somewhere.” - -“What is he wanted for?” Audry ventured to ask. - -“Wanted for?” almost shrieked Mistress Mowbray, “a heretic blaspheming -Mother Church, whom the good priest said was a servant of the devil.” - -“But what is a heretic and how does he blaspheme Mother Church?” Audry -persisted. - -“I do not know and I do not want to know,” said Mistress Mowbray. - -“Then if you do not know, how can you tell that it is wrong? You must -know what he says, Mother, before you can judge him.” - -“I was brought up a good daughter of the church, and I know when I am -right, and look here, you young hussie, what do you mean by talking to -your mother like that? It’s that good for nothing baggage, that your -father has brought from Scotland, that has been putting these notions -into your head, with her book learning and nonsense. I assure you that -I won’t have any more of it, you little skelpie,[4] you are not too old -for a good beating yet, and I tell you what;--I will not have the two -of you wasting your time in that library, I shall lock it up, and you -are not to go in there without permission, and that will not be yet -awhile, I can promise you.” - - [4] A girl young enough to be whipped (skelped). - -After this outburst the meal was eaten in silence and every one felt -very uncomfortable. - -When supper was over the sky seemed to show signs of breaking and -Master Mowbray ventured to express a hope that the next day would be -fine, and that they would be able to find the heretic on the hills. -“That man has done more mischief than any of the others,” he muttered; -but when pressed to explain himself he changed the subject and said he -must go and see if the water had done any damage in the lower court. - -The children were not sorry to retire to their room when bedtime came. -They had undressed and Audry was helping Aline to brush her great -masses of long hair. What a picture she looked in her little white -night-robe, with her large mysterious dark blue eyes that no one ever -saw without being stirred, and her wonderful charm of figure! Her -colouring was as remarkable as her form. The hair was of a deep dark -red, somewhat of the colour beloved by Titian, but with more gloss -and glow although a little lower in tone; that colour which one meets -perhaps once in a lifetime, a full rich undoubted red, but without a -suspicion of the garishness and harshness that belongs to most red -hair. The eyes were of the dark ultramarine blue only found among the -Keltic peoples and even then but rarely, like the darkest blue of the -Mediterranean Sea, when the sapphire hue is touched with a hint of -purple. - -“What is a heretic?” Audry asked; “I am sure you know.” - -“I do not know that I do, but I remember father saying something to me -about it before he died. He said that they were people who were not -satisfied with the way that things were going in the church and that -in particular they denied that it was only through the priests of the -church that God spoke to his people. They say that the priests are no -better than any one else and indeed are sometimes even worse.” - -“I do not know that they claim to be better than other people,” -objected Audry. - -“Well, dear, I am not defending the heretics. I only say what they -think. They do feel, however, that if the priests really were the -special channels of God that that fact itself would make them better. -So, many of them say that God can and does speak directly to all of -us himself, and they all think that it is in the Bible that we can -best learn what he desires, and that the Bible should therefore be -translated into the language of the people. - -“‘This has been the cause of great troubles in the world for these -many years,’ father said, ‘but, little maid, do not trouble your head -about it now; when you are older we can talk about it.’” - -“Are the heretics such very wicked people then, do you think, Aline?” - -Aline put her little white hand to her chin and looked down. “I do not -know what to think about it,” she said. “I suppose that they are, but -they do not seem to be treated fairly.” - -“I hate unfairness,” said Audry in her impulsive way. - -“I do not see why they should not be allowed to speak for themselves, -and I do not see how people can condemn them when they do not know -what their reasons are for thinking what they do. Of course I am very -young and do not know anything about it; but it sounds as though the -priests were afraid that the truth can not take care of itself; but -surely it cannot be the truth if it is afraid to hear the other side. I -remember a motto on the chimney piece at home,--‘Magna veritas est et -prevalebit,’ and it seems to me that it must be so. I wish that father -were alive to talk to me. He was so clever and he understood things.” - -“But you have not said what your motto means,” Audry interposed. - -Aline laughed through the tears that were beginning to gather,--“Oh, -that means, The truth is great and will prevail. If it is the truth it -must win; and it can do it no harm to have objections raised against -it, as it will only make their error more clear.” - -“What about the book, Aline?” said Audry, changing the subject; “no one -is likely to come up here now, they never do; so I think we could have -another look at it.” - -Aline picked up the book and opened it; she paused for a moment and -then gave a little cry,--“I have found out what the parchment is for; -come and look here.” - -Audry came and looked. “I do not see anything,” she said. - -“Look at the parchment; do you not see one or two letters showing -through nearly all the little holes?” - -“Yes.” - -“What are they?” - -“b. u. t. o. n. e. m. u. s. t. s. e. e. t. h. a. t. a. l. i. g. h. t. -i. s. n. e. v. e. r. c. a. r. r. i. e. d. i. n. f. r. o. n. t. o. f. t. -h. e. s. l. i. t. s. i. n. t. h. e.,” read Audry, a letter at a time. - -“And what does that spell?” said Aline. - -“Oh, I see,-- It spells, ‘but one must see that a light is never -carried in front of the slits in the.’ How clever of you to find it -out!” - -“Well, it was more or less accident; the parchment is exactly the size -of the paper and as I shut the book I naturally made it all even. So, -when I opened it in this room, it was lying even on the page and I -could not help seeing the letters and what they spelt.” - -“I should never have noticed it, Aline; why I did not even notice at -once that the letters spelt anything after you had shown me.” - -“Let us go back to the beginning and then,” said Aline, “we shall -discover what it is all about.” - -So she turned to the beginning of the book and placed the parchment -over the page and found that it began like this;--“Having regard to -the changes and misfortunes of this life and the dangers that we may -incur, I have provided for myself and my heirs a place of refuge and -a way of escape in the evil day. This book containeth a full account -of the building of Holwick Hall; so that it will be easily possible to -follow that which I now set down. Below the Library on the west side of -the house just above the level of the moat, there is a secret chamber, -which communicateth with a passage below the moat that hath an exit in -the roof of the small cave in the gully that lieth some two hundred -paces westward of the Hall of Holwick. The way of entrance thereto is -threefold. There is an entrance from the library itself. There is also -an entrance from the small Chamber that occupieth the southwest corner -of the building on the topmost floor.” - -“Why, that is our bedroom, the room that we are in now!” Audry -exclaimed. “Do let us try and find it.” - -“Wait a moment; the book will probably tell us all about it,” and Aline -resumed her reading. - -“‘There is a third method of approach from the store-chamber or closet -on the ground floor in the southeast corner of the lower quadrangle.’” - -“That is the treasury, where the silver and the other plate is kept,” -said Audry; “go on.” - -“‘In the corner of the library that goeth round behind the newel stair -there is a great oaken coffer that is fastened to the floor, in the -which are the charters and the license to crenellate[5] and sundry -other parchments.’” - - [5] To make battlements or crenellations. A house could not be - fortified without a royal license. - -“Oh, I have often wondered what was in that kist,” said Audry; “how -really exciting things have become at last, but I want to find out the -way to get down from our room; do go on.” - -[Illustration: THE OLD SWORD-KIST.] - -“You must not keep interrupting then,” said Aline and continued her -reading. “‘Now the bottom of this kist can be lifted for half its -breadth, if the nail head with the largest rosette below the central -hinge be drawn forth. After so doing, the outer edge of the plank next -the wall in the bottom of the chest can be pushed down slightly, which -will cause the inner edge to rise a little. This can then be taken by -the hand and lifted. In exactly the same manner the plank of the floor -immediately underneath can be raised.’ - -“I hope you understand it all,” Aline remarked. - -“I am not quite sure that I do,” said Audry. “Yes, I think it is quite -clear; it’s very like the way the lid works on the old sword-kist.” - -“But we cannot get into the library and, even if we could,” said Audry, -“the kist might be locked.” - -“Never mind that now; I expect that our room will come next,” said -Aline. “Yes, listen to this:--‘In the topmost chamber a different -device is adopted for greater safety by means of variety. If the -ambry[6] nigh unto the door be opened it will be found that the shelf -will pull forward an inch and a finger can be inserted behind it on the -left hand side, and a small lever can be pushed backward. This enables -the third plank near the newel-stair[7] wall to be lifted by pressing -down the western end thereof, and a bolt may be found which, being -withdrawn, one of the panels will fall somewhat and may be pushed right -down by the hand. The newel-stair, though it appeareth not, is double -and one may creep down thereby to the chamber itself.’” - - [6] A small cupboard made in the thickness of the wall. - - [7] A newel staircase is a spiral staircase circling round the newel, - i.e., the centre shaft or post. - -The fact was,--that what appeared to be simply the under side of -the steps, to any one going up the staircase, was really a second -staircase, leaving a space of nearly three feet between the two. - -The children did not read further at that time, as they were eager at -once to see if they could put their discovery to the test. - -Aline put down the book and went to the ambry and opened the door. -The single shelf came forward without difficulty. “Have you found -anything?” Audry asked eagerly. - -“Yes,” she replied, “but I cannot move it; it is too stiff.” - -“Let me have a try,” and Audry stepped forward and put her fingers into -the space. “My hands are stronger than yours,” she said. “Ah, that -is it!” she exclaimed, as she felt the lever move to one side, and by -working it backwards and forwards she soon made it quite loose. - -[Illustration: The Moving Plank and the Way to the Secret Room.] - -Aline meanwhile had already put her little foot on the third board, -at the end just against the wall, and felt it yield. The other end -was now sufficiently raised to allow of the fingers being passed -underneath. She lifted it up and found that it was simply attached to -a bar about six inches from the wall-end. They both peeped into the -opening disclosed and felt round it. Aline was the first to find the -bolt and pulled it forward. But alas no panel moved. Audry looked ready -to weep, but Aline exclaimed, “Oh, it must be all right as we have got -so far; let us feel the panels and try and force them down. This is the -one above the bolt,” and she put her fingers on it to try and make it -slide down. She had no sooner spoken than the panel moved an inch and, -slipping her hand inside, she pressed it down to the bottom. The panel -tended to rise again when she let go, as the bottom rested on the arm -of a weighted lever. It looked very gloomy inside but the children were -determined to go on. They then found that there was just comfortable -room for them to go backwards down the stairs and that there would have -been room even for a big man to manage it without much difficulty. -There were many cobwebs and once or twice their light threatened to go -out; but at last they reached the bottom, crawling on hands and knees -the whole way. There they found a long narrow passage, in the thickness -of the wall, of immense length. They went along this for a great -distance and then began to get frightened. - -“Where ever can we have got to?” Audry said at length. - -“It is quite clear that we are wrong,” said Aline, “as the library, we -know, is just at the bottom of the newel-stair and the book said that -the secret room was just underneath the library. We must go back.” - -“What if we go wrong again and lose our way altogether, Aline, and -never get out of this horrible place?” - -It was a terrible thought; and the damp smell and forbidding looking -narrow stone passage had a strange effect on the children’s nerves. -Then another thought occurred to Aline that made them still more -nervous. There were occasional slits along the wall for ventilation and -she remembered the words that she had read by chance when she first -discovered the use of the parchment. Supposing that their light should -be seen; what would happen to them then? and yet they dare not put it -out and be left in the dark. - -“I wish that we had never come,” said Audry as they hurried along the -difficult passage. They reached the bottom of the stair and felt a -little reassured. They then saw that the passage turned sharply back on -itself and led in a step or two to a door. It was of very stout oak and -plated with iron. They opened it and found that it had eight great iron -bolts that could be shut on that side. Within was a second door equally -strong and, on opening that, they found themselves in the secret room -itself. It was a long apartment only about eight feet high, and was -panelled throughout with oak. There was a large and beautiful stone -fireplace, above which was the inscription,--“Let there be no fire -herein save that the fires above be lit.” - -“That must be in case the smoke should show,” said Aline; “how careful -they have been with every little thing!” - -The room was thick with dust and obviously had not been entered for -many many years. Even if the present occupants of Holwick knew of the -secret room at all, which probably they did not, it was clear that they -never made any use of their knowledge. There was a magnificent old oak -bed in one corner but some of the bedding was moth-eaten and destroyed. -There were also many little conveniences in the room, amongst other -things a small book-case containing several books. On the whole it was -a distinctly pleasant apartment despite the absence of any visible -windows. There were even one or two pictures on the walls. In one -corner on the outer wall was a door, which the children opened, and -which clearly led to the underground passage below the moat; but they -decided not to examine any more that night. So they made their way up -the stairs again back to their room. - -They were almost too excited to sleep and Aline, as her custom was, -when she lay awake, amused herself by building castles in the air. -Sometimes she would imagine herself as a great lady, sought after by -all the noble knights of the land, but holding herself aloof with -reserved dignity until one, by some deed of unusual distinction, should -win her favour. As a rule, however, this seemed rather a dull part to -play, though there was something naturally queenly in her nature, and -she would therefore prefer something more active. She would take the -old Scots romance of Burd Helen, or Burd Aline, as her own inspiration, -and follow her knight in the disguise of a page over mountain and -torrent and through every hardship. This better suited the romantic -self-sacrifice of her usual moods and, by its imaginary deeds of -heroism, ministered just as much to her sense of exaltation. To-night -had opened vistas of new suggestion; and she pictured her knight and -herself fleeing before a host of enemies and miraculously disappearing -at the critical moment into the secret room. But at last she fell -into a sound slumber and did not wake till it was nearly time for the -morning meal. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -HATE AND LOVE - - -Aline certainly did not belong to any ordinary type and she would have -puzzled the psychologist to classify. She was so many sided as to be in -a class by herself. She had plenty of common sense and intelligence for -her years and an outlook essentially fair minded and just. But she also -had a quiet hauteur, curiously coupled with humility, and at the same -time a winning manner that was irresistible; so that the strange thing -was that she had only to ask and most people voluntarily submitted -to her desires. This unusual power might have been very dangerous to -her character and spoiled her, had it not been that what she wanted -was almost always just and reasonable and moreover she never used her -power for her own benefit. Further, her humble estimate of her own -capacity for judgment caused her but rarely to exercise the power at -all. In practice it was almost confined to those cases where a sweet -minded child’s natural instinct for fair play sees further than the -sophistries of the adult. - -She was practically unaware of this power, which was destined to bring -her into conflict with Eleanor Mowbray; nor did she take the least -delight, as she might easily have done, in exercising power for power’s -sake. - -Eleanor Mowbray, on the other hand, like so many women, loved -power. Masculine force has so largely monopolised the more obvious -manifestations of power that it might be said to be almost a feminine -instinct to snatch at all opportunities that offer themselves. - -Be that as it may, Mistress Mowbray loved to use power for the sake -of using it; she loved to make her household realise that she was -mistress. She did not exactly mean to be unkind, but they were servants -and they must feel that they were servants. Her attitude to them was -that of the servant who has risen or the one so commonly exhibited -toward servants by small girls, that puzzles and disgusts their small -brothers. - -She would address them contemptuously, or would impatiently lose her -self-control and shout at them. She lacked consideration and would -call them from their main duties to perform petty services, which she -could perfectly well have done for herself. This was irritating to the -servants and there was always a good deal of friction. The servants -tended to lose their loyalty and, when once the bond of common interest -was broken, what did it matter to Martha, the laundry-maid, that she -one day scorched and destroyed the most cherished and valuable piece -of lace that Mistress Mowbray possessed; or of what concern was it to -Edward, the seneschal, that in cleaning the plate, he broke the lid -off her pouncet box and not only did not trouble to tell her, but when -charged with it, coolly remarked, after the manner of his kind,--“Oh, -it came to pieces in my hands!” - -On one occasion, before the discovery of the secret room, when Edward -was away, Thomas, a sly unprincipled man, whose duties were with the -horses, had taken his place for the day. The four silver goblets, which -he had placed on the table, were all of them tarnished; and after the -meal was over, Mistress Mowbray said to him sharply,--“Thomas, what do -you mean by putting dirty goblets on the high table?”[8] - - [8] The table on the raised dais at which the family sat. The - retainers sat at the two lower tables. See plan. - -“I am sure I did my best, Mistress,” said Thomas; “I spent a great -amount of pains in laying the table, but we all of us make mistakes -sometimes.” - -“Then go and clean them at once, you scullion, and bring them back to -me to look at directly you have finished.” - -“Please, Mistress, that is not my work,” replied Thomas, “and I have a -great deal to do in the stables this afternoon.” As a matter of fact he -had finished his work in the stables and was planning for an easy time. - -“Do you dare to talk to me?” she said, her voice rising. “You are here -to do as you are told; go and clean them at once, or it will be the -worse for you.” She knew that this time the man was within his rights; -but she was not going to be dictated to by a servant. - -Thomas sulkily departed. When he reached the buttery he remembered that -he had noticed Edward cleaning some of the goblets the day before. He -soon found them, and then drew himself a measure of ale and sat down -with a chuckle to enjoy himself over the liquor, while allowing for the -time that would have been needed to clean the silver. - -Meanwhile Mistress Mowbray began impatiently to walk up and down -the hall. The children were generally allowed to go out after dinner -and amuse themselves, but it was a wet day and Aline was looking -disconsolately out of the window wondering whether she should go into -the library or what she should do, when the angry dame thought that the -child offered an object for the further exercise of her power. “Why are -you idling there?” she said. “They are all short-handed to-day, go you -and scour out the sink and then take out the pig-bucket and be quick -about it.” - -Aline gave a little gasp of surprise, but ran off at once. The buttery -door was open and she saw Thomas drinking and offering a tankard to one -of the other servants, and she heard him laugh loudly as he pointed to -a row of goblets, four of them clean and the rest of them dirty, while -he said,--“Edward cleaned those, and I am waiting here as long as it -would take to clean them.” He caught sight of her and scowled, but she -passed on. - -Aline had soon finished the sink and ran quickly with the pig-bucket, -after which she returned to the dining hall to tell Mistress Mowbray -she had finished. Thomas had just come in, so she stood and waited. - -He held up the four goblets on a tray for Mistress Mowbray to inspect. - -“Yes, those are better, Thomas,” she said frigidly. Thomas could not -conceal a faint smile and the lady became suspicious. “By the way, -Thomas, there are a dozen of these goblets, bring me the others.” - -“Yes, Mistress,” said Thomas, triumphantly, “but they were all dirty -and I have just cleaned these.” - -Mistress Mowbray saw that she could not catch him that way, but felt -that the man was somehow getting the better of her, so she merely -replied calmly,--“Then you can clean the whole set, Thomas, and bring -me the dozen to look at.” - -Aline nearly burst into a laugh, but put her hand to her mouth and -smothered it without Mistress Mowbray seeing; but Thomas saw and as he -departed, crest-fallen, he vowed vengeance in his heart. - -“Have you done what I told you, child?” Mistress Mowbray said, turning -to Aline. “Marry, but I trust you have done it well. It is too wet for -you to go out; you can start carding a bag of wool that I will give -you. That will keep you busy.” - -Aline sighed, as she had hoped to get into the library and she wondered -what Audry was doing, who had been shrewd enough to get away, but she -said nothing and turned to her task. - -At first Eleanor Mowbray’s treatment of Aline was merely the joy of -ordering some one about, of compelling some one to do things whether -they liked to or not, just because they were not in a position of power -to say no; but what gave her a secret additional joy was that Aline was -a lady and she herself was not. True, Aline’s father was only one of -the lesser Lairds, but he was a gentleman of coat armour,[9] whereas -Eleanor Mowbray was merely the beautiful daughter of the wealthy -vintner of York. It caused Eleanor Mowbray great satisfaction to have -the power to compel a gentleman’s daughter to serve her in what her -plebeian mind considered degrading occupations. It was for this reason -therefore that Aline was set to scour sinks, scrub floors and empty -slops, with no deliberate attempt to be unkind, but simply to feed the -love of power. - - [9] A gentleman is a man who has the right conferred by a royal grant - to his ancestors or himself of bearing a coat of arms. It is not - as high a rank as esquire with which it is often confused. - -As a matter of fact, so long as the tasks remained within her physical -strength, Aline was too much of a lady to mind and, if need had been, -would have cleaned out a stable, a pigsty or a sewer itself, with grace -and dignity and even have lent distinction to such occupations. - -But these very qualities led to further antagonism on Eleanor Mowbray’s -part. They were part of that power of the true lady that in Aline was -developed to an almost superhuman faculty and which went entirely -beyond any power of which Mistress Mowbray even dreamed and yet -without the child making any effort to get it. Aline herself indeed -was unconscious of her strength as anything exceptional. She had been -brought up by her father, practically alone and had not as yet come to -realise how different she was from other children. - -It was the morning after the discovery of the secret room that Mistress -Mowbray had the first indication that Aline had a power that might -rival her own. It was a small incident, but it sank deeply and Eleanor -Mowbray did not forget it. - -She was expecting a number of guests to dinner and it looked as though -nothing would be ready in time. She rushed to and fro from the hall -to the kitchen upbraiding the servants and talking in a loud and -domineering tone. But the servants, who were working as hard as the -average of their class, became sullen and went about their labours -with less rather than more effort. - -Eleanor Mowbray was furious and finding Aline still at her spinning -wheel, where she herself had put her, “’Sdeath child,” she exclaimed, -“this is no time for spinning, what possesses you? I cannot get those -varlets to work, everything is in confusion,--knaves!--hussies!--go you -to the kitchen and lend a hand and that right speedily.” - -Aline felt sorry for her hostess, who certainly was like enough to have -her entertainment spoilt. She had already noticed that the servants in -the hall were very half-hearted, so she said, “I will do what I can, -Mistress Mowbray, perhaps I might help to get them to work.” - -“You, indeed,” said the irate lady, “ridiculous child!--but go along -and assist to carry the dishes.” - -Aline rose and passed into the screens and down the central passage to -the kitchen. The place was filled with loud grumbling, almost to the -verge of mutiny. - -As the queenly little figure stood in the doorway, the servants nudged -each other and the voices straightway subsided. - -“Hush, she will be telling tales,” said one of the maids quietly. - -“Nonsense,” said Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, who was assisting, “surely -you know the child better than that.” - -For a moment or two Aline did not speak and a strange feeling of shame -seemed to pervade the place. - -“Elspeth,” said Aline, while the flicker of a smile betrayed her, “if -you run about so, you’ll wear out your shoon; you should sit on the -table and swing your feet like Joseph there.” - -“Now, hinnie, why for are you making fun of an old body?” - -“I would not make fun of you for anything,” said Aline; “but look at -his shoon; are they not fine,--and his beautiful lily-white hands?” - -“Look as if you never did a day’s work, Joe,” said Silas, the reeve. - -“Oh, no, he works with his brain, he’s thinking,” said Aline, putting -her hand to her brow with mock gravity. “He’s reckoning up his fortune. -How much is it, Joseph?” - -“Methinks his fortune will all be reckonings,” said Silas, “for he’ll -never get any other kind.” - -“Well, we’ll change the subject; there’s going to be a funeral here -to-night,” Aline observed. - -“No, really?” exclaimed half a dozen voices. - -“Yes, it’s a terrible story and it really ought not to be known; but -you’ll keep it secret I know,” she said, lowering her voice to a -whisper. - -As they crowded round her she went on in mysterious tones, “You know -John Darley and Philip Emberlin.” - -“Yes,” said Joe, rousing himself to take in the situation, “they are -coming here to-night.” - -“They’ve a long way to come and they are not strong,” said Aline, “and -they will arrive hungry and just have to be buried, because there was -nothing to eat. Yes, it’s a sad story; I’m not surprised to see the -tears in your eyes, Joseph, and, in fact, in a manner of speaking you -might say that you will have killed them, you and your accomplices,” -she added, looking round. - -A good tempered laugh greeted this last sally. - -“Marry, we have much to get through. How can I help? It would be a -sorry thing that Holwick should be disgraced before its guests. Give me -something to do.” - -There was nothing in the words, but the tone was one of dignity -combined with gentleness and sympathy. - -The effect was peculiar;--no one felt reproved, but felt rather as -though there was full sympathy with his own point of view; yet at the -same time he was conscious that he would lose his own dignity if he -became querulous and allowed the honour of the house to suffer. - -Aline helped for a short time and then, leaving them for a moment -all cheerful and joking but working with a will, she looked into the -buttery, where she saw Thomas and Edward, the seneschal, a pompous but -good hearted fellow, merely talking and doing nothing. - -“You are not setting us a good example,” she said laughing; “everybody -else is working so hard,” and then she added in a tone that combined -something of jest, something of command and something of a coaxing -quality, “do try to keep things going; Master Richard would be much put -about if he failed in his hospitality.” - -This time there was undoubtedly a very gentle sting in the tone that -pricked Edward’s vanity; yet his own conscience smote him, so that he -bore no ill will. - -He said nothing, however, but Thomas remarked;--“Yes, Mistress Aline, -the sin of idleness is apt to get hold of us, we must to our work as -you say.” - -Aline raised her eyebrows slightly, the ill-bred vulgarity of the -remark was too much for her sensitive nature. Thomas was marked by -that lack of refinement that cheapens all that is noble and good by -ostentatious piety and sentimentality. - -Aline gave a little shiver and passed on to do the same with the -others. She also took her full share in the work, so that in fifteen -minutes everything was moving smoothly. It was done entirely out of -kindness, but Eleanor Mowbray felt that it was a triumph at her expense -and although Aline had helped her out of a difficulty, she only bore a -grudge against her. - -Thomas also was nettled. Aline had got the better of him; he suspected -her, too, of seeing through his hypocrisy; which, as a matter of fact, -she had only partially done, as she was so completely disgusted at his -vulgarity that she did not look further. - -It was not till the afternoon that the children had any opportunity to -pursue their own devices and they decided, as the day was fine and the -storm had cleared away, that they would go down to the river near-by -and see the waterfall before the water had had time greatly to abate. - -They did not go straight across the moor, but went by way of the small -hamlet of Holwick. Everything looked bright and green after the rain, -varied by the grey stone walls, that ran across the country, separating -the little holdings. The distance was brilliantly blue and the wide -spaciousness that characterises the great rolling moorland scenery was -enhanced by the beauty of the day. - -The children turned into the second cottage which was even humbler than -its neighbours. It was a long, low, thatched building, roughly built -of stone with clay instead of mortar. Within, a portion was divided -off at one end by a wooden partition. There was no window save one -small opening under the low eaves which was less than six feet from the -ground. It was about eight inches square and filled with a piece of -oiled canvas on a rudely made movable frame instead of glass. In warm -weather it often stood open. - -The children stumbled as they entered the dark room and crossed the -uneven floor of stamped earth. There was no movable furniture save -one or two wooden kists or chests, a dilapidated spinning wheel and a -couple of small stools. In the very middle of the floor was a fire of -peats on a flat slab of stone in the ground and a simple hole in the -roof allowed the choking smoke to escape after it had wandered round -the whole building. - -An old man, bent double with rheumatism, hastened forward as the -children came to the door and, holding out both his hands, shook -Audry’s and Aline’s at the same time. “I am right glad to see you,” he -said, “and may the Mother of God watch over you.” - -He quickly brought two stools and, carefully dusting them first, bade -his young visitors sit down by the fire. - -“How is Joan to-day, Peter,” asked Aline, “she isn’t out again is she?” - -“No, Mistress Aline, she has been worse the last few days and is in -bed, but maybe the brighter weather will soon see her out and about.” - -He hobbled over toward a corner of the cottage, where a box-bed stood -out from the wall. It was closed in all around like a great cupboard, -with sliding shutters in the front. These were drawn back, but the -interior was concealed by a curtain. He drew aside this curtain and -within lay a little girl about eleven years old with thin wasted -cheeks and hollow sunken eyes. She stretched out her small hand as the -two children approached and a smile lit up the white drawn face. - -Aline stooped and kissed her. “Oh, Joan,” she said, “I wish you would -get well, but it is always the same, no sooner are you up than you are -back in bed again. I have been asking Master Mowbray about you and he -has promised that the leech from Barnard Castle shall come and see you -as soon as he can get word to him.” - -“It is good of you to think and plan about me, Mistress Aline, and I -believe I am not quite so badly to-day, but I wish that horrid old -‘Moll o’ the graves’ would not come in here and look at me. She does -frighten me so. Mother was always so frightened of Moll.” - -“She is a wretched old thing,” said Audry, “but do not let us think -about her.” - -“You mustn’t thank us, anybody would do the same,” said Aline; “you -cannot think how sorry we are to see you like this, and you must just -call me Aline the same as I call you Joan. See! Audry and I have -brought you a few flowers and some little things from the Hall that old -Elspeth has put up for us, and when the leech comes, he will soon make -you well again.” - -“I sometimes wonder whether I shall ever get well any more; each time -I have to go back to bed I seem to be worse. All my folk are gone now -and I am the only one left. The flowers are right bonnie though and -the smell of them does me good,” she added, as she lifted the bunch of -early carnations that the children had brought. - -After she had spoken she let her hand fall and lay quite still gazing -at the two as though even the few words had been too great an effort. - -The bed looked very uncomfortable and Aline and Audry did their best -to smooth it a little, after which Joan closed her eyes and seemed -inclined to sleep. - -“I wish we could get her up to the Hall,” said Aline in a whisper, “the -smoke is so terrible and I never saw such a dreadful place as that bed.” - -“Mother would never hear of it; so it’s no use your thinking of such a -thing.” - -They returned to the fire and sat down on the stools for a few moments -before leaving. - -“Ay, the child is about right,” said the old man, “her poor mother -brought her here from Kirkoswald when her man died last November. -Sarah Moulton was a sort of cousin of my wife who has been lying down -in Middleton churchyard this many a long year. She lived in this very -house as a girl and seemed to think she would be happier here than in -Kirkoswald. Well, it was not the end of March before she had gone too -and the lassie is all that is left.” - -The children bade farewell and went out. As they passed the end of the -house they saw the black figure of an old woman creeping round the back -as though not wishing to be seen. - -“Oh, there’s that horrible old woman! ‘Moll o’ the graves,’” said -Audry; “let us run. I wonder what she has been doing listening round -the house; I hate her. You know, Aline, they say she does all manner -of dreadful things, that it was she who made all old Benjamin Darley’s -sheep die. Some people say she eats children and if she cannot get hold -of them alive she digs them up from their graves at night. I do not -believe it, but come along.” - -“No, I want to see what she is doing,” said Aline; “I am sure she is up -to no good. I believe that she has been spying outside waiting for us -to depart, so that she can go in.” - -“But you cannot prevent her,” said Audry. - -“We must prevent her,” said Aline; “she might frighten Joan to death.” - -Aline was right and the old woman came round from the other end of the -house and approached the cottage door. Aline at once advanced and stood -between the old woman and the door, while Audry followed and took up -her position beside Aline. - -“What do you want, mother?” said Aline. - -“What business is that of yours?” said the old dame savagely; “you -clear away from that door or I will make it the worse for you.” - -She raised her stick as she spoke and glared at the children. It was -not her physical strength that frightened them, as they were two in -number, although she was armed with a stick, but something gruesome and -unearthly about her manner. Aline took a step forward so as half to -shelter Audry, but her breath came quickly and she was filled with an -unspeakable dread. - -“You must not go in there,” said the child firmly; “there is a little -girl within who is sick and she must not be disturbed.” - -“I shall do as I please and go in if I please,” she muttered, advancing -to the door and laying her hand on the latch. - -Aline at once seized her by the shoulders, saying, “I may want your -help, Audry,” and gently but firmly turned her round and guided her -on to the road. Moll made no resistance, as she feared the publicity -of the road and moreover the girls were both strong and well built, -though of different types. Aline then stepped so as to face her, and -keeping one hand on her shoulder, she said, as she looked her full in -the eyes,--“go home, Moll, Joan is not well enough to see any one else -to-day,--go home.” - -The old woman’s eyes dropped; she was cowed; she felt herself in the -presence of something she had never met before, as she caught the fire -in those intense blue eyes. “I will never forgive you,” she snarled, -but she skulked down the road like a beaten dog. - -The children stood and watched her, feeling a little shaken after their -unpleasant experience. - -“What a good thing you were there,” said Audry. “I am sure she would -have frightened Joan terribly.” - -“Come, let us forget it,” and they raced down to the waterfall. - -It was a magnificent sight, one great seething mass of foam, -cream-white as it boiled over the cliff; while below, the dark brown -peat-coloured water swirled, mysteriously swift and deep, and rainbows -danced in the flying spray. They walked down the stream a little way -watching the rushing flood, when Aline suddenly cried out, “Audry, what -is that on the other side?” - -Just under the rock, partly concealed by the over-hanging foliage, -could be made out with some difficulty the form of a man. He was lying -quite still and although they watched for a long time he never moved at -all. - -“I wonder if he is hiding,” said Audry. - -“I am sure he is not,” said Aline. “It would be a very poor place to -hide, particularly when there are so many better ones quite close by. -He may be drowned.” - -“Possibly, but I think he is too high out of the water.” - -“Then perhaps he is only hurt; I wonder if there is anything that we -could do.” - -“We might go up to the Hall and get help,” Audry suggested. - -“Yes,” said Aline, doubtfully, as the thought crossed her mind that he -might be the poor stranger whom the country-side was hunting like a -beast of prey and although she could not explain her feelings she felt -too much pity to do anything that might help the hunters and therefore -it would not be wise to go to the Hall. It was partly the natural -gentleness of her nature and partly her instinctive abhorrence of the -vindictive way in which Mistress Mowbray had spoken on the previous -night. - -Then a shudder passed through her as she looked at the foaming torrent. -Any help that could be given must be through that. Aline was only -a child; but until she came to Holwick Hall she had lived entirely -with older people and realised as children rarely do the full horror -of death. It was so easy to stay where she was, she was not even -absolutely certain that the stranger was in any real danger. It was not -her concern. But Aline from long association with her brave father had -a measure of masculine physical courage that will even court danger -and that overcame her natural girlish timidity, and along with that -she had in unusual degree the true feminine courage that can suffer in -silence looking for no approval, no victory and no reward, the stuff -of which martyrs are made. “He is obviously unfortunate,” she said to -herself,--“Oh, if I could only help him, what does it matter about me, -and yet how beautiful the day is, the rainbows, the clear air, the -flowers and dear Audry; must I risk them all?” - -She was not sure, however, what line her cousin might take and -therefore did not like to express her thoughts aloud. On the other hand -she could do nothing without Audry, but she thought it best to keep her -own counsel and do as much as she could before Audry could possibly -hinder her. So she only said;--“But if we went for help to the Hall -it might be too late before any one came, if he is injured and still -alive.” - -At this moment both of them distinctly saw the figure move, and Aline -at once said, “Oh, we must help him at once. I am sure we should not be -in time if we went up to the Hall. We might find no one who could come -and there might be all manner of delays.” - -“But whatever can you do, Aline, he is on the other side?” - -“I shall try and swim across,” she said, after thinking a moment. - -“What, in all this flood! That is impossible.” - -“I think I could manage it, if I went a little lower down the river -where the torrent is not quite so bad.” - -“Aline, you will be killed; you must not think of it.” - -But Aline had already started down the bank to the spot that she had in -her mind. Audry ran after her, horror struck and yet unable to offer -further opposition. - -“Well,” she said, “you are always astonishing me,” as Aline was taking -off her shoes; “you seem too timid and quiet, and here you are doing -what a man would not attempt.” - -“My father would have attempted it,” was all that Aline vouchsafed in -reply. - -She took off her surcoat, her coat-hardie and her hose, and then turned -and kissed Audry. “There is no one to care but you,” she said, “if I -never come back.” - -For a few moments the little slim figure stood looking at the black -whirling of the treacherous water, her dainty bare feet on the hard -rocks. Her white camise lifted and fluttered over her limbs like the -draperies of some Greek maiden, the sunlight flushing the delicate -texture of her skin, while her beautiful hair flew behind her in the -breeze. It was but a passing hesitation and then she plunged in and -headed diagonally up the river. She struck out hard and found that she -could make some progress from the shore although she was being swiftly -carried down the stream. If only she could reach the other side before -she was swept down to the rapids below, where she must inevitably be -smashed to pieces on the rocks! It was a terrible struggle and Audry -sat down on the bank and watched her, overcome by tears. “Oh, Aline, -little Aline,” she cried, “why did I ever let you go?” At last she -could bear to look no longer. Aline had drawn nearer and nearer to the -rapids, and although she was now close to the further bank there seemed -not the slightest hope of her getting through. - -She held on bravely, straining herself to the utmost, but it was no -use;--she was in the rapids when only a couple of yards from the -shore. Almost at once she struck a great rock, but, as it seemed by -a miracle, although much bruised, she was carried over the smooth -water-worn surface and by a desperate movement that taxed her strength -to the uttermost, was able to force herself across it and the small -intervening space of broken water and scramble on to the shore. - -When Audry at length looked up, Aline was standing wringing the water -out of her dripping hair, shaken and bruised and cut in several places, -but alive. She took off the garment she had on and wrung it out before -putting it on again. She then paused for a moment not knowing what to -do. Blood was flowing freely from a deep cut below the right knee and -also from a wound on the back of her right shoulder. She hesitated to -tear her things for fear of the wrath of Mistress Mowbray, but at the -same time was frightened at the loss of blood. Finally she tore off -some strips of linen and bandaged herself as well as she could manage -and made her way to where the man was lying. - -Ian Menstrie had had a hard struggle. He had been working as a -carpenter in Paris and had fallen in with some of his exiled countrymen -and become for a time a servant to John Knox. It was three weeks -since he had left France with the important documents that he was -bearing from Knox and others; and only his iron determination had -carried him through. Time and again nothing but the utmost daring and -resourcefulness had enabled him to slip through his enemies’ hands. He -had actually been searched twice unsuccessfully before he was finally -arrested as a heretic at York. After extreme suffering he had escaped -again and the precious papers were still with him. He had reached Aske -Hall in Yorkshire, some twenty miles or so, over the hills, from -Holwick, the home of Elizabeth of Aske, mother of Margaret Bowes, whom -Knox had married, a lady with whom the reformer regularly corresponded. - -But almost at once he again had to give his pursuers the slip, and he -made his way up Teesdale with the precious papers still on him. - -Although they were hot on his trail he had managed to get through -Middleton in the night unobserved and would probably have reached the -hills and got away North, unseen; but he met a little four-year-old boy -on the road, who had fallen and hurt himself and was sitting in the -rain and crying bitterly. There was nothing serious about it, but the -child had a large bruise on his forehead. Ian had hesitated a moment, -looking apprehensively behind, but stopped and bathed the bruise at a -beck close by, comforted the child and carried him to his home and set -him down just outside the little garden. - -The delay, however, had cost him dear; the day was now fully up and -two or three people noticed the stranger as he left the road to try -and make for the steepest ground where pursuit would be less easy. -Shortly afterwards he had seen men in the distance, both on foot and -on horseback, setting out on his track and, with infinite difficulty, -availing himself of every hollow, at the risk of being seen at any -moment he had made his way to the river. If only he could get across, -he argued, he might consider himself tolerably safe. They would never -suspect that he was on that side and it was in any case the best -road to the North. He knew little of the country, of course, or that -there was a better place to attempt the feat lower down the stream. -He leaped in where he found himself and being a strong swimmer he -made his way over but was sucked down by an eddy and dashed against -the cliff on the opposite side, but on coming to the surface again he -had just sufficient strength to get out of the water and crawl along -the ledge of rock to where the overhanging leaves afforded at least a -partial concealment. Indeed, the place was such an unlikely one that -anybody actually searching for him would probably have overlooked it. - -He had lain there for hours, the pain in his head being intense. One -ankle was badly sprained and much swollen and he felt sure that he -had broken his left collar bone. He had had nothing to eat for days -and the dizziness and the pain together caused him repeatedly to fall -into a fitful doze from which he would wake trembling, with his heart -beating violently. It was after one of these dozes that he woke and, -on opening his eyes, saw a little figure in white bending over him, -whose large dark blue eyes, filled with pity, were looking into his -face. Her long hair fell down so as to touch him and her beautiful arms -rested on the rock on either side of his head. At first he thought it -was a water-sprite with dripping locks, of which many tales were told -by the country folk, and then he noticed the blood oozing from below -the bandage on the little arm. “Who are you?” he asked at last, as his -senses gradually returned. - -“My name is Aline and I have come to help you,” she said. - -“But, sweet child, how can you do that?” - -As his brain became clearer he became more able to face the situation. -Who could this exquisite fairy-like little damsel possibly be, and -how could she ever have heard of him and why should any family that -wished to help him do it by the hands of any one so young? Then she was -wet and wounded, which made the case still more extraordinary. “Little -one,” he went on, “why have you come; do you know who I am?” - -“No,” she said, “but I saw you lying on the rock and so I came across -to try and do something for you.” - -“You do not mean to say that you swam that raging river?” - -“It was the only way to reach you.” - -“And you are really a little girl and not a water fay?” he asked half -playfully and half wondering if there really could be such things, as -so many people seriously believed. It was almost easier to believe in -fairies than to believe that a little girl had actually swum that flood. - -“Of course I am; you have hurt your head and are talking nonsense.” - -It seemed hard to tell her who he was; this charming little maiden -would then hate him like the rest. It was not that he thought that she -could possibly be of serious assistance to him; but it was a vision of -delight and there was a music in the sound of her voice that to the -exile reminded him of his own country. Yet he felt it was his duty and -indeed the child might be running great risks and get herself into -dire trouble even by speaking to him, so intense was the hatred of the -heretics. - -“Child, you must not help me. I am a heretic.” - -“I guessed that you were,” she said, and the large eyes were full of -pity, “but somehow I feel that it is right to aid any one in distress.” - -“When you are older, little one, you will think differently. It is -only your sweet natural child-heart that instinctively sees the right -without prejudice or sophistry.” - -“I am afraid that I do not understand you; but we must not stop talking -here, we must get you to a place of safety.” - -“Will your people help me?” he said, as a possible explanation occurred -to him. “Are they of the reformed faith?” - -“Are they heretics? you mean; no, indeed.” There was just the suspicion -of a touch of scorn in her voice; it was true that to her a heretic was -a member of a despised class, but there was also a slight, commingling -of bitterness that gave the ring to her words, and which he did not -detect, when she thought of the unreasoning and uncharitable prejudice -that Mistress Mowbray had shown the day before. - -“But that does not mean that I would not help you,” she went on. “See -this is what we must do. Somehow or other we must get back to the other -side and first I ought to bandage your head. Have you hurt yourself -anywhere else?” She looked him up and down as she spoke. “Oh, your -ankle is all swollen and bleeding where you have torn your hose; we -must try and do something for that.” - -“That can wait for the present,” he said, glancing apprehensively at -his shoes, which mercifully were still uninjured on his feet; “the -worst thing is that I think that I have broken my collar bone. But -before we do anything I must try and help you bandage your shoulder -more satisfactorily for it is bleeding very badly. That will not be -very easy,” he added, smiling, “as I have only one arm and you yourself -cannot reach it.” - -She let him try and between them they managed it somehow, and he -wondered again as he tenderly manipulated the bandage, how such a -little fragile thing could be undertaking such a strenuous task. - -“I have not time to explain,” said Aline, “but there is a secret -chamber in the Hall where you could be hidden, but we could not -possibly get you there until it is dark. There is, however, a hollow -tree on the other side where we sometimes play, in which you can sit -with your feet outside and they can be covered up with grass and -leaves. It is perhaps a little dangerous but I see no other way if your -life is to be saved. Can you bend your arm at all?” she went on. “Has -it any strength in it?” - -“It is practically useless,” he replied. - -“Well, somehow or other we have to swim back across that river; and it -is lucky that it is enormously easier from this side. The rapids set -towards this bank and on the other side there is a sort of backwater -opposite to where the rapids begin on this. We can also with very -little danger venture to start some twenty yards higher up than I did -when I was coming.” - -“But I do not think I could swim at all in that rush with only one -arm, and in any case you will have to go round; you must not dream of -attempting to swim that water again.” - -With all her gentleness there was something very queenly about Aline. -She lifted her head and said,--“We must both go and you must somehow -hold on to me and there is no more to be said.” - -He tried to dissuade her, but the little thing was adamant. He despised -himself for allowing a child to help him at all, but was almost as -under a spell. His will power under normal conditions was one of the -most remarkable things about him; but the pain of fatigue and the long -nervous strain had deprived him for the moment of his self-mastery. His -head was full of strange noises and he seemed as though he were in a -dream. At last he yielded, retaining just enough self-consciousness to -determine that he would let himself go, and drown, if he were too great -a drag on her. It was clear, as she said, that if she had already swum -the other way, there was little real risk for her alone. Moreover the -water was falling all the time and, even since she had come over, the -stream was slightly less. - -Before starting Aline looked round everywhere cautiously and then -called to Audry, who was watching on the other side, to have a long -branch ready to hold out to them. When Audry had obtained the branch -they entered the water. Although the pain was almost intolerable he -had decided to put his injured arm on her shoulder and it answered -beyond their expectations. He was a very strong swimmer and all that -it was necessary for Aline to do was to give the slight help necessary -to counteract the one-sided tendency and to improve the balance of the -forward part of the body, which otherwise would greatly have reduced -the speed. So well did they manage it that they even got across with -some ten yards to spare, being still further helped by Audry’s branch. - -They clambered up the bank, a task not easy of accomplishment, and took -Ian Menstrie at once to the tree which was close by. Aline put on her -clothes, taking the remains of her linen shift for bandages. Luckily -she had on several occasions in her father’s house helped to nurse -the injured and knew how to bind the collar bone and make as good a -piece of work of the ankle as the extemporised bandages would allow. -Then bidding him good-bye the children hurried back to the Hall. Aline -longed to take him food but decided that, sad as it was, it would be -better to run no risks whatever. Moreover, she wanted to discover the -passage under the moat and there was none too long before the evening -meal. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE PRISONER - - -As they walked rapidly back, their tongues moved faster than their feet. - -“Well, you’ve beaten Burd Aline,” said Audry, laughing; “you’ve rescued -your knight before you even know his name. But I’m quite sure it’s -all the wrong way round;--the knight should rescue his lady. Besides, -what’s the good of a man in homespun; you need some grand person; you -do not know how to do these things, my lady. I wonder who he is.” - -“He’s Scots anyway; one can tell that from his accent.” - -“I suppose you think a Scots peasant better than an English gentleman.” - -“I will not be denying it,” laughed Aline. - -“Oh! then yours shall be a peasant-knight, you always choose things -different from other people. But I like his face, it looks strong.” - -“Yes, but I am afraid he has had a terrible time,” said Aline; “how sad -those deep-set eyes are; but they seem determined.” - -“Don’t you like his mouth and chin? It’s a strong chin and I like those -well-shaped sensitive lips.” - -“Yes, but I think the eyes are more striking.” - -“It’s no good, though, having a knight at all, certainly not a -peasant-knight,” said Audry roguishly, “unless he has nice lips.” - -Aline smiled. “You’re getting frivolous. Now be serious, we have a -great deal to do.” - -They reached the Hall, ran up to their bedroom and before they started -on their further explorations Aline took out the book so as to be -prepared for emergencies. She read on for some time and discovered -several things, one was the way to open the trap door that led into -the cave and especially the way that it could be made to open from -the outside if the inner bolts were not fastened. Another important -discovery was that the door of their room could be locked by an -ingenious bolt in the secret stairway, that pushed back from the -bolt-hole into the lock itself. This enabled any one to leave the room -unlocked when away, so as to excite no suspicion. Yet on returning, -after seeing that the room was empty, by peering through a small -slit, one could, by locking the door, make sure that one would not be -caught by any one entering the room at the same moment. The children -again made their way down the stairs to the secret room where they -paused a few moments to look at things for which there was not time -on the previous occasion. There were several cupboards, one of which -had stone shelves and was clearly intended for a larder. There was -amongst other things a large iron chest, which did not seem to have any -lock and which greatly excited their curiosity. In another chest they -found several pistols and swords besides a few foils and some fencing -masks. There were also some tools and some rope and a whole wardrobe of -clothes of many kinds. Most of the things were very old but a certain -number were comparatively recent. At the same time there was nothing to -indicate that the room had been used for the last twenty years. - -“Come, we must not stay looking at these things, however interesting,” -said Aline; “we must be getting on. But I am glad there is a nice -place to keep food; only we shall have a great difficulty in getting a -supply.” - -She opened a little door as she spoke and once more they found -themselves in a narrow passage that led down a flight of steps. It -turned abruptly to the right at the bottom of the steps and then went -absolutely straight for what seemed to them an interminable length. -It was only the thought of the wounded man that prevented them from -turning back. There was a little drain at the bottom of the passage -and the whole sloped slightly so that the water that percolated freely -through the walls was carried off. - -At last they reached the end, where the passage terminated in a short -flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a basin hollowed in -the rock and this was fed by a spring of delicious water. They went -up these and found a curious door made of stone. It was fastened with -huge wooden bolts, a precaution, as they afterwards guessed, against -rust. They passed through and discovered that the other side of the -door was quite irregular and rough and the chamber in which they -found themselves, if chamber it could be called, was like a natural -cave. In the middle of the rocky floor was a great stone. Even this -looked natural although they found that, as the book had said, it was -so cunningly shaped and balanced that it would swing into a vertical -position without much effort and allow of a man dropping through on -one side of it. But the clever part of it was,--that what looked like -accidental breaks in the stone were so arranged that certain other -blocks could be fitted into them and the surrounding rock so that it -could not be moved. If then by any accident any one should make his way -into the chamber he would only think that he had come into a natural -cave. Audry let herself down through the hole and with the help of -Aline dropped to the ground, and found herself in a small fissure or -cave, more or less blocked by underwood, where the stream ran through -a little hollow or gully. She succeeded in getting back after making -several unsuccessful attempts. - -“It is an excellent place,” said Audry, “but however shall we get him -through that passage, it is so very narrow and so terribly long.” - -“We might even have to leave him in the cave room to-night,” Aline -replied, “but I think it would be a good idea to count our steps on the -way back. It will be interesting to know how long it is, and we shall -also be able to tell in future how far we are at any moment from the -end.” - -This they did and found that it was 1100 paces, which they reckoned -would be as nearly as possible half a mile. Before they entered their -bedroom again they experimented with the secret bolt that fastened the -door, which acted perfectly, although, like everything else, they found -that it would be the better for a little oil. - -It seemed a long evening, but at last it was time to go to bed. The -children went upstairs and waited impatiently until they were quite -sure that every one was asleep. They had managed to secrete a little -food to take with them and also a few pieces of firewood, and put a -little more in the secret room as they made their way out. They had -already begun to get somewhat used to the stair and found even the long -secret passage less alarming. It was a clear night although there was -no moon, and they made their way without difficulty to the hollow tree. -They found Ian Menstrie stiff with cold and in great pain, but his -senses almost preternaturally alert. - -“I am so glad you have come,” he said. “I thought that something had -prevented you and was wondering whether I could live here till the -morning.” - -Ian’s nature was a combination of strength and tenderness and was as -likely to be exercising its force in protecting or shielding as in -attacking. He had resolutely carried on the work that he felt to be -his duty in spite of the most terrible risks and, when he had finally -been captured and concluded that it was equally his duty to escape, -he had carried out his plans with a ruthless determination; but, in -the presence of these children, only the extreme tenderness of his -character was called into play. - -He looked at the two small figures and, in spite of his terrible -plight, his heart smote him that they should be wandering about at -night instead of getting their rest, and particularly Aline, who had -been through so much already. - -“It is good of you to come, and oh, I do hope that you will take no -harm. How are you feeling, little one?” he asked, addressing Aline. - -“Oh, I am all right,” she said brightly, for she did not wish him or -Audry to know how her arm pained her, and indeed the excitement was -in a way keeping her up. “It is you who are to be asked after; we have -brought you a little to eat now and there will be something else when -we get to the secret room.” - -It was a painful journey. Ian set his teeth and tried to make the best -of it and lean on his small guides as little as possible, but he was -at the last gasp and he was a heavy burden. Luckily he had a naturally -strong constitution and forced it to do its work by the exceptional -strength of his will or he would have succumbed altogether. But he -felt that what he had been through in the last two weeks had weakened -his mental power and was glad that there was a chance for at least a -respite before he would be called upon to face his tormentors again. -In his present condition he felt that he could not answer for himself -and the thought was too terrible. Supposing that they should put him on -the rack once more and that he should deny his faith! Perhaps for the -present at least he was to be spared this. - -They very slowly made their way along the bed of the stream and -eventually reached the cave. Aline helped Audry up through the trap -door first, and then the children just succeeded in getting the injured -man through, for he was becoming less and less able to help himself. -Then began the long weary passage. - -It was an exhausting process and Ian Menstrie seemed to be settling -into a sort of stupor. They had gone about 700 paces when he fell right -down. “I will be going on in a minute,” he answered. So they waited a -moment or two and then asked him if he was ready. “Oh, I am coming in a -minute,” he said once more. They waited again for a time but when they -roused him, each time it was the same reply. “Oh, yes, certainly, I am -coming just in a moment.” Finally there was nothing to be done but half -carry him and half drag him along. - -“I wish we had put him in the cave to-night,” exclaimed Audry. - -“But we should never have got enough things there to make him -comfortable,” said Aline. “I think we are really doing what is best and -it will not be long now before we are there.” - -Aline’s shoulder was excruciating, and she knew that it was bleeding -again. Her other cut had also opened with the strain, and every limb -in her little body ached as it had never done in her life. “I must be -brave,” she said to herself; “what would father have done if he had -been here?” The cold sweat stood on her brow but she never uttered a -murmur and was anxious that Audry, who was fairly worn out herself, -should not know how bad she was feeling. The last 50 yards she -accomplished in intense agony and her thankfulness to reach the chamber -was inexpressible. - -They lit the fire and laid Menstrie on the bed. Then they gave him some -water which seemed to revive him a good deal and he was able to thank -them and to take food. - -When he seemed to have come to himself Aline sat down on a chair. She -leaned back and commenced to shiver, her teeth chattered till her -whole frame shook. The others were frightened; it was clear that she -was suffering from collapse. Luckily there was a fair supply of wood, -as there had been several large pieces in the room when the children -discovered it, and they had brought a quantity of small stuff. -So there was soon a roaring fire and they were able to give Aline -something hot to drink. Ian in spite of his own injuries did all that -he could. They managed to shift the oak bed a little nearer to the -fire and warmed blankets and wrapped Aline in them and laid her on the -bed. Gradually the shivering passed away, but she lay there looking -very white and shaken, with great black rings round her eyes, as if -they had been bruised. Her wounds caused her considerable pain. Audry, -who was a sweet hearted child but without the imaginative sympathy and -intense self-sacrifice of her little cousin, toiled up the stairs and -brought down some fresh linen. They then gently washed the wounds and -put clean oil upon them, Ian cursing himself all the while because of -his helplessness with his single hand, but able from many fighting -experiences to direct Audry in the manipulation of the bandages. - -“Is that more comfortable?” he asked when they had finished. - -“Yes,” she said smiling, “I feel ever so much better and I think that I -could go to sleep.” - -Audry then assisted Ian to bandage his ankle, and under his directions -also saw that the broken bone was all right. He then lay down on the -bed and Audry curled herself in a great chair and went to sleep. - -For Ian sleep was out of the question; and he lay there watching the -firelight dancing on the faces of the slumbering children, the one -beautiful with a robust health and well cut features and strongly built -limbs, finely proportioned throughout; the other beautiful entirely -beyond any ordinary beauty, with an extreme delicacy and subtlety -in every line of her face as he had already noticed in her figure, -yet never even suggesting the least touch of weakness. He had never -seen such hair, which seemed to cover the bed. Its rich deep colour -glowed with an extraordinary lustre and he noticed that her skin, -unlike that of most people with red hair, was absolutely clear and -marked by a strange translucent quality that was unique. One small -arm was lying out on the coverlet with the sleeve tucked up. He had -not realised before that a child’s arm could show so much variety of -form and modelled surface and yet retain the essential slenderness and -daintiness of childhood. She might well have been some fairy princess -sleeping among the flowers. - -Aline’s beauty undoubtedly had about it something supernatural. It was -all in keeping with her manner and character. There was an atmosphere -of another world about her of which every one who met her sooner or -later became aware. It could not be put into words and could not be -analysed. In a sense it was unnatural, but so far from repelling any -one it had about it a mysterious, almost magical fascination that was -irresistible. - -Only the basest natures failed to be drawn by it, and even in their -cases it was not that they did not feel it, but that they consciously -withstood it as a power with which their whole nature was at variance. - -Ian was devoutly glad that she was no worse and offered up a prayer -of thankfulness that she was at least safe. As he looked at her he -recalled her soft, not very pronounced, musical Scots accent, and -his thoughts turned to the land of his birth. Her face too!--why -had he not noticed it before, how strangely like it was in certain -aspects to the face of his dreams, that still followed him wherever -he went, although he had not seen it for thirteen years? He had, -however, reluctantly to admit that this mere child’s face was even more -beautiful. After all she too had really been only a child, although -rather more than a couple of years older than himself, when he had -worshipped her with all the fervour of a boy’s adoration and had -suddenly lost sight of her when her parents had unexpectedly taken her -away to be married. But the face had lived with him day and night, and -no other face had ever come between him and his vision. Nor had the -discovery long afterward,--that she had died soon after her child was -born, ever inclined him to look elsewhere. - -Aline moaned slightly and moved her head uneasily as though not quite -comfortable. He smoothed the pillow for her and registered a vow that -he would do all that he could to serve her, not only in return for what -she had done for him, but for the sake of the chance resemblance to -that one who had gone and who through all these years had meant so much -to him. - -And yet who was he to serve or to help any one?--a wanderer with a -price upon his head; and he began to turn over the events of the -last few years in his mind. All had promised so well with him and -yet everything had been adverse. He had early distinguished himself -both for his learning and his military skill, which drew down upon -him the envy of his brothers, particularly the eldest, when, as a -mere boy, he was one of the few who distinguished himself in the -unfortunate battle of Pinkey Cleugh and he had looked forward to some -recognition or advancement, but the jealousy of his brothers had made -that impossible. Then he had fallen under the influence of George -Wishart[10] and incurred the undying anger of his father, and so great -was the enmity of the family that finally he fled the country, first -to England and afterwards, at Mary’s accession, to France and then to -Italy, where he spent some years and followed first the calling of a -smith. There he not only learned about the making of arms but acquired -a considerable facility in the new art of swordsmanship as practised -in Italy. Nor were his fingers idle in other ways; he executed designs -first in metalwork and then in wood and other materials and became -an accomplished draughtsman besides exhibiting great creative power. -He might even have become one of the world’s great artists had not -circumstances directed his energies into other fields. - - [10] The great Scottish reformer and martyr. - -It was his brothers he knew who were behind his present trouble and it -cut him to the quick. He had no enmity to them. It was not his fault -that they had not distinguished themselves. For the sake of friendship -he would willingly have obliterated his achievements and have given up -everything to them; but of course that could not be, yet they would -not forget. He had been for the last month in prison and strong as he -undoubtedly still was, it was nothing to what he had been. Many a time -had his slight wiry frame astonished his comrades by its extraordinary -powers of endurance. - -He was lightly built and excellently proportioned, with rather broad -shoulders that particularly suited the costume of the day. He had -on more than one occasion sat for artists in Italy, including Paolo -Veronese himself, because of the exceptional beauty of his figure. - -His escape had been almost a miracle, as he had no friends in the -country and he had to think and carry on everything himself; he had -been nearly caught again twice and he had shuddered as he thought of -the fate of George Wishart whom he had himself seen strangled and burnt -at the stake. It was true that for the moment he was safe, but for how -long? He looked at the beautiful child and shuddered again. Suppose -he should in any way implicate her. The priests would have no more -pity upon her than upon himself. No, that he would not do. He would -die rather than that. Would it not be best for him to go away at once -rather than be a possible cause of injury to anything so gentle and -brave and fair? - -He rose up as the thought came to him; yes, he would go away; it should -never be said that he had brought calamity upon a child. He stumbled -across the floor and made his way down to the passage, but he had not -realised how weak he was. Hitherto he had been buoyed up by excitement; -now that that was over the pain was more than he could stand and he -fainted and fell heavily to the ground. - -When he again came to, he realised the impossibility of his getting -away down the long passage, and he also began to wonder whether after -all he might not be of more use if he stayed. He did not as yet know -who the child was; it was clear that she was Scots and did not belong -to the family of Holwick Hall; perhaps in the workings of Providence he -had been sent there to be of some use to her. He could at least wait -and find out a few things and then see what was best to be done. So he -crawled back to the room again and waited for the morning. - -To while away the time he took off his shoes to see that they were all -right. - -They were peculiarly made, with false inner soles of many thicknesses -of parchment, covered with oil silk and several layers of paint. - -These were the precious documents that had been purposely written in -that shape. The false soles were secured by stout canvas and thin -leather covers which formed part of the shoes. They could not be taken -out without cutting the shoes to pieces. - -As far as he could see they seemed to have sustained no damage in spite -of the wetting. - -There were three minute slits or peepholes in the corners and middle -of the room. These were evidently intended as lookout places and were -covered with small sliding shutters which he opened. The night seemed -almost interminable, but at length the dawn began to break. He waited -as long as he dared and then woke Audry. - -“Where am I?” she exclaimed; “oh, I remember. How are you and how is -Aline?” She rose as she spoke and went towards the sleeping figure. “I -suppose we ought to wake her,--Aline, dear, wake up.” - -Aline opened her eyes and gradually roused herself. She was certainly -better than on the previous night, but still obviously very ill. -However, there was nothing to be done but to get her upstairs somehow, -and then there was no alternative but to leave her in bed. - -The children looked at each other. “Whatever shall we say?” said Audry. - -“We must not say what is not true,” answered Aline. - -“No, but we cannot tell them everything.” - -“It is very difficult.” - -“Could you not say that you fell on a rock, Aline?” - -“That is not what I mean is difficult.” - -“I do not understand.” - -“I mean it is difficult to know how to speak the truth. Even if we do -not say what is untrue we let them think wrongly.” - -“Well, we cannot help that, Aline.” - -“I do not know, it seems to me that it comes to the same thing as if we -told them a falsehood.” - -“Oh, bother them; if they ask no questions they will get told no -stories.” - -Aline’s mind was not satisfied; but, after all their calamities, -fortune now favoured the children. There came a knock at the door -and Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, came in. “You are rather late this -morning,” she said, and then she noticed that Aline was still in bed, -“and one of you not up. Marry now, but it is a good thing for you -that Mistress Mowbray has other things to think of this morning. She -has just received an urgent letter from her sister at Appleby to say -that she has been taken sick, and will she come over without delay. -The serving man that brought the letter has only just now returned -homeward.” - -“What is the matter with Aunt Ann?” asked Audry. - -“Oh, it is nothing to fret yourself about, hinnie,” the old woman went -on, “but such an upset and turmoil in the house you never saw. Mistress -Mowbray is carrying he were to be staying there the rest of her life; -and Appleby only those few miles away too. Well, I must hurry away; I -have more to do than I can manage.” - -“Oh, nurse, can Aline stay in bed this morning? She is not very well; -she hurt herself a little yesterday. I will bring up her breakfast; it -is nothing serious.” - -“All right, dearie,--it’s nothing serious?” she repeated as she heard -Mistress Mowbray’s voice calling angrily from the bottom of the stairs. -“I am glad of that, but I must go,” and she departed. - -Aline had kept her face away so that Elspeth should not see how ill she -looked. The children were much relieved when they heard the footsteps -die away. - -In a way Aline’s illness even helped them, as it enabled Audry to take -up food without suspicion, and it was thus possible, owing to the -general confusion in the house, to lay in a small supply for the other -invalid below. - -The next morning Aline was considerably better, having the marvellous -recuperative power of childhood, but it was clear that she would not be -herself for some time. - -“You do look a sight, you know,” said Audry, throwing her arms round -her neck. “Your eyelids and all round the eyes up to the eyebrow are -still black. Whatever shall we do now, because nurse will certainly -come up to-day?” - -“She is a dear old thing and you can always get round her. I shall get -up and go down and stand with my back to the light and keep my head -low, and hope that no one will notice; then you must get nurse to let -us have a holiday and take our dinner with us on to the hills. We -can stay away till it is dark and then no one will see. I am ever so -much better to-day and shall be all right to-morrow. We need only go a -little way and it is a beautiful day, and I can lie in the sunshine. -I wonder how poor Master Menstrie is,” she went on. “I am afraid that -he will take a great deal longer to get well than I shall. You will of -course look after him.” - -Aline’s plan succeeded beyond expectation. Master Mowbray was in a -hurry, as he wanted to ride over to Appleby for a few days and Nurse -was busy with preparations. So Aline spent the long summer days on -the moors watching the great white clouds roll over the hills and -thinking of all that had happened in the last few days and the new -responsibilities that had fallen upon her. It was clear that it would -be a difficult matter to feed their guest, particularly as she was -determined not to take food from the house. Perhaps it was true as -Audry said, that people had no right to demand answers to any question -that they might choose to ask; but certainly that did not justify one -in taking what did not belong to one. She was just at the age when -the intelligence begins to arouse itself and face the great problems -of life and this was only one of the questions that stirred her young -mind. There was also the matter of the heretics and again Audry had in -her frank direct way supplied the answer of fair play and common sense. - -Aline made up her mind that she would ask Master Menstrie about some of -these things; at least, as Audry had said, there could be no harm in -hearing both sides and she must judge for herself. - -Audry went back after a while to see Master Menstrie; and Aline, when -she had been out on the moor for a long time, returned to the Hall as -the afternoon sun was getting low. Before going in, she sat down by the -moat and looked across at the grey pile. The water seemed to be shallow -at that point as though the bank had slipped in and yellow irises were -growing at the edge. - -Although the bulk of the building was little more than a hundred -years old, except the early pele tower that had been built into the -structure, time had laid its fingers upon it and it looked very mellow -in the afternoon sun. The stone shingles of the roof were covered -with golden lichen, while, behind the parapet of the little old -tower, a piece of ivy had taken root and hung down through one of the -crenellations trailing a splash of green over the grey wall. There was -a stern beauty about it and the long line of narrow oilettes in the -granary added to the somewhat fortress-like appearance. - -As she sat there she saw a small figure approaching; it was Joan. - -Aline beckoned to her and she came up shyly and Aline drew her down -to a seat at her side. “I am so glad to see you out again, Joan; I do -hope this is going to be a real lasting improvement,” she said, taking -a little wasted hand in one of her own and putting the fingers of her -other hand round the small wrist. “Why, there’s nothing there at all,” -she went on, blowing at the hand and letting it fall; “see how easily I -can blow it away; why, if I blew hard I should blow it off. You must be -quick and get stronger.” - -The little maid shook her head sadly. - -“And you mustn’t look so doleful either,” and Aline kissed her in the -corner of each eye which made Joan laugh. - -“There, that’s better; now you must forget yourself and I will tell you -a story.” - -At that moment Audry appeared on the scene. “Well, you are a pair, you -two,” she said, with a kindly sparkle in her merry brown eyes; “you -could not raise a spot of colour between you; but, Joan, it’s good to -see you out at all, in spite of your pale cheeks. How are you and what -did Master Barlow say?” - -“I do not think he knew what was the matter; but he said that I ought -to go away and see if other surroundings would help me. He was a kind -old man.” - -“We must see what we can do, Joan, when Master Mowbray comes back from -Appleby.” - -“I do not think it is good for either of you to be out in the evening -air,” said Audry. “Come along in, Aline.” - -“What is the matter with her, Mistress Audry?” said Joan. - -“Oh, nothing,” said Aline; “I shall be all right to-morrow, but I must -obey this tyrannous lady; good-bye, Joan.” - -Audry had had difficulties with her patient. Menstrie so far from -improving grew distinctly worse. His head was causing him great pain -and the want of sleep made him a wreck. She had no scruples about the -food like Aline, maintaining in her blunt way that it was the duty of -the house to be kind to the stranger and that, if the other people did -not do their duty, then she must do it for them whatever it involved. -But she was very glad that Aline had so much improved after a few days -as to be able to come and see the invalid with her. - -He was obviously in a high fever and was gradually getting delirious. -The old nurse took very little notice of them while her mistress was -away and they would slip out on to the moors and make their way back -to the secret room by the underground passage. As Aline grew strong -Ian’s illness laid a greater and greater hold upon him. Aline insisted -in sitting up with him the greater part of the night. There was not -a great deal that she could do; but she prepared a concoction from -a little yellow flowered plant that grew upon the moor and that was -deemed good for fevers and administered this at regular intervals. - -He spoke but rarely, but his eyes would follow her wherever she went. -When his head was exceptionally bad he would complain of the burning -and she would place wet cloths on his brow, or in fits of shivering she -would do all that she could to keep him warm. - -At length he seemed to take a distinct turn for the better. One night -after a violent perspiration she was trying to change the bedclothes -and make him more comfortable when he spoke to her quite clearly and -in a voice unlike the almost incoherent ramblings of the last few -days,--“What a wonderful little angel you are,” he said. - -“I could not do less,” she replied. - -“I see no reason why you should do anything at all; how long have you -been tending me like this?” - -“Audry has been attending you a great part of the time.” - -“Then I have been ill for a long while.” - -“Some little while,” she said, “but you are better now; I have been so -frightened that you would never get well any more.” - -“But that would not matter to you.” - -Aline laughed,--“Why then I should have had all my trouble for nothing.” - -“But it would have been simpler to have taken no trouble at all.” - -“Simpler, but how dull; do you know this is the most exciting thing -that has ever happened to me?” - -“A poor kind of excitement,” he said; “why, you are looking very ill -yourself; do not people notice it?” - -“Oh, yes, they say, ‘You are a little scarecrow.’” - -“Who say?” - -“Mistress Mowbray, she has come home again to-day.” - -“I did not know that she had gone away, but is that all that she says; -does she not suggest doing anything?” - -“Marry no, she only said, ‘Child, you have been eating too many good -things while I am away; you must not get ill; I have a great deal of -work for you to do. To-morrow you have to work hard after all this time -of idleness.’ Now you must not talk any more; it is a great thing to -hear you talk properly at all, and it would be foolish to let you make -yourself ill again.” - -He wanted her to go on; but again he saw that firm determined look in -her manner that he had noticed before and knew that it would be useless -to try and move her. “Well, little princess,” he said, “if those are -your commands I suppose that they must be obeyed.” - -“Certainly, sirrah, it is time that you went to sleep.” - -It was fortunate for the children that Menstrie’s illness took a turn -for the better when it did, for it would have been impossible for them -to give him much time after Mistress Mowbray’s return. But it was clear -that it would be a long time before he would be able to get about. - -They both came in on the following night and found that while there -was no doubt about the improvement, he was miserably weak and ill. -Aline tried to prevent him from talking, but he was anxious to hear how -things had gone with them. “Well, what have you been doing all day?” he -said. - -“We have been hemming great holland sheets,” said Aline. - -“Well, that is not very exciting,” he said. - -“More exciting perhaps than you think,” said Audry. “Mother was very -cross, and Aline certainly had an exciting time.” - -“Hush, Audry,” said Aline very softly. - -“I shall not hush, Aline. I wish that mother would not act like that to -you. Do you know,” she went on, “that whenever Aline made the stitches -just the least little bit too big or turned down the hem the least bit -too much or too little, she hit her. Aline, if I were you I would not -stand it; I would tell my father.” - -Ian half rose in his bed with anger and then fell back again. “There -you see what you have done,” said Aline, as Ian went as white as the -sheet. It was some moments before he was able to speak and the children -watched him anxiously. - -“What a shame,” he went on, in calmer tones. - -“Well, we won’t talk about that now,” said Aline; “let us talk of -something nicer. Master Mowbray is going to give me a falcon and I am -going to ride like Audry.” - -“I thought that I heard you say that you did not care about riding, -little one,” he said. - -“I do not know that I do particularly, but Master Mowbray wished it -for the sake of Audry. I do not think he cared about me one way or the -other. I thought that it might help us in several ways in feeding you.” - -“I am afraid I do not quite see that,” he said. - -“Well, for one thing, the falcon would have to be fed and sometimes -there would be things that I could give to you and I could get other -things for the falcon instead. I do not like taking things from the -house, and that is why I have tried as far as possible to snare you -rabbits or catch fish in the river. So far we have done very well, but -it is meal or bread that is the chief difficulty.” - -“And do you think the falcon or the horse is going to get the bread?” -he asked playfully. - -“If you were not ill,” she said, shaking her little hand at him, “I -would punish you.” - -He caught the hand and kissed it. “Well, never mind, but I do not see -how either the horse or the falcon is going to help you.” - -“It is this way. If we go riding it will be a reason for going -expeditions, and then we can make it an excuse to buy food. If I were -to go and buy food round about here, there would be all manner of -questions asked at once.” - -“But, child, you have not any money, and if you had it would not be -right to spend it on me.” - -“But I have some; I have five pounds Scots that my father gave me long -ago that I have been keeping in a safe place, and I have six florins -that have been given me by other people.” - -“You never told me that you were so rich,” said Audry. “Why, think what -you could buy for all that!” - -“Can you get down my jerkin, Audry?” asked Ian,--“Thank you! See if -you can find in the inner pocket a leathern purse?--That’s right, now -in that you will find ten gold rose angels. Take out two of them and -let me know all that is spent on my account. I would not hear of you -spending money on me.” - -Aline demurred, but Menstrie would brook no opposition. So there was -nothing to be done but take the money. After the children had gone Ian -began to consider his new responsibilities. He already began to feel -that Aline was in some way his special care. He had a peculiar power -of seeing both sides of things and realised that there was always -something to be said for each. But this never paralysed his action -as it does with many. He remembered the Athenian view of the sin of -neutrality and that the first duty is to make up one’s mind. - -In action he was usually able to find a line not neutral, that is to -say neither, but one that stood firmly and decisively for something -even beyond the best of both and this he would carry through at all -costs. He found this all the easier as his personality, his resolution -and clear explanations made him a born leader and he generally -compelled others to take his higher point of view. But this could not -always be the case and then he would take the side that on the whole -was the better. He had thrown in his lot with the protestant party, -not by any means because he entirely agreed with them,--he often told -them they were no better than those they opposed,--but he definitely -saw more prospect of progress in that direction. He had an iron will, -that is absolute self-control and the determined capacity that no -difficulties, no obstacles and no suffering could cause to swerve. -He was entirely free from the weakness of obstinacy, or of pleasing -himself. - -In more personal matters it was the same. At the present there were the -claims of his country, the claims of his faith and the claims of this -child. He loved children and nothing stirred him so much as to see a -child illtreated. - -How were these claims to be met? After all, were they so conflicting? -The only real problem was that Aline was in England, while his other -duties lay in Scotland. Clearly he must get her to Scotland. In whose -charge to place her, he could arrange later. That much then was settled. - -As he thought this, he distinctly heard a voice say,--“No, it is not.” -He looked behind, but saw no one. The voice continued,--“She will -become a heretic and then...?” - -“Who is there?” he cried, sitting up in bed. There was silence and he -heard no more, only he fancied he saw Wishart again in the fire and -Aline was along with him. “I am overwrought,” he muttered; “that is -impossible anyway, as poor Wishart died long ago. No, Aline,” he went -on, “as long as my life can stay it, such shall never be,--never. Where -there’s a will, there’s a way.” - -He leaned back exhausted and soon fell into a troubled sleep. He -remembered nothing when he woke, but found the sheet torn to shreds, as -though he had fought some malign enemy. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE THIEF - - -Not many days after, Aline went down to Peter’s cottage. Joan had again -had a relapse and the physician had paid one or two visits. For the -moment she was better and sitting up in bed. - -Aline had brought some beautiful roses whose fragrance filled the whole -place. Joan’s eyes quite sparkled with pleasure. - -“Oh, Mistress Aline, how lovely!” - -“I said you were to call me Aline, just as I call you Joan,” and Aline -kissed the little thin hand that seemed almost transparent. “Now you -must soon get well and be able to come and play games again; and see -what I brought you to wear when you can run about.” - -Aline’s own wardrobe was very scanty, but one day Master Richard had -brought back from York a piece of good camlet which he had given to -Aline as a special present. “May I do just what I like with it?” she -had asked. “Of course,” he replied. So Aline had coaxed Elspeth to help -her, and, with much excitement, had made Joan an attractive little -gown. Aline was rather at a loss for some trimming that she wanted and -Audry had found her one day taking some off one of her own garments. -She had expostulated but Aline had only said,--“Oh, it looks all right; -I have left some on the upper part. I do not mind plain things.” - -Joan’s gratitude was too great for words; she could only gently squeeze -Aline’s hand. - -As Aline sat by the bedside the door opened and a dark bent figure -appeared against the light. - -“Good-day, Peter,” she said, and catching sight of Aline she added, -“and good-day to you, Mistress.” - -Moll had once been a fairly tall woman, but like Peter was now bent, -although not to so great an extent and was never seen without her -stick. Her face, wrinkled and worn as it was, more from evil living -than from actual age, as she was not really very old, still had some -trace of its original beauty, but there was a cruelty and cunning -in its expression that defied description. All the children were -frightened of “Moll o’ the graves” and would flee at her approach. - -“You have a sick bairn here, Peter,” she began, ignoring Aline, “and I -have been wondering whether I could not help you.” - -Peter looked as if the last thing in the world that he desired was old -Moll’s help. - -“You have something laid by under this stone,” she went on, tapping the -hearth with her stick as she spoke; and Peter’s eyes seemed as if they -would drop out of his head. - -“Ah, you need not think to keep anything from me,” said the old crone; -and suddenly turning round, she pointed her stick at Aline, “nor you, -young Mistress, you have your secret that you wish no one to know,” she -added vindictively. - -It might have been merely a bow drawn at a venture, yet Aline felt -absolutely terrified of the old woman and meditated running from the -house, but the thought of Joan held her back. “No, and you need not -think you can get away either,” said Moll, as though reading her -thoughts. “You are by yourself this time,” and she interposed her gaunt -figure between Aline and the door. - -“Come, Peter,” she said, “what will you be giving me, or shall I lay a -murrain on your sheep?” - -“I’ll give you three silver crowns.” - -“Ha! ha! ha!--three silver crowns for a child’s life,” and, dropping -her stick and holding out her skinny hands like the claws of some -obscene bird, she began slowly to shuffle over the floor toward Peter, -who stood rooted to the spot quaking in mortal fear. - -Nearer and nearer the old hag drew toward him, scraping her bare -shrivelled feet over the floor. - -Peter sank on his knees and crossed himself. “God’s blood,” he said, “I -will give you what you ask.” - -“Then give me twenty crowns,” she said, and waving her arms over the -fire the flames turned blue and shot up as though to lick her hands. - -She then opened a small pouch at her girdle and taking a pinch from -it threw it on the fire and a thick cloud of white smoke ascended and -filled the room with a pungent odour and then circled round the room in -fantastic shapes. - -“In the smoke, in the clouds, I see the future writ,” she said; “I see -three children and their fates are intertwined. Ah, the first passeth, -the second passeth, the third remaineth. I see a great treasure. I see -trouble. I see joy and a great darkness.” Then turning to Peter she -said: “Keep your crowns this time; I can do nothing; the child must -go,” and she laughed a low cruel laugh,--“and your fate,” she said, -turning to Aline with a diabolic grin, “is like unto hers; but your -path is through the fire; yet there is joy and prosperity after strange -days for your little friend up at the Hall.” She laughed again, a blood -curdling fiendish chuckle, and grasping her staff she hobbled to the -door and was gone so swiftly that they could hardly believe their eyes. - -Poor little Joan had fallen back senseless and it was some time before -Aline could bring her round. Was the old harridan deliberately trying -to frighten the child to death or could she really in some way foretell -the future? - -The effect in any case was extraordinary and Aline had to pull herself -together before she felt equal to the walk home. - -“What does she mean by my path is through the fire?” she asked Audry, -when she met her in the courtyard. - -“Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it. Aline, you terrify me.” - -“I do hope she has not done Joan any serious harm anyway,” said Aline. -“But come, we must get ready for supper.” - -Late in the evening as the family was seated in the great hall and the -servants had retired, just as the children were going to bed, Richard -Mowbray came in from going round the house as his custom was to see if -everything was all right. He seemed to be in a very irritable mood and -Mistress Mowbray asked him what was the matter. - -“Matter, Eleanor,” he said, “you know very well I am worrying about -that cup. It’s the third thing that has disappeared this month and -I seem to be no nearer finding out than we were before. I am fairly -certain too that money has gone the same way. Beshrew me but I would -give a goodly sum to find the knave.” - -“I think you might keep your discussions for another time,” said his -wife icily, glancing at Aline as she spoke; “we do not want our affairs -discussed by every stranger.” - -“There are no strangers here, woman,” he said. “The child is a Mowbray -which is more than you are yourself; her great grandmother was my -grandfather’s only sister. Old James Mowbray who built this house loved -her more than his son and if the old man had had his way, it is likely -enough that the lassie would be the Mistress of Holwick. Woman, you are -too jealous. The child shall always have a roof to her head as long as -I am Master of Holwick.” - -Master Mowbray was not particularly fond of Aline, although he was -beginning to fall under her spell, but he had a sort of rough sense -of justice, which was quite inexplicable to his wife; a trait of his -character that had descended in a marked degree to his little daughter. - -“Anyway it is time for the children to go to bed,” said Mistress -Mowbray. “Run along, both of you, and, mind you, not a word of what you -heard just now.” - -The children went upstairs and naturally could not help discussing -between themselves what Richard Mowbray had been saying. “I should like -to help Master Mowbray,” said Aline. “It seemed to upset him very much.” - -“We wanted some excitement, Aline,” said Audry, “and now we seem to -have more than enough, what with a heretic and a thief. I wonder what -Father would do for us if we could find the thief for him.” - -Consequently for the next few days the children were on the alert to -see if they could discover anything. When they went down to visit Ian -they told him the story and the three discussed it together. - -“Anyway it does not matter telling you,” said Aline to Ian, “because -you are not a real person.” - -“And why am I not a real person, pray?” said Ian. - -“Oh, you do not belong to the world at all; you never see anybody and -live down here; you are only a sort of figure in our dream,” said Aline -playfully. - -“That’s rather a shadowy kind of existence,” he said, “but it’s nice to -be dreamed into existence by such delightful people.” - -“Look here, you two,” said Audry, “talk a little common sense. What are -we going to do about this thief?” - -“I think it must be some one in the house,” Aline remarked. “I do not -think any one could get over the moat.” - -“People like this lady would think nothing of swimming the moat,” said -Ian. - -“People like this lady would not do anything of the kind,” said Aline; -“they could not even get out of the water on the inner side at all, as -it is a perfectly straight wall all round, and even if they did, they -would go drip, drip, drip, wherever they went and we have seen nothing -like that.” - -“They could take off their clothes,” objected Audry. - -“Yes, and if they were disturbed,” Aline continued, “and had to escape -in a hurry, I suppose they would not think they looked a little -conspicuous and suspicious, eh?” - -“Where is the silver kept?” asked Ian. - -“Most of it,” said Audry, “is kept in the treasury, the little room -near the gateway where the secret passage goes. I expect that is partly -the reason for the passage; so that if the owner ever had to flee from -the house in time of danger, he would come back and get his valuables -without risk; but what an opportunity a thief would have who knew of -the passage!” - -Aline knit her brows and thought for some time. Menstrie, who was -very clever with his chalk, was making sketches of her. “What a very -thoughtful lady!” he said. - -“Oh, is not that beautiful?” exclaimed Audry. “It is as beautiful -as you are, Aline dear. Where did you learn about drawing, Master -Menstrie?” - -It was a charming little head with bold free lines and full of -expression, very like an Andrea del Sarto. - -“Oh, when I was in Florence and Venice,” said Ian; “it was a great -time for me and I learned many things that it would have been almost -impossible to learn over here. I was lucky enough to get to know -both Paolo Veronese and Tintoretto as they called him, but I like -the Florentine work better still. I often think I might have been an -artist, but I have too many other responsibilities.” - -Aline looked up at this point. “Yes, that is wonderful. Father was very -fond of drawing and had several friends who were artists. There was -Master Lindsay, who did a beautiful portrait of mother, but do you know -I do not believe he could have drawn as well as that; it is so bold and -free and yet sensitive and delicate in its details. His work was much -more cramped and over-elaborated. No,” she said, holding the drawing at -arm’s length, “I am sure he could not have done it nearly so well.” - -“Well, never mind about the drawing,” said Menstrie; “what were you -thinking about?” - -“I was thinking that the theft could not very well have taken place at -night. If it had, probably many more things would have gone. But some -one may have slipped into the little room for a moment when the old -seneschal’s back was turned. We might go along and find out when Edward -is there, whether we can hear and know what goes on from the secret -passage.” - -“It is just about now that Edward fetches the silver,” said Audry. - -“Come along then.” - -So the two children jumped up and ran to the door. “Good-bye,” said -Aline, waving her hand, “wish us luck.” - -Ian watched them go and then fell into a reverie. What a strange thing -it was that chance should have brought him to Holwick! He looked at -the drawing which was still on his knee. “Leonardo would have given -something to draw her head,” he mused. “But neither he nor Raphael -could have done it justice. Yes, she is like her, very like, and yet -more beautiful. Who could have believed that any one could be more -beautiful? This child’s father must have been handsome as she says. -I wonder in what way I am to be of service to her. It’s a pity that -she is of the old faith. Somehow I feel that that is going to be a -difficulty. I should find it very hard to get any assistance if it were -needed. The other side would not look at me and my side would not look -at her. I wonder if they would even help me myself,” he pondered. -“I do not hold with most of them by any means. I fancy that child’s -father would have been more to my liking. How narrow and unkind they -all are. Think of a Catholic like Sir Thomas More, a very saint of a -man, coming to the block. Will nothing ever soften men’s hearts? John -Knox is all very well, but he’s dour. No, John, my friend, Plato was -quite right; if you do not understand beauty you will have to serve a -little apprenticeship before St. Peter will open the gates. Harmony not -strife,--the Beauty of Holiness,--think of it, Master John, think of -it! With what humility and yet with what ecstasy we shall worship in -that presence. - -“Ah, child,” he went on, “you are indeed the handiwork of God and, as -Plato says, I do pass through you to something more.” - -As he spoke the vision of the child seemed to shape itself before his -eyes. Her little feet were bare as when he saw her first and she was -stretching out her beautiful arms toward him. Her face shone with a -strange light and then gradually he felt himself lifted up and the -vision changed, becoming more ethereal and more beautiful, till his -heart stood still. It was no longer a child, it was no longer even -human beauty at all. It was altogether transcendent. - -He rose slowly and then knelt down. “Now I know,” he said, “this is the -heart’s adoration, this is worship. I never knew before.” He bowed down -utterly humbled and yet at the same time exalted and a voice seemed to -say,--“I am that I am.” He felt as one who is purified as in a fire and -then gradually a sense of peace stole over him. - -He knelt there in a rapture for a long time until at length the vision -faded slowly away. But he realised that in some strange fashion new -strength had been given to him and that the temptations of life were -shrinking into littleness. - -Meanwhile Aline and Audry made their way along the passage. It was -daylight so they felt that their light would not be seen. When they got -to the end they could hear perfectly and even see a little bit through -a tiny crack. They saw Edward, the seneschal, come in and take out the -great salt and the nef and then he carefully fastened the door. After a -while he came back and fetched some of the other things. - -When the children returned to Ian, they both exclaimed,--“Oh, you are -looking so much better.” - -For a moment he did not speak; he was watching Aline as she -unconsciously glided down the room with a sort of dancing step, humming -a tune and slowly waving her arms. She seemed filled with a new -sacredness, a new unapproachable otherworldliness; it was an apotheosis -of childhood. - -“Well, you have come back to me,” he said at length. “What did you -discover?” - -“Not a great deal,” Aline answered, “but we can see through a chink and -we may some day see the thief himself.” - -“I am afraid that we shall never catch him,” said Audry, “and what is -the use of troubling about it? The thing is gone now and what is done -is done.” - -“No, it might come back,” protested Aline, “and I shall not give up -hope yet awhile. Come along, you have got to finish that piece of -tapestry and it’s no use saying what is done is done, because what is -done is no use, unless you do some more.” - -Both laughed and ran out. - -They worked at the tapestry in the solar. Mistress Mowbray was there -engaged in the same occupation. By and by her husband came in. “I -suppose you have found out nothing about that cup,” she remarked. - -“No,” said Master Richard, “and meseemeth I am not likely to do so. -Edward is confident that it cannot have been taken from the treasury.” - -“Humph! He may say so. Look you now, Richard, if I were you I should -get rid of Edward. Turn him out of doors.” - -“Do you think that Edward has taken it?” said her husband, looking -surprised. - -“Why, who else could have taken it? It’s as clear as daylight. I cannot -see wherefore you hesitate.” - -Richard Mowbray gazed steadily in front of him for a long time, -stroking his pointed beard. “Yes, I think it must be so; I shall do as -you suggest. Edward shall leave.” - -“I am sure Edward did not do it,” said Audry impulsively. - -“Nonsense, wench,” said her father, “what do you know about it?” - -“Oh, well, it has nothing to do with me, but it’s hard on the old man -if he did not do it,” Audry replied. “Come along, Aline; I’m tired of -this tapestry; we’ve done enough. I want you to read to me. May we go, -mother?” - -“Yes, yes, run away, both of you”; and, lest Audry’s remark should have -had any effect, she added, to her husband;--“It will be an excellent -plan in many ways. Edward is getting past his work in any case. I shall -be very glad to have some one else.” - -“Certainly, Eleanor, it shall be as you wish.” - -Audry had run on. Aline had risen and stood irresolutely looking at the -Master of Holwick. “But, Cousin Richard, you will wait a bit, won’t -you?” she said coaxingly. - -“Why, child?” - -“Because it might not be Edward, and, probable as it seems, you cannot -be certain.” She rose and put her arm round him and in her most -bewitching way added,--“You will think it over, won’t you? I know I -am only a little girl, but what would you think, Cousin Richard, if -afterwards it turned out that you were wrong?” - -“Aline,” shouted Mistress Mowbray, “I will not have you interfering. -Edward shall leave at once. We cannot have a thief in the house.” - -“It isn’t just, Mistress Mowbray. You do not know that he is a thief; -you have no proof.” - -“Wench, I can dismiss my servants when I please, thieves or not -thieves.” - -In addition to the claims of justice Aline felt a definite feeling of -antagonism rising in her, a touch of the fighting instinct. “Of course -you can do as you please,” she said, “but that does not make it fair.” - -“I tell you Edward shall go; he is getting too old and that is enough -reason.” - -“Richard,” she continued, “am I mistress of this house or is that -skelpie? The man is only a servant and I can treat him as I like. I am -within my rights.” - -Aline could not resist going on, yet she hated the whole thing; she -felt that her attitude was unbecoming, if not impertinent; but she -could not let Edward go without a struggle, nor could she abandon a -fight which she had once begun; that was not human nature. “You may be -within your rights,” she said, “and he may be only a servant; but that -is just it;--if you belonged to the servant class yourself that sort of -reason might be enough, but ‘noblesse oblige’ as father used to tell -me. That is so, is it not, Cousin Richard? and we must investigate the -case before Edward is sent away.” - -Eleanor Mowbray flushed crimson; Aline had found the weak spot in her -armour. The vintner’s daughter was not a lady, but the one thing in -life that she desired was to be thought one. - -“Yes, child,” said Master Richard, for the remark had touched his -proper pride. “Yes, keeping within his rights is good enough for -common people. But gentle blood demands more than rights. It has -higher standards altogether. It is a matter of honour, not of rights. -Many things are right but they are not honourable. The churl does not -know the meaning of honour. By my troth, lassie, you remind me of my -mother’s father, the Duke of Morpeth, who used to say that aristocracy -was the pride of humility, the pride that could not be demeaned by -humbling itself, the pride that could not lower itself by standing on -its rights. Our Lord, he used to say, was the noblest knight and the -first gentleman of chivalry. Ah, little maid,” he went on, “you must -forgive me my reminiscences; the serious things of life cannot be left -out.” - -“No, Cousin Richard, I’m listening.” - -“I remember,” he continued, “how he used to quote ‘He that sweareth to -his own hurt and changeth not shall never be moved,’--‘qui facit haec -non movebitur in aeternum.’ That was his illustration of the principle -in practice; the vulgar man sticks to his bargain or his promise; the -gentleman goes entirely beyond his promise and does what is expected -of him, whether he had given his word or not. The vulgar man tries to -wriggle out of an engagement if it does not suit him; the gentleman -stands to the most trivial engagement, even if there is no formal -promise, though it may cost him much sacrifice. Honour compels him, -‘noblesse oblige.’ The man of poor blood has no honour; he merely has -honesty and he thinks the gentleman is a fool. He has not climbed high -enough to see. - -“You are right, little one; there would be nothing wrong in dismissing -Edward; we have no promise, no contract: we may even act to our own -hurt by keeping him, if he really should be the thief, but honour -demands it. The matter shall be thoroughly investigated before we do -anything with Edward.” - -Aline having gained her point ran away. She had not intended at first -definitely to withstand Mistress Mowbray. However, Master Richard had -agreed with her and she dismissed the matter from her mind. - -Not so Mistress Mowbray. She was mortified and she was not going to -forget it. Besides the child had committed the unpardonable sin of -showing that she was a lady and making it equally clear that she, -Eleanor Mowbray, belonged to a lower class. Mistress Mowbray was -learning her lesson. - -Day after day the children used to go at the proper hour and once or -twice Edward did leave the door unlocked for a few moments; but they -never saw any one come in and finally began to lose heart and feel that -they must give it up as hopeless. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -BITTERNESS - - -Ian was alone in the secret room. He had been busy writing and a great -pile of papers lay before him. He was tired and felt he could write -no more, so he picked up some sketches he had made of the children. -They would often come down and sit for him and he had gathered quite -a collection. What a wonderful pair they were. Audry was the easier -to draw. She was not quite so tantalisingly subtle with her laughing -brown eyes and roguish lips. The face was clearly cut, with decided -character, from the well defined brows and the strongly marked forms -about the eyes down to the firm determined little chin. “Were it not -for a certain pair of faces,” he said, “that haunt me day and night -I should have said that there could not be anything more beautiful.” -He then turned to the sketches of Aline and put them aside one by -one impatiently;--why could he not catch the elusive swing of those -graceful poses? It was no use; they were unattainable. He was looking -discontentedly at a sketch of her face and wondering whether any one -could ever draw the infinite variation in the finely modelled form of -Aline’s mobile lips, when Audry came in. - -He put the drawing down by the papers on the table. - -“Writing again,” said Audry; “you are always writing. I cannot think -what it is all for.” - -“One must be doing something,” he answered. - -She hardly seemed to heed his reply. “It is nice to have some one to -come to,” she said; “everything is all wrong just now.” - -“What is the matter, dear?” he asked, noticing that the child had been -crying. - -“Oh, I have such a tale to tell you about Aline. You know that mother -thought that the thief was Edward, and father has been spending ever so -much time and trouble over it and has practically proved that it could -not be Edward; because, though Edward may have taken the cup, there -was some money that went one day when Edward was away from Holwick. So -mother must needs get it into her head that it was Aline.” - -“How utterly ridiculous!” said Ian. - -“Yes, and at first I do not think she really thought so; it was only -because she does not like Aline and is particularly angry with her -just now, because it was Aline who was the cause of her being shown -up as wrong about Edward; and----and,” the child went on sobbing as -she spoke,--“it was partly my fault. Mother knows I love Aline and I -was rude to her the other day and she knows it punishes me more than -anything else for her to be unkind to Aline”; and here Audry quite -broke down. - -“Do not cry, dear child,” said Ian, stroking her thick brown locks. -“Come, tell me all about it and we’ll make a nice plan to put things -right for Aline.” - -Audry and her mother never got on very well together. Both were -headstrong and impulsive, but whereas Audry’s nature was generous and -kind, the lady of Holwick was a hard selfish woman. She loved her -daughter in her selfish way, but power was her one desire, and she -wanted entirely to dictate the course of her life for her; and even in -the things of little importance was apt to be tyrannical. Aline had -become a cause of much contention between them, and Eleanor Mowbray -had now added to her natural dislike of Aline a desire to spite her -daughter by ill-treating her little friend. - -“Well, you know that Aline is in the habit of taking things to the -sick people round about,” Audry went on, when her grief had a little -subsided, “and old Elspeth generally acts as almoner. Mother, however, -has interfered lately, and has said that she will not allow it without -her permission and that, she will hardly ever give,--never, for the -people that Aline most cares about. So Aline has been buying things -with her own money and you know she has not much.” - -“No, poor child, it must be very sad for her.” - -“Indeed it is, Master Menstrie, but what has happened is sadder still. -I met her coming back from the Arnsides yesterday, and some one must -have told mother that she had been there; for mother said I was to tell -Aline to go and speak to her directly she came back. I warned her how -angry mother was and Aline asked me what it was all about. I said that -I was not absolutely certain, but that I thought it was because she -imagined that Aline had been taking things from the Hall. I went with -her to see mother,” Audry went on, “and I never saw mother so furious, -and you know how angry she can be.” - -“I cannot say that I do,” said Ian, “I have never even seen her.” - -“Well, anyway, she was purple with wrath and would not allow Aline to -say a word,--‘What do you mean, you dirty little thief,’ she said, -‘taking things that do not belong to you and giving them to your -good-for-nothing friends, you little beggar-brat, you? Here you are -living on charity and you must needs steal things from under our very -noses.’ - -“When she paused to take breath, Aline told her that she had bought the -things with her own money. But that only made mother more angry than -ever. ‘What, you dare to lie to me, money indeed, what money have you, -you miserable child of a penniless wastrel? Your father was never more -than a petty laird at the best and he had not even the sense to keep -the little he had. If you have any money we all know where you got it. -No wonder you were so certain that Edward had not taken it,’ she said -with a sneer. - -“Aline drew herself up in that stately way that she has. She took no -notice of what mother said about her being a thief, but answered;--‘My -father was a gentleman, your father did not bear arms. You may call me -what you like, but I will not have my father spoken of like that.’” - -“Dear little princess,” said Ian. - -“Mother nearly choked with rage and almost screamed; ‘You insolent -hussie, he was a wretched good for nothing ne’er do weel, or he would -not have left you unprovided for.’ - -“Then for the first time in my life I saw Aline lose her temper. It -was not like mother at all, but a sort of unnatural calm. She turned -as white as chalk and said very slowly and softly, almost hissing the -words;-‘Woman, you are not fit to have cleaned father’s shoon. Leave -the dead alone.’ - -“Mother rushed at her, calling her thief and liar, and I tried to stop -her, but she hit me and sent me down full length upon the floor. She -snatched up a heavy riding strop and beat Aline furiously with it. I -implored her to stop but she only hit out at me. I think she was out of -her mind with passion. - -“Oh, I am so unhappy. I try to love mother and it is so difficult. I -wish that I had never been born.” - -Ian did his best to comfort the child and after a time she calmed down -and said that she would go and find Aline. - -When she had gone Ian paced rapidly up and down the room, going over -the miserable story in his mind. Certainly there was one good thing in -his not escaping the first night as he had intended; he was at least -here to try and make plans with her to help her, but how was it to be -done? The more he thought the more hopeless he became. Delighted, as -he knew his mother would be to look after the child, he knew that as -long as his father lived it was impossible; he would find out who had -sent her and turn her out of the house or worse than ever--and Ian -felt his flesh creep--his father might think that she was a heretic -too and then.... Again the vision of Aline burning in the flames rose -vividly and distinctly before him, as though it were an actual sight. -Ian groaned in agony. “O Lord,” he cried, “not that, not that!” He was -nearly beside himself; but as the vision passed away he grew calmer. He -still walked rapidly to and fro, however, and clenched and unclenched -his hands till the nails dug into the flesh. Here was this sweet -child, the sweetest thing that he had ever seen in his life, for whom -he was ready to do anything,--he was perfectly willing to suffer all -things for her, he was willing to die for her if need be, not only to -save her life, but even to make her happy, if he could make sure of -it,--and yet, here he was, absolutely unable to do anything at all, not -even to save her from one jealous woman. It was pitiable, it was almost -ludicrous; he who had escaped the forces of the inquisition and the -united endeavours of the whole countryside, to be foiled in this way by -one woman. - -Then he clenched his teeth. No. There must be a way and he must find -it: “And if there is not one,” he said, bringing his fist down on the -top of a chair with a crash, “I will make one.” The chair broke under -the blow. “Exactly so,” he said; “if they will not yield they shall -break.” - -After a time Audry returned with Aline. The child did her best to be -cheerful, but it was obviously impossible; so Ian thought that it would -be best for her to relieve her feelings by talking about it, if she -could not put the subject away from her mind altogether. - -“Everything sad seems to have happened all at once,” she said. -“Mistress Mowbray said such dreadful things about father and now she -has been telling every one that I am a thief and poor little Joan does -not seem able to get over the effects of Moll’s visit.” - -“You mustn’t pay too much attention to what mother says,” Audry said -softly. “She loses her temper just as I do and I do not think that she -really meant anything that she said about Captain Gillespie. It was -only that she was so angry.” - -“Well, that is what I minded most, at least at the time. After all, -poor father has gone and it does not really matter to him now what she -says, and it does matter to me when people think that I am a thief. -Every one seemed to be staring at me as I passed to-day.” - -“I think that must be mainly your imagination, little one,” said Ian, -toying with a tress of the wonderful hair. “No one who really knew -you could believe it for a moment, and the other people do not really -matter, do they?” - -Aline was a little bit consoled, but she said rather pitifully,--“All -the same I wish we could find out the thief.” Then a fresh cloud seemed -to gather and she went on; “Do you think that ‘Moll o’ the graves’ -really can tell the future? She said that little Joan and I were going -to die,--and what did she mean when she said that my path was through -the fire?” - -Ian shivered and caught his breath as he thought of his vision, but he -spoke as calmly as he could. “Oh, one cannot say; I am afraid that the -awful old witch is trying to frighten the child to death.” - -“Yes,” said Audry, “they say that she and Joan’s mother, Sarah Moulton, -had a terrible quarrel about something and many people think that it -was old Moll who terrified her into her grave and that she wants for -some reason to do the same with the child.” - -“The best thing,” said Ian, “is to take no notice of her. We must not -give way to superstition. It is only by allowing her to frighten us -that she can really do anything. What were you going to tell us about -Joan, Aline?” - -“Well, she just seems to get weaker and weaker. I met Master Barlow -to-day, who had come over again from Barnard Castle to see her and I -said, ‘Of a truth, what is the matter with Joan?’ and he replied, ‘I -do not know what is wrong with her, little maid; but I fear she has no -chance in that abode.’ - -“So I feared greatly and asked him what might be done and I told him -what Master Richard had said about sending her to Barnard Castle. That, -he said, was good, but he would suggest better. He knew a very learned -physician in Durham and also a good woman who would house the child if -Master Mowbray would be at the expense of sending her, it being a far -cry, nigh upon forty mile. Yet he did not hold out much hope even then.” - -“Oh, I am sure father will do that,” said Audry, “and then you will see -little Joan coming back well and strong. Come, what you want is a run -in the fresh air.” - -“I want to go down to Janet Arnside’s again, so I will go now.” - -The children left the room and climbed the secret stair. On their way -out they turned along beside the moat, which always had a certain -fascination for Aline. There were now king-cups and bog myrtle growing -on the outer bank, where the part of the wall had broken away, and -sheltered from the wind on the south side, water lilies were floating -in the dark water. It was a still, lovely day and the beautiful walls -and windows of the old Hall were perfectly reflected in the wide -expanse of the black mirror, where also could be seen the clear blue of -the sky and the great cumulus-clouds. - -“I love this old moat,” said Aline. - -“I cannot say that I do; yet I am unable to say why, but I always think -it looks cruel and I feel that something terrible might happen in that -deep water, some unsolved mystery, I do not know what it is.” - -“Yes, I see what you mean, but at the same time it looks kindly and -protecting as it goes round the house; it might be cruel, but somehow I -feel too that it might be kind.” - -“Well, I must go and darn my hose,” said Audry, “and you said you -wanted to go down and see Janet Arnside and her boy.” - -Audry picked up a large stone as she went, and threw it into the water; -it fell with a heavy sullen splash and the sound echoed back from the -walls. Aline stood a moment and watched the widening rings till they -gradually died away, and then turned down toward the hamlet. - -[Illustration: THE HALL FROM N. W. SHOWING PELE-TOWER GRANARY AND -LEDGE] - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -DEATH - - -Janet Arnside was a widow and lived in a small cottage not far from the -Hall. She had a son who had been very ill; and Aline had been in the -habit of coaxing Elspeth to get her small delicacies to take round to -them as they were very poor, or she would buy things with her own money. - -When she reached the cottage the old woman came forward and seized her -by both hands. “Bless your bonnie face,” she said, “I am glad to see -you.” - -“How is John getting on?” said Aline. - -“Oh, he’s quite a new creature, thanks to all you have done for us, -my dear. When I see him swinging along with great strides I say to -myself,--now if it had not been for our little St. Aline where would my -boy have been?” - -“Oh, you must not thank me, Janet, and I really do not like you to call -me that, you must thank Elspeth and Master Mowbray.” - -“Ay, true, hinnie, the Master has been very good and has always said -that we were welcome to a few things, but, there now, when I asked -Mistress Mowbray, she said that she had something else to think of than -attend to any gaberlunzie body that came round the doors. And where -should I have been with my laddie if it had not been for you with your -sweet face and your kind heart?” - -Even Janet Arnside realised that Aline’s was no ordinary beauty as -she watched the lightfooted graceful child moving round her room and -setting things straight, or helping her to cook for her sick boy, or -sitting, as she was then, with the sunshine coming through the open -door and throwing up the outline of her beautiful form against the dark -shadows within the cottage. - -“Ah, but Mistress Mowbray is very busy, Janet, she has a great deal to -manage in that huge place. It is Elspeth, dear old Elspeth, who looks -after all the sick folk and you should try and go up and thank her, now -that your son is better and you are able to leave him.” - -“Ay, Mistress Aline, that should she,” said a voice from the door -as John entered, “but it is our little mistress here that should be -getting most of the thanks, I trow.” The boy pushed back the little -window shutter as he spoke that he might the better see the child. She -was for him his conception of the heavenly angels and during his long -illness he used in his delirium to confuse her with the messengers -from above who were to take him to the other land. He had been ill for -a weary while and had had more than one relapse but she had been a -constant visitor when opportunity allowed, and had often soothed him -to sleep when even his mother could do nothing. He worshipped Aline in -a curious half-fatherly way, although he was only some four years her -senior, and the dream of his life at that time was to be of assistance -to her some day. - -Aline was just on the point of going when they heard rough angry voices -passing along the road, so she shrank back into the shadowy recesses -of the cottage;--“I tell you what it is,” one of the voices was saying, -“if you do not help me I’ll see that you never forget it.” - -“Now, there you are again,” the other voice replied, “you never can -keep a civil tongue in your head.” - -“Why that is Andrew Woolridge and Thomas Carluke,” Aline exclaimed. -“What are they doing down here?” - -Andrew and Thomas were two of the men from the Hall and Aline knew that -at this time of day they ought to be at work. - -“They are up to no good I’ll be bound,” said Janet. - -“Andrew Woolridge seems to be doing a good thing for himself somehow, -mother,” said John. “I wonder where he got all that meal he has been -bringing home from the mill lately; I saw him with a boll early this -morn and he brought two bolls yesterday and two the day before.” - -“Ay, John, and I saw him the day before that with a boll.” - -“He must have enough for the winter and some to sell too, if he has -been going on at that rate, mother.” - -“Ay, that must be, but I should not like to be the one to ask him where -he got the oats he has been so busy carrying to the mill.” - -“It is time I was going,” said Aline, and bidding them good-bye, she -turned homeward, pondering on her way what she had heard. - -“I fancy that the oats will come from Holwick,” she thought to herself. -“I wonder if he is still taking them,” and she resolved that she would -herself keep an eye on Andrew and Thomas. - -She had not long to wait. That very evening she managed to slip out -near the granary at dusk when the outside servants went home. Thomas -slept in the hall, but she saw him going to the gate and talking to -Andrew very quietly. - -The moat ran round the east side of the Hall, but there was a narrow -ledge of stone at the foot of the wall on that side, some eight feet -above the water, which went from the northeast corner where the granary -was, as far as the drawbridge. It was possible to climb on to it from -the drawbridge and walk along it with some difficulty. What purpose it -was intended to serve was not clear. The drawbridge was never drawn up -till the last of the servants had departed. Andrew went outside, but -dark as it was, Aline without coming near, saw that apparently he did -not cross the bridge. Thomas ran back and made his way to the granary. -Aline followed, her heart beating violently, and saw him produce a key -and unlock the granary door. She waited a moment wondering which would -be the best thing to do and then decided to go back to the drawbridge. -She turned round and was just in time to see the dark figure of Andrew -emerge from the left and cross the bridge with a heavy bundle on his -shoulder and vanish into the night. It was all very quietly managed, -he had evidently crept along the high ledge, and as Aline passed -through the archway to the upper quadrangle she heard Thomas behind her -breathing heavily, but she did not look round. - -At first she thought that she would go and tell Master Mowbray at once, -but then she hesitated. In those days it might be a hanging matter -for Andrew and she also had some scruples about playing the part of -an eavesdropper. She finally decided that she would speak to Andrew -herself, but was very nervous about it; as Andrew was a great big man -and from what she knew of him and from the way she had heard him speak -to Thomas on the previous night, she guessed that he would stop at -nothing. - -She watched for him the next day, but no opportunity presented itself. -He was always with the other servants. But late in the evening she saw -him in the quadrangle evidently waiting for Thomas. She was shaking -with excitement and the darkness added to her nervousness, but she -approached him and said in as steady a voice as she could muster, -“Andrew, I want to speak to you. It is something very serious; there -has been grain taken from the granary.” - -“What of that?” he replied, determined to brazen it out. - -Aline had hoped that her point blank assertion would have made him -confess at once and the way would have been easier for her; it was very -difficult to go on with this great burly bullying ruffian scowling at -her. However, her mind was made up and she had to go through with it. -“I know who has taken it,” she said firmly, “and I want you to promise -me that you will not take any more and that also you will replace as -much as you have taken away.” - -“Oh, do you, my fine young lady? You are not the mistress of this Hall, -not by a long way, I reckon. Who are you indeed? A penniless Scot that -no one would listen to. I should like to see you go with your tales -to Mistress Mowbray. She’d soon turn you upside down and spoil that -pretty skin of yours,” he growled coarsely. - -“But I shall find it my duty to tell Master Mowbray,” said Aline. - -“Oh, that is the way the land lies, you miserable tell-tale, is it?” - -Aline felt herself blush, as the retort stung, but she knew she was -right, and she only said, “But I should not tell any one if you would -give back the grain.” - -“Would you not?” he said fiercely; “well, I’ll see you never get the -chance, you little she-devil.” As he spoke he stepped forward and -placed his great hand over her mouth and lifting her up as though she -were a mere nothing, he ran with her to the gate and on to the middle -of the drawbridge. “No one will miss you in this house, you blethering -babe, and they will just think that you have somehow fallen in, playing -round in the dark. Mistress Mowbray would give me a month’s pay, if I -dared ask for it, you wretched brat.” - -She was absolutely powerless in his strong arms and he raised her above -his head and flung her into the moat. She struck the side of the bridge -as she fell and then dropped into the dark water. Andrew did not wait, -but ran some way into the gloom of the night and then stood to listen -whether any hue and cry was raised. Not a sound was to be heard and -after about a quarter of an hour he dimly could distinguish his fellow -servants walking home. Obviously they were unconscious that anything -unusual had happened and he was able to breathe freely as he muttered -to himself, “That was well done, she will tell no tales now.” He crept -back to the moat and peered in. All was still and black and the moat -gave no sign of the horrible deed that had just taken place in its -waters. Hardened wretch that he was, he could not help a shudder as he -thought of what lay under that inky surface. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -REMORSE - - -Andrew argued with himself as he walked homeward. No one could suspect -him. No one? Wait! There was one. What about Thomas? Thomas was not a -man to be trusted. At any moment he might find it to his own interests -to tell what he knew. Andrew began to be afraid. “I was a fool,” he -said, “after all. I must escape, escape at once; I will not go home.” - -He was not very clear in what direction to go. His original home was -near Carlisle, but for that reason he avoided it. He would go south, he -would make his way over the hills to Brough and Kirkby Stephen and then -strike for Lancaster. - -He had plenty of money and was able to secure horses at Brough so that -he actually got as far as Lancaster the next night. Here he thought he -might escape notice and right thankful was he to get to his bed. - -But he could not sleep. He was overtired and turned restlessly from -side to side, now drawing up his feet, now stretching them out. As he -lay there the thought of the black, glistening, silent moat returned -to him. “Meddlesome brat,” he muttered to himself, “you got what you -deserved.” The thought, however, would not depart but kept returning to -him, and his imagination would dwell upon something dark floating on -the surface of the water. “The fiends of hell get hold of thee,” he -uttered aloud in a hoarse whisper, sitting up in bed. - -As he sat up he heard a noise as of some one at his door. “Could any -one be listening?” He rose softly and listened himself on the inner -side. No, there was surely nothing. He cautiously opened the door and -peered out into the shadowy passage. As he did so the door was drawn -sharply from his hand and closed. For a moment he dared not move, but -stood trembling, waiting, expectant. He heard a distant horse on the -cobble stones, then absolute silence save the low wailing whistle of a -gust of wind. It seemed to bring back Aline’s little white terrified -face as she tried to cry out when he held her in his grip with his -hand over her mouth. The cold sweat broke out on his forehead and then -suddenly the tension relaxed,--“The wind, the wind; it was the wind -that had blown the door out of his hand.” - -He shivered and got back into bed. Again he heard horses’ hoofs; this -time they came nearer and nearer, they were surely coming to the inn. -Yes, they had stood still at the door. He leaped up and frantically -slipped on his clothes, while they were knocking for admission. Should -he try and escape down the stairs or through the window, down into the -yard of the hostel? He went to the other window and peeped out. It -was a man and a woman,--probably an eloping couple! He laughed a thin -mirthless laugh and once more got back into bed. - -This time he slept and dreamed that he was looking out of the window -into the hostel yard. Gradually it filled with dark water nearly level -with the sill. Then he saw something on the other side, floating on -the surface. It seemed to be coming his way. Slowly it rose;--it -was Aline, her arms hanging limply from the shoulders and the head -falling over to one side, with the mouth open and a great gash above -the forehead. It came nearer still. He tried to get away from the -window, but something held him. He strove and struggled in vain. “Oh, -that terrible mouth, that blood in the long wet hair.” Then the figure -lifted a hand and pointed at him. In another moment she would touch -him. “Maria! God!” he shrieked, but slowly it came closer and closer. -He shut his eyes; there was a great shock and he woke. He was lying on -the floor with his heart beating violently and a pain in the back of -his head. - -He did not dare to go back to bed this time; to sleep was worse than to -be awake. He sat down on the bed and held his throbbing brow between -his hands while his elbows rested on his knees; but gradually fatigue -overcame him and he fell asleep again. This time he found himself -standing among a crowd of other persons with lanthorns by the side -of the moat at Holwick. A little figure was being drawn up from the -water. He saw it carried in over the drawbridge, where the old arms of -the Mowbrays looked down,--argent, a cross engrailed azure;[11] but he -dared not follow. He seemed to stand there waiting for days and days. -“Would no one ever come out?” Then the funeral cortège appeared from -under the same gateway. He followed with the crowd, no one seemed to -see him, and there, in the ancient churchyard of Middleton, he saw the -little coffin lowered into the ground. - - [11] I.e., the field of the shield silver or white, the cross blue - with an irregular border. - -When every one had gone he still stood by the grave, dazed and -wondering. He was just about to leave, when a child’s figure in the -crowd turned back. It was Audry. She came slowly up to him and looked -from him to the grave and from the grave to him. Her face was filled -with unutterable reproach. “You,” she said, and lifted her finger at -him and was gone. - -He tried to run after her, but it was like running in heavy clay; his -feet were as lead and he seemed to slip back a pace for every step he -took forward. Finally he abandoned the attempt and, putting his hands -over his face, he wept bitterly. - -He was still weeping when he woke. “Holy Mother,” he cried, “why did -I do it?” The thought of the frail child bravely withstanding him in -the courtyard of Holwick came back to him,--“little St. Aline,” as the -villagers called her. Oh! how could he have done such a deed? “I am -lost, damned, and nothing I may do can ever bring her back. Cain! Cain! -unclean, branded and accurst!” - -It was morning now, should he go back and give himself up? Give himself -up and be hanged! Surely it were better to slay himself with his own -hands than do that! But the love of life is strong. Though he were -dead, she would not come to life again; the only thing that seemed to -offer any interest or hope was that some day he might be able to serve -little Mistress Audry, Aline’s playmate, Aline’s friend, all that was -left to represent the sweet child. - -So he rose and ate a few mouthfuls, by way of breakfast, and mounted -his horse, intending to make his way to London. But the agony of his -remorse would hardly allow him to sit his steed and, as he looked at -the bright sunshine, he shuddered and cursed it in his heart. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE JUDGMENT - - -While Andrew was starting over the hills in the darkness, the family -had gathered in the hall. Master Mowbray had seen that the drawbridge -was raised and that everything was safe for the night. Audry soon -wondered what had become of Aline and after a time made an excuse to -get away and went up to their room and down to the secret chamber. “Is -not Aline here?” she queried. - -“No,” said Ian, “she has not been down for a long time.” - -Ian came towards Audry as she spoke. “Why? cannot you find her?” he -said. - -“No, she is not in the hall and not in our room.” - -“Perhaps old Elspeth knows.” - -“I had forgotten her for the moment,” and Audry’s face brightened up. -“I will run and find her.” This she did at once but Aline had not been -seen. - -At length Audry felt that she must tell the others. So she came back to -the great hall and told Master Mowbray that Aline had disappeared. - -“’Sdeath,” he exclaimed, “what has happened to her; call the men at -once, run, Audry.” - -“Oddsfish man,” said Mistress Mowbray, “one would think the child was -an infant that could not take care of itself,--making such a fuss as -that! And I do not see that it would be so very great a matter if she -were lost. Why, you make as much a to-do about her as though she were -your own daughter. The hussie is up to mischief and she will see that -she does herself no harm.” - -Master Mowbray did not wait for all this, but left his wife talking -to the empty air. The first thing was to rouse all the servants and -every room inside was speedily examined, but with no result. “She must -have gone out before the gate was shut,” suggested Audry, “but that -is a very unusual thing. She might have gone to speak with one of the -servants and crossed the bridge just before it was closed. But even -if she had walked a little way and not heard them close the gate, she -would have rung the great bell. Surely she would not be too frightened.” - -To be out after the drawbridge was raised was a very serious fault as -every one in the Hall knew full well, and many a servant had rather run -the risk of staying out all night than incur the wrath and penalties -that would follow such an offence. - -“I hope the child has not come back and walked into the moat,” said -Master Mowbray. “It is a terribly dark night. Come this way,” he added -in a husky voice. In his rough way he was fonder of her than he would -have admitted even to himself, and her spell was increasing its hold -upon him. - -They went to the gate and the drawbridge was instantly lowered. They -then crossed the bridge and divided into two parties, taking their -lanthorns to the right and left. - -Audry accompanied her father to the left and they had not gone ten -paces before they came upon Aline’s little form lying in a broken piece -of the moat-wall, half in and half out of the water. It was easy to get -down to the water in many places on the outer side although impossible -on the inner side. Master Mowbray stepped down and picked up the slight -figure and carried it into the hall. - -She had apparently been dead for some time, and Audry broke into -uncontrollable weeping; her whole frame shook violently and it almost -seemed that she would choke herself. Every one stood aghast. Even -Mistress Mowbray felt something of the atmosphere of grief; she was -the only one sufficiently unmoved to speak at all, but she said, “Poor -little lassie, that was a hard ending. But, Audry dear, you must try -and control yourself, you will make yourself seriously ill.” - -“I do not mind if I do,” the child sobbed in reply. “Oh, Aline, darling -Aline, do not leave me, I cannot bear it,” and she flung herself on to -the small still form on the old oak settle and they feared her heart -would break. - -By this time every one was weeping, even the men-servants and Mistress -Mowbray herself. - -But as Audry passionately pressed the cold wet features to her face, -she suddenly cried out, “She is not dead. I am sure she is not dead, I -am sure that she still breathes.” - -There was a fire in the hall, as the summer was getting on and the -evenings were chilly up in the moorland district. In less time than -it takes to say, a bed had been made up by the fire and warmed with a -warming pan, and old Elspeth had tenderly undressed the child and put -her in the bed, while some one else had brought some warm milk. Elspeth -was bending over her and lightly rubbing the damp hair, half crooning -to herself, “My bairnie, my bonnie bairnie, wake up, my sweetest, -wake up once more.” Suddenly Aline opened her eyes and looked round -for a moment, and then closed them again. She gave no more sign that -night and it was an anxious time; but hope was strong. Hardly any one -went to bed but Mistress Mowbray. Even the servants for the most part -wandered about, coming every now and then to ask if there was any news. -The child was a favourite with nearly all of them, as much on account -of her gentle thoughtful ways as on account of her extreme almost -supernatural beauty. Then there was that strange mysterious power that -seemed to hold practically every one with whom she came into contact. -There were, of course, one or two who felt her very presence was a sort -of standing reproach and who disliked her accordingly, but such was -the extraordinary sweetness of her disposition that some, even in this -class, found themselves coaxed to a certain extent out of their worse -into their better selves against their will. - -In the morning it was apparent that immediate danger was passed, which -caused Mistress Mowbray to exclaim,--“Drat the bairn for frightening us -all like that without any reason. How stupid of her to fall into the -moat.” - -As soon as Aline was able to talk she had to explain how it happened. -They had gently moved her to another room and Audry and Master Mowbray -were seated at the bedside. She had told them of what she had seen and -how Andrew had thrown her into the water. “As I fell,” she went on, -“I felt my head strike violently against something. I luckily did not -become unconscious at once, but was able to scramble through the water -to the bank. I remember trying to get into a sort of hole in the wall, -and then I remember no more till this morning.” - -“But can you swim?” said Master Mowbray in blank astonishment, as it -was not considered a little girl’s accomplishment. - -“A little bit,” said Aline, not too anxious to draw attention to her -powers in this direction; as after the River Tees incident she felt it -might be better if they did not know what she was capable of doing. - -“I am afraid, sire, that the man is likely to be the same that took -your silver cup and other things,” she said, “but I am glad that I have -not had my wetting for nothing, and that you will be able to stop any -more corn being taken.” - -Master Mowbray stooped and kissed her. He did not often kiss the -children, not even Audry, as his was not a demonstrative nature. “Poor -sweet soul,” he said, “how can I repay you for what you have done?” - -“Let us go into the library again,” said Aline at once. - -“Of course, of course,” he said hastily; “however, we must do -something better than that; but for the present I must see about those -scoundrels, Andrew Woolridge and Thomas Carluke.” - -When Thomas heard what had happened on his arrival in the morning he -cursed the fates, saying to himself, “Why was Andrew such a fool as not -to go and get a long rod and feel all around that moat-side. She could -never have got out on the inner side. But who would have known that the -skelpie could swim?” and he bit his lips in indignation. “I wonder if -they will suspect me? No, Andrew is gone. I shall be safe; but curse -her, curse her a thousand times.” - -Andrew had not even dared to go to his own house but had slipped away -over the hills at once; consequently, when they sent down there, -nothing was known of him. News, however, soon leaked out of what had -happened and soon the whole country-side was on his track, with the -consequence that, before three days were spent, he was safely lodged in -what was known as the lower tower-room, in the old pele-tower on the -west side of the Hall. - -Master Mowbray was determined to send him to York to stand his trial -as soon as possible, but to his great surprise he met with opposition -from a very unexpected quarter. He went and told Aline the next morning -after the successful capture and added that his intention was to send -Andrew to York on the following day but one, expecting that the news -would give her satisfaction. - -Aline did not seem particularly pleased; but Audry, who was there, -said, “Oh, I am glad they have caught him; I hope he will soon be -hanged.” - -Aline looked up rather puzzled. “Isn’t that rather blood-thirsty?” - -“Oh, no! Aline, dear Aline, if he had succeeded! Oh!” and Audry nearly -wept at the bare thought. - -“I don’t know. I am not sure that people should be hanged.” - -“Of course they should be hanged,” said Master Richard. - -Aline felt a certain spirit of opposition arising. “Certainly,” she -thought, “hanging does not seem to be a particularly helpful road to -repentance.” Her head ached and she could not think very clearly; but -of a surety if once she let the man be hanged it would be too late to -do anything. - -The others watched her silently for a few moments and then to Master -Mowbray’s amazement Aline begged with tears in her eyes that he would -let Andrew off if he would confess all that he had taken and restore -it as far as possible, and promise to make all the amends that lay in -his power. Master Mowbray at first absolutely refused; but, at last, to -humour the child, promised that he would reconsider the question on the -following day if she were better. - -Aline was stronger and brighter the next day and when Richard Mowbray -came in to see her she renewed her request,--“You said, sire, -yesterday,” she began, “that you would like to do something better for -me than just let Audry and me use the library again, so I want, please, -to make this my request,--that you will not punish Andrew and Thomas if -they show that they are really sorry.” - -“Of course, if you put it that way, child, I shall have to do what you -ask, as far as is possible.” He sat for a few moments without speaking, -and then added,--“I have examined into the matter and find that Thomas -did not actually steal anything himself, nor did he get anything out of -it; but he seems to be a poor cowardly sort of fellow whom Andrew used -as a tool. I might let him stay on in the house if you greatly wish it, -but I really cannot, even if we pardon Andrew, have him any longer at -the Hall. I think that the man is too violent to be trusted. He does -not really belong to this neighbourhood at all and it might be possible -to send him back to Carlisle whence he came. That is about all that I -can suggest. There is a cousin of mine near there who might keep an -eye on him, and if he gives sign of trouble this could still be kept -hanging over him. But do you really wish it? Do you understand, child, -what you are doing?” - -“Yes, I really would like it,” she said. - -“Then I shall go and speak to the men,” said Mowbray, and departed. - -After half an hour he came back again. “Would you mind seeing them?” -he said. “I think it would be good for them. I have told them what you -asked and at first they hardly seemed to believe it. Andrew scarcely -said anything, though Thomas was profuse in his gratitude.” - -“I will see them if you wish it, but it is not easy.” - -He looked at the sad little figure and his heart smote him and yet -somehow he felt that it was the right thing to do, so he went down -again and brought up the men. - -Aline was propped up on pillows; she looked very weak, but the -wonderful pearly, almost translucent, complexion that distinguished -her had for the moment recovered its usual brilliancy. Andrew was led -in with his hands tied behind his back; he looked sullen and sheepish, -whereas Aline had seldom looked more queenly in spite of her condition. -Thomas was not bound and looked singularly at ease. - -“You have both of you behaved most disgracefully,” Master Mowbray said -in a judicial tone; “you have meanly taken advantage of the house that -had provided you with your livelihood and one of you has committed a -crime so vile that it is not for me to find words in which to express -my abhorrence. If I were doing what my real judgment tells me I should -do, you, Thomas, for your part, would spend a long time in York Gaol, -and as for you,” he continued, turning to Andrew, “the world would soon -be rid of you altogether. However, Mistress Aline has asked me to give -you both another chance, as you know; but I wanted you first to see the -result of your sin and to give you an opportunity of thanking her for -what you do not deserve; so I have brought you here. Aline, child, tell -them what you want them to do.” - -It was a very difficult task for the small invalid, and Master Mowbray -did not at all realise what he was demanding from the sensitive highly -strung little maiden. But she nerved herself for the task and tried to -forget herself and everything but the men before her. - -“Oh, please, Andrew,” she said, “I only want to tell you that I am -feeling much better. I shall be all right in a day or two, and Master -Mowbray says that you are to go to Carlisle, where you used to live. -My father once took me to Carlisle when I was a very little girl and -it is a fine town, much bigger than Appleby. You should easily find -work there and you will not forget, will you, to send Master Mowbray -something every month to replace the things that have gone? Master -Mowbray’s cousin will let us know how you are getting on, and please, -sire,” she continued, turning to Richard Mowbray himself and then -looking at Andrew’s bonds but not mentioning them, “I want to shake -hands with Andrew and hope that he will be happy.” - -The Master of Holwick looked at her rather amazed and then untied the -rope. “You will promise to repay what you have stolen,” he said. - -“Yes,” mumbled Andrew sulkily. - -“Now say how grateful you are to her and how sorry you are for what you -have done.” - -“Thank you, I’m sorry.” - -Aline held out her beautiful little hand and smiled sweetly at him. -Andrew stiffly responded and then let his arm fall to his side. This -was all entirely beyond his comprehension; why she did not wish him -hanged he utterly failed to grasp. What was the use of having one’s -enemy in one’s hands if one did not crush him? “Certainly,” he thought, -“there were some foolish people who were generally called good, who -did not behave in that way, and who preached to one about one’s sins, -but this child said nothing about his sins and was simply beyond -calculation altogether.” - -She turned to Thomas with the same frank smile to take his hand, “So -you are going to stay with us, Thomas; I wonder whether you would be -kind enough to help Mistress Audry to look after my falcon while I am -ill.” - -“Oh, yes, indeed, Mistress Aline,” he replied, “I shall never forget -your kindness to me. May the Mother of God bless you for what you have -done. We are all of us sinners and may God have mercy upon me.” He -kneeled as he spoke and pressed her hand to his lips and added, “You -may be sure that I shall always be ready to serve you to my dying day. -It will be my lasting honour to carry out your least wish.” - -Thomas congratulated himself on having escaped so easily, and as they -were dismissed and were crossing the courtyard he said to Andrew,--“She -is a soft one and no mistake.” Andrew did not reply; he had not -recovered his senses. She must be a fool, he thought, and yet she made -him look a pretty fool, too; he was not sure for the moment that he did -not hate her more than ever. But, as he came to think it over in after -years, the scene would rise before his eyes, and he would see that -fascinating delicate face with pain written all over it, and hear the -musical voice pleading,--“You will not forget, will you?” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE PACKMAN’S VISIT - - -When the men had gone Aline lay thinking, dreaming, building castles in -the air. What a narrow escape she had had! Life seemed full of troubles -and dangers. Here was she whose life had been a series of misfortunes -and now she had only just escaped death, and there was Ian, whose -escape had been as close as her own and who was still in uncertainty -and peril. He not only had misfortunes but was in danger all the time. -“It must be terrible to live in perpetual anxiety,” she thought. “What -a pity Ian is a heretic,” she mused; “it means that he is never safe -anywhere and it hinders his chances. He is obviously very clever in -spite of his humble station. Only think,--if he had not been a heretic -he might have become a prince of the church; after all the great -Cardinal Wolsey was only the son of a butcher and Ian is better than -that. I think his people had a little bit of land. Why, some of these -yeomen round here are almost like gentlemen. Ah! but if he had been on -the road to a cardinal, I should never have seen him and so I should -not be interested in him at all. - -“Now I wonder,--but I suppose he could hardly be as clever as all -that; but why should he not become a great doctor in a university?” -and Aline drew herself a vivid picture of Ian as a sort of Abelard -gathering thousands of students round him wherever he went. But the -picture was spoiled when again she remembered that his heresy would -stand in the way. “How cruel they were to Abelard,” she said, “but -marry, they are worse now, and that was cruel enough.” - -Then her thoughts turned from Abelard to the heart-rending picture of -Heloise and her love for him. “She was clever, too,” she thought, “I -should like to be clever like that. Why should not a girl be clever? -The Lady Jane was clever, as father was always reminding me and then -they chopped off her head, alas! So is the Lady Elizabeth’s Grace. I -dare say the Queen’s Grace will have her sister’s head cut off, too. I -believe the best people always have a sad time. Poor, poor Heloise!” - -“I wonder,” she reflected, “if I ever could love like that, with -absolute entire whole-hearted devotion, giving up everything for my -love,--my friends, my honour, and even the consolations of religion. -And yet I believe that’s the right kind of love, not the kind that just -lets other people love you. Well, if one can’t be clever or love or do -anything that is best without suffering, then I think I would choose -the suffering. But, oh dear! it is very hard, I wonder if things get -easier as one gets older. I am afraid not. Yet fancy having the praise -of one’s love sung by all the world hundreds of years after one was -dead! That must have been a love indeed. Ah, Heloise, I should like to -love like you when I grow older. Yes, I would rather be Heloise with -all her sorrow than the grand ladies who marry for wealth or position -or passing affection and do not know really what love is at all. - -“Yes, and I think I should prefer to marry some one very clever, -some one who really in himself was superior to other men, a man with -something that couldn’t be taken away like riches or titles or outer -trappings of any kind. Yes, my knight must be clever as well as brave. -I should like some one like father. But I think I should like him to -be great and wealthy, too, although these other things are best. It -would be rather nice to be allowed to wear cloth of silver and gold -chains,[12] but I suppose that is very silly. I wish father were alive -now to help me. I should like to be clever myself, too, and there is no -one here who can give me aid. Master Richard does not care about these -things; I wonder if Ian would be any good. It’s marvellous what he has -picked up. I wonder if he knows Latin. But that isn’t likely. I shall -ask him next time I see him, but I suppose I really ought to try and -sleep now.” - - [12] The sumptuary laws very strictly regulated what people were - allowed to wear according to their rank. - -So she fell asleep and dreamed; and dreamed that she was dressed in -velvet and cloth of silver and a gold chain; and a knight in shining -armour was kneeling at her feet and calling her his most learned lady. - -Aline did not get well very quickly. It was not many days before she -was able to get up, but she was much shaken and easily tired, so that -she was hardly able to do more than walk a little bit about the house. -She was quite unequal to going upstairs and although at her particular -request she had gone back to her own room, Richard Mowbray himself -used to carry her up when it came to bed time. Sometimes he would -even carry her out on to the moors, and altogether he paid her more -attention than he had been wont to do. This made his wife more jealous -than ever and, although at the time it prevented her from ill-treating -the child, it only made matters worse afterwards. - -One afternoon when she had somewhat gained strength, he carried her out -across the court and up the nine steps on to the library terrace. “I am -going to take you into the library,” he said as he set her down, while -he opened the door. Aline was pleased, as it was now some weeks since -she had entered the room. - -He seated her in the glorious oriel window at the end, with its -beautiful tracery and fine glass, and put her feet up on the window -seat. The lower part of the window was open and revealed a wonderful -view of the rolling purple moors, while in the foreground was the -glassy moat, blue as the heaven above, bright and beautiful, as though -nothing untoward had ever happened there. - -“It is a nice, quiet retreat this,” he said, “but it was more suited to -your great-great-grandfather who built it than to me. My father used -to spend a great deal of time here as a young man, but latterly he was -almost entirely at his other place in Devon as it suited his health. -Of course that has gone now; we are living in hard times, although we -still hold the old Middleton property, which is our principal estate; -Holwick is only a very small place. But he always took an interest in -this library and right up to the last he used to send books up here -to add to the collection, but his own visits here must have been very -rare.” - -“What was my great-grandmother like, did you ever see her, sire?” said -Aline. - -“Yes, Aline Gillespie was a very beautiful woman, and exceedingly -clever. She was also very gentle and a universal favourite. My -great-grandfather, James Mowbray, was almost heartbroken when she -married, although he was warmly attached to your great-grandfather, -Angus, but it meant that she had to go and live in Scotland. My -grandfather was fond of her, too, although he was always a little bit -jealous.” - -“Do you remember her, sire?” - -“I saw her now and then and remember that she used to give me presents, -one was this well-wrought Italian buckle, which I still wear on my -belt. She was very fond of books too, and there was some talk of my -great-grandfather having intended to leave her half the books in this -library; but he died rather suddenly and I imagine, therefore, that he -had not time to carry out his intention.” - -“I suppose then that she would often sit where I am sitting now. How -interesting it is to picture it all.” - -“Oh, yes, she had a special ambry in the wall, that old James Mowbray -had made for her. It is there behind that panel, with the small -ornamental lock. I think that the key of it will be about somewhere. -The library keys used to be kept in the little drawer in this table at -the end.” - -“I did not know that there was a drawer,” said Aline. - -“I fancy it is made the way it is on purpose, so as not to be very -conspicuous. You cannot call it a secret drawer though. I doubt if that -kind of thing was in the old man’s line, although he had some strange -fancies. Yes, here they are,” he said, pulling out the drawer. “See, -this is the ambry,” he went on, opening the cupboard as he spoke. -“Would you like it for your own treasures?” - -“Very much indeed.” - -“Then you can have it.” - -Aline’s face lit up with pleasure. “Oh, thank you so much, that is -delightful.” - -“I am not certain what these other keys are for,” said Master Mowbray. -“This is, I think, the key of that old kist which used to have some -papers that were at one time of importance relating to the house. If -you like to rummage over old things you may enjoy having a look at -them. I think that you are a good girl and that I may trust you, but -you must remember always to lock it and put everything back. One of the -other keys is, of course, the key of the rods that hold the books and -the remaining key I have forgotten. You had better take your own key -off the bunch, but keep them all in the drawer as before.” - -He put the keys in the drawer and came back and sat on the seat -opposite her. “I have never heard you read,” he said, “and Audry tells -me that you are a fine reader. I have almost forgotten how to read -myself, so little do I practise it nowadays. Are you tired, child? -Would you read me something?” - -“Yes, sire, if it would please you,” she said. - -“You can call me Cousin Richard,” he replied. “I remember how my aunt, -your great-grandmother, whom you slightly resemble, once read to me in -this very room, when I was a boy.” - -“Oh, what did she read?” - -“There was one story, a poem about a father who had lost his little -daughter, and saw a vision of her in heaven.” - -“Oh, ‘Pearl,’ a lovely musical thing with all the words beginning with -the same letters. I do not mean all the words; I do not know how to -explain it; you know what I mean.” - -“Then there was another one about a green girdle and a lady that kissed -a knight.” - -“Yes, ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’; it is a pretty tale.” - -“But I think what I liked best of all was Sir Thomas Malory.” - -“That is what Audry likes best,” said Aline; “she thinks that some of -the books that I read are too dry, because they are not stories, but I -am not sure that I too do not like ‘The Morte d’Arthur’ best of all.” - -“Read me something out of that.” - -She turned to the well known scene of the passing of Arthur. Master -Mowbray leaned back against the window-jamb and looked across at her -in the opposite corner. The late afternoon sun was warm and golden. -She was wearing a little white dress, which took on a rich glow in the -mellow light. Over her hair and shoulder played the colours from the -glass in the upper part of the window. She knew the story practically -by heart and her big eyes looking across at him seemed to grow larger -and rounder with wonder and mystery as she told the tale. - -Under the spell of the soft witching music of her voice he was -transported to that enchanted land, and there he saw the dying king -and Sir Bedivere failing to throw the sword into the water:--“But go -again lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of -my life, for I have taken cold ... for thou wouldest for my rich sword -see me dead!” Then followed the passage where Sir Bedivere throws in -the sword and the mystic barge comes with the three Queens, and as -Richard Mowbray looked over at the little face before him he saw in -the one face the beauty of them all. So on the wings of a perfect -tale perfectly told he forgot the perplexities and anxieties that -encompassed him, and himself floated to the Land of Avilion while he -gazed and, like Ian Menstrie, was lured by the same charm and began -to wonder whether she were not indeed herself from the land of faëry. -“‘For I will go to the vale of Avilion,’” he repeated to himself, “‘to -heal me of my grievous wound.’” - -“Yes, this is a healing of the wounds of life,” he added. “I never -realised before that beauty had such power. Come, child, it is time we -went,” he said aloud and gently lifted her in his arms; “we must see -what the others are doing.” So he carried her out on to the terrace -that ran in front of the library and down the steps and across the -quadrangle to the great Hall. There they found considerable excitement; -a packman with five horses had arrived from the south and every one was -making purchases who had any money laid by. - -“Now that is a fine carpet,” he was saying as he unrolled a piece of -Flemish work. “It was made at Ispahan for the Shah of Persia and is the -best bit of Persian carpet you will ever see. That would look well in -my lady’s boudoir. I would let you have that for five florins.” - -He did not seem very pleased at the master’s entrance at that moment; -Richard Mowbray glanced at it and remarked, “But that is Flemish -weaving.” - -“Did I not say Flemish?” he said. “Oh, it is Flemish right enough; it -was made for the Duke of Flanders.” - -“And if I had said it was Tuscan I suppose it would have been made for -the Duke of Tuscany.” - -“Ah, master, you make mock of me; see, here, I have some buckles of -chaste design that might take your fancy or these daggers of Spanish -make, or what say you to a ring or a necklace for one of the ladies?” - -“We have no moneys for gauds and vanities.” - -“But beauty will not bide, and when you have the money it may be too -late; you would not let it go ungraced. Prithee try these garnets on -the Lady of Holwick. They would become her well, or this simple silver -chain for the young mistress,” looking at Aline for the first time. “By -my troth she is a beautiful child,” he exclaimed involuntarily. - -“Ah well then, my friend, good wine needs no bush.” - -“Nay, sweets to the sweet, and for fair maids fair things.” - -“Truly you are a courtier.” - -“Ay, and have been at court, and those of most courtesy have bought -most of my wares.” - -“Enough, enough, what have you of good household stuff, things that a -good housewife must buy though the times be hard. Come, show my lady -such things as good linen and good cloth.” - -“You bring him to the point,” said Mistress Mowbray; “yes, sirrah, what -have you in the way of linen?” - -“I have linen of France and linen of Flanders; I have linen fine and -linen coarse.” - -He unrolled several samples as he spoke, and Mistress Mowbray selected -some linen of Rennes of fine texture, which she said would do to make -garments for Audry and herself. “And your supply of clothes that -you brought from Scotland is in need of some plenishing,” she said, -glancing at Aline. “There will be work for idle hands. Here, this stout -dowlas[13] will stand wear well, and be warmer too.” - - [13] A very coarse sort of canvas used for underclothes by the poorest - classes in the sixteenth century. - -Aline felt the blood rush to her face, but she said nothing. It was not -that she thought much about her clothes; indeed she had the natural -simple taste of the high born that eschews finery, yet a certain -daintiness and delicacy she did desire and had always had, and it was a -bitter disappointment, a disappointment made more cruel by the public -shame of it. - -Walter Margrove, the packman, looked at her; he had not travelled -amongst all sorts and conditions for nothing and he took the situation -in at a glance. - -“Yes, Mistress Mowbray,” Aline said at length, “I shall have a great -deal to do.” - -Richard Mowbray had left the hall, but old Elspeth who was standing by -said, “I will help you, childie.” - -Mistress Mowbray scowled at her, and muttered,--“Well, I hope, Aline, -that you will work hard,” then turning to Margrove she asked to look -at other wares. Such opportunities did not often occur in a remote -place like Holwick and it was very difficult to do one’s purchasing at -a distance; so although she only bought things of real necessity she -laid in a large supply from the packman’s stock. - -On these occasions the surrounding tenants were allowed to come up -to the hall and Walter Margrove, when Mistress Mowbray had departed, -started to put his things together to take them into the courtyard. -The children stayed behind to watch him for a few moments and as he -was leaving the Hall he pressed a small packet into Aline’s hand and -said in a whisper, “Do not say anything; it is a pleasure, just a small -remembrance.” - -The packet contained the small silver necklace that he had been showing -before. It was not of great intrinsic value, but was of singularly -chaste design and though exceedingly simple was of much beauty. - -Aline was immensely surprised at the unexpected joy, and for the time -it quite made up to her for her previous disappointment. - -As the packman went into the courtyard a great crowd gathered round -him, both chaffering and gossiping. “Who is the beautiful young -mistress that has come to Holwick?” he asked. - -“Oh, she is a distant cousin of Master Mowbray,” said one, “but you -have no idea of the things that have been going on since you were last -at Holwick.” - -“What things?” - -“Why, the child has been nearly killed,” said old Elspeth who had -followed the packman out. “Poor wee soul, it makes my old heart bleed -to think of it even now.” - -Elspeth then recounted the tale of all that had taken place. - -“Then why is Mistress Holwick not more grateful? She seems to have -saved her and her good man a pretty penny indeed.” - -“The woman is crazed with jealousy or envy or what not,” said another. - -“But the child seems a lovable one to my thinking,” said Margrove. - -“There has never been a better lassie in Holwick is my way of looking -at it.” It was Janet Arnside who was speaking; she had come up to see -Elspeth, and take the opportunity of buying a few trifles at the same -time. “My boy just owes his life to her; she has been down to us times -without number, and I have never seen anything like the way that she -gets hold of one’s heart. I cried the whole day long when I heard -of her being hurt like that, and it just makes me rage to hear the -things that they tell of Mistress Holwick and the child. It would have -been the worst thing that ever happened to Holwick if anything really -serious had befallen her that night.” - -“Ay, ay,” said several voices in chorus. - -“And why should not the bairn have fine linen, I should like to know?” -she went on. - -“It is a downright shame,” said a man’s voice. - -“Well, neighbour,” said Janet, “I am not the one to interfere in other -folk’s business, but I am not the only one that the child has blessed, -not the only one by a long way.” - -“No, that you are not, mistress,”--“No, indeed, think of my wife’s -sickness,”--“Think of my little lass,”--“Ay, and mine,”--“And my old -father,”--said one voice after another. - -“Can we not do something, neighbours?” said Janet. “Why not speak to -Master Richard himself?” - -“It is an ill thing to meddle between husband and wife,” said Margrove. -“By my halidame I have a half mind to speak to the jade myself. She -cannot hurt me.” - -“No, but she can hurt the child more, when you have gone,” rejoined -Elspeth. “Look here, it is not much, but it is something; let us get -the linen ourselves, and it will help Master Margrove, honest man, at -the same time. I shall be seeing to the making of the clothes and I can -make a tale for the child and prevent her speaking to Mistress Mowbray. -The Mistress does not pay that much attention to the little lady’s -belongings I can tell you. She leaves it all to me, and bless you if -she sees any linen garments I shall tell her that they are of those -that came from Scotland.” - -“Ay, ay, agreed, agreed,” they all shouted. “Give us the very best -linen you have, master, and some of your finest lace and we will clothe -her like a princess under her kirtle.” - -“I’ faith, you are the right sort, but it is no profit I will be making -on this business; no, you shall have the things at the price I paid -for them and not a groat more, no, not even for carriage and I will -give her some pieces of lace myself. See here are some fine pieces of -Italian work. This is a beautiful little piece of _punto in aria_ and -this is a fine piece of _merletti a piombini_: But stay; she shall have -too a finer piece still, something like the second one; it is Flemish, -_dentelles au fuseau_, from Malines”; he drew it forth as he spoke and -fingered it lovingly amid marked expressions of admiration from Elspeth -and the other woman. - -“It’s nothing to some beans that I shall give her,” interposed Silas, -the irrepressible farm-reeve. “They are French, you know, from Paris,” -imitating Walter’s manner. - -“Be quiet”; “stop your nonsense,” they all shouted. - -“I am not quite sure,” he went on dreamily and quite unperturbed, -“whether I shall thread them on a string to wear on her bosom, or cook -them for her to wear inside; but certainly she shall have them for -nothing; not a groat will I take. I should scorn to ask the price they -cost me.” - -Jock, the stableman, stepped forward and struck out playfully at Silas. -“He always carries on like that,” he said; but Silas dodged aside and -put out his leg so that Jock stumbled and collapsed in confusion into -Walter’s arms. - -“A judgment on the stableman for insulting the reeve,” said Silas, -marching off with mock solemnity. - -As he reached the gate he turned back. “No offence, Walter; put me down -for ten florins for our bonnie little mistress. I’ll bring it anon.” - -The others gasped at the largeness of the sum as the good-natured face -of the reeve disappeared through the archway. - -Soon after, the crowd thinned away and Walter was packing up his -things, when Aline happened to come to the hall door. He saw her and -went quickly to her and before she could thank him for his present of -the necklace he said, “If at any time there is anything that you would -like me to do out in the wide world, a message for instance, remember -that I am always ready to help you.” - -“I do not think that there is anything just now,” she said. - -“Then God be with you,”--and he was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -SWORDS AND QUESTIONINGS - - -Aline had rather overtaxed her strength and had a slight set-back, so -that it was some time before she was strong enough to climb down the -stairs and visit Ian again. He was feeling very dejected that day. His -collar bone and his ankle had healed; but although in some ways better, -he was beginning to feel the want of fresh air and it told not only -upon his health but his spirits. He was also desperately anxious to -get on to Carlisle where it was arranged that he should hand over the -papers to Johnne Erskyne of Doun, but he was by no means fit to travel -on his dangerous errand. The worrying, however, made him worse and what -he felt he required was some gentle exercise to get up his strength. - -Altogether it was with keener pleasure even than usual that he saw -Aline come. “Oh, I am so glad to see you,” he said; “Audry has been -telling me the dreadful things that have happened, but I want you to -tell me something yourself. Sit down and make yourself as comfortable -as you can.” - -“But I am not an invalid now,” said Aline, “and do not need special -comfort. How are you; are you not tired of being shut up here?” - -“Yes, indeed, and you too will be wanting some fresh air to put you to -rights again. Audry says that you did not suffer much pain; is that so? -But it must have been a terrible shock; you may well take some time to -recover.” - -“I am getting on marvellously well,” said Aline, “and I have been -thinking that you might be getting out a little bit. You could sit out -near the mouth of the cave if one of us kept watch, and after dark it -would even be safe to walk a little.” - -“Yes, I have been thinking that myself,” he replied. “I have been -looking round this room to while away the time and have found some -interesting things. I wonder, by the way, what is in that old iron -chest there. It does not seem to have any lock, which is most strange.” - -“Yes, we must find that out,” said Aline, “but really so many things -have happened and there has been so much to do that we have not had -time to think about it.” - -“Well, amongst other things I have found some rapiers,” he said, “and -have been practising thrusts and parries, by way of getting a little -exercise, but one cannot do much by oneself. Two men imprisoned in this -place might keep themselves in fair condition, although it is rather -short of air for such activity; however, that cannot be.” - -“Oh, let me see the rapiers,” said Aline. “Ah, here they are,--and -helmets and leather jerkins and gloves. I am going to dress up,” she -added, laughing. - -“There now, what do I look like? You must dress up too; I want to see -how they suit you.” - -Ian put on a helmet and the other things while Aline executed a -graceful little dance round the room. When he had finished she said -roguishly, “Do you know anything about fencing? I have seen people -fence. They stand something like this,” putting her right foot rather -too far forward and turning it outward and not bending the knee -sufficiently. “Shall I teach you?” - -“No, but I might teach you,” said Ian, quite innocently. - -“Well, but do you know anything about it?” and Aline smiled -mischievously. - -“I ought to do; when I was a wanderer in Italy I learned a great deal -that is entirely unknown here.” - -“Stand on guard then, and show me something.” As he moved, she appeared -to copy his attitude. “Engage,” and mechanically from long use he -brought down his sword. In a flash she disengaged and cut over. He -parried; she made a remise, and was in upon him with a hit over the -heart. - -Aline burst out laughing while Ian was thunder-struck. She took off -her helmet saying, “We must not have any more to-day as I am not well -enough, but we shall have some fine times later on. It was rather a -shame though, but I could not help it, it was such fun. I was a little -afraid that you would be too taken aback to parry at all, and that -would have been very dull. I hope you are a good fencer really; there -was said to be no one in Scotland who could come anywhere near my -father.” - -“Oh, that is how you come to know so much about it,” said Ian, sitting -down. Even the slight effort had been too much. - -“Yes, my father taught me and told me that I was getting on very well, -but I have had no practice since I came to Holwick some eight months -ago. Things are much harder than they used to be. Father used to give -me much of his time. You see he had no boys and so he always said -that he would like me to know the things that boys know. And yet I do -not know that I am altogether fond of them. But I have always loved -swimming, and fencing is delightful. Somehow I never cared particularly -about riding, but I have come to like it in the last week or two, since -I have started again. It takes me away from the Hall and that is a -great thing.” - -“I always loved riding,” said Ian. “There is nothing like a good horse -at a canter and the wind rushing over one’s face.” - -“Yes, I do not know why it was. Of course we never had good horses -after I was eight years old.” - -“Why do you want to get away from the Hall?” - -Aline did not speak at first; then she said, “Well, you see it makes a -change.” - -“Is it Mistress Mowbray that is the real cause? Come, little one, tell -me truthfully, doesn’t she treat you well?” - -“There is always a great deal to do, cleaning and mending and, when -there is nothing else, there is always spinning and carding.” - -“Well, I suppose that we must all of us do our share of work.” - -Aline could not keep back the tears, which welled into her eyes and -made them glisten. “Yes, it is not really the work, I should not mind -the work. Indeed I am used to very hard work indeed; because, before -the end, I used to have to do almost everything at home.” - -“What does she do to you, child? Has she been losing her temper again? -Come, tell me.” - -“I do not like to say, but she does all kinds of things.” - -“Well, never mind if you do not want to tell me.” - -“No, I do not mind telling you; it is that I am not sure how far I -should say anything to any one at all. But you will never see her and -it does relieve one’s feelings to be able to speak to any one.” - -“Then come and sit by me and tell me all about it.” - -Aline came and sat by him on the old settee. “You see it is not exactly -because she hits me that I mind, although I have never been hit by any -one before; but she is always doing little petty things that in some -ways are harder to bear than being knocked about;--for instance, when -we sit down to breakfast there are always two pitchers of milk, which -we have with our porridge. They are neither of them quite full, and she -takes one of them and pours out some for herself and Cousin Richard, -then she looks into it to see what is left and generally pours most of -it into the other pitcher. After that she hands the full one to Audry -and the one with only a little drop in the bottom to me.” - -“Does Audry know?” - -“Of course not,--dear Audry,--I am sure if it would benefit Audry I -would go without milk altogether. I would not have her know for worlds; -she would quarrel with her mother over it.” - -“What else does she do?” Ian asked. - -Aline then told the story of the packman. She did not yet know what had -been done by Elspeth and the others about the linen, but she pulled -up the necklace which she was wearing under her dress and shewed it -to Ian. “Now is that not pretty? I have always wanted a necklace and -father had promised only a little while before he died that as soon as -he could afford it he would get me one; so I try to think of it as if -it was father’s present.” - -The tears again gathered in the beautiful eyes and this time one rolled -over on to her cheek. She brushed it away hastily; but Ian drew her -gently towards him and kissed her for the first time. “Sweet little -maiden,” he said, “I hope that God will be good to you after what you -have been through in your young life.” - -“I do not like the priest here,” she continued; “of course I like -Father Laurence, but Middleton is too far away and when I went to -confession the other day I said something to Father Ambrose about -father, but he was not a bit kind and sympathetic like our dear old -priest at home. I always keep a candle burning for father; that is -what I mainly spend my money on, and I wanted him to tell me how long -he thought it would be before my father’s soul would get to heaven; do -you think it will be very long, and will my candles help him? Somehow I -do not see why God should make any difference because of our candles; -suppose my father had had no little girl to burn candles; or suppose -that I had had no money, that would have been worse still.” - -“These things are very difficult, sweet child, but I am sure that the -love of your little heart that happens to show itself in buying the -candles must meet with its own reward, whether candles themselves are -necessary or not. But I am afraid that I cannot be of much use to you, -little one, because I am no longer of the old faith.” - -“Tell me something about that then. Father said that he would tell me -when I got older.” - -“I do not want to unsettle you,” Ian said; “but of one thing I feel -sure,--that God would never deal harshly with a child that believed -what it had been taught. When we get older it is different, just as it -is in the other responsibilities of life. That is largely why we are -put here in this world,--to learn to think for ourselves and take up -responsibilities: things are not made too easy for us, or we should not -have the high honour that God has given us of largely building our own -characters,--of making ourselves.” - -Aline sat quiet and thoughtful for some time. “Master Menstrie,” she -said at length, “I am not so very young now and I think that I should -like to begin to know something about these things.” - -“You have not read the Bible, I suppose,” said Ian. - -“No, it is wicked to read the Bible.” - -“Why?” - -“The priests say so.” - -“But how do you know that they are right? After all, what is the Bible? -It is the word of God, and although even the Bible was written by human -beings, it is largely the words of our Lord himself and the writings of -people who actually knew him or lived in that very time.” - -Ian talked to her for some time, and then Aline said that she would -like to read the Bible. - -“There is no reason why you should not,” he said, “but you must -remember that you are undertaking a great responsibility, and that -though it may bring great joy and comfort, it will be the beginning -of sorrow too, and you are very young,” he added, looking at her -wistfully. “I have a little English translation of the New Testament,” -he went on after a pause, “which I can lend you, but Audry was telling -me the other day that you could read Greek.” - -“Oh, only easy Greek,” said Aline. “I have read some of Aesop and that -is quite easy, but father and I used to read Homer together and that -was delightful although more difficult.” - -“Did you read much? What did you like best?” - -“Oh, yes, I read a great deal; at least it was really father reading, -at any rate at first. I did not do much more than follow, but I got so -used to it at last that I could read it without great difficulty. There -was so much that I liked that I could not say what I liked best, but -there was little that was more delightful than the story of Nausikaa. I -shall never forget her parting with Odysseus. - -“Father told me that the Lady Jane Grey read and enjoyed Plato and -Demosthenes, when she was about the age I am now, besides knowing -French and Italian thoroughly. I have read a little Plato and have -tried Demosthenes, but I did not care about him so much.” - -“I love Plato,” said Ian. “After the Bible there is nothing so helpful -in the world. You seem to have done very well, little maid; but can you -read Latin?” - -“That is amusing,” she said, “because I was going to ask you if you -could read Latin. Now I shall want to know if you can read Greek or -if you read in Latin translations. Oh, yes,” she went on, “I can read -Latin quite easily. I dare say there is some Latin that I cannot read, -but anything at all ordinary I can manage. Yet I do not like Latin as -well as Greek, and the things that are written in Latin are not half as -interesting.” - -“I quite agree with you. I learned Latin as a boy, but when I was -in Venice working on some great iron hinges, my employer, who was a -great scholar, took an interest in me and he enabled me to get a fair -knowledge of Greek. I have steadily practised it since and can now read -anything, except some of the choruses and things like that, without -difficulty. However, if you can read Latin, there is no need for you -to read an English translation at all, and it is much safer; as the -priests do not mind any one, who can read Latin, reading the Bible -nearly so much as those who cannot. I expect that there will be a copy -of the Vulgate in the library; although it is very unlikely that there -will be anything in the original Greek; though there might be the -Septuagint.” - -“What is the Vulgate then?” - -“Oh, a translation of the Bible into Latin. It is really a revised -edition of the ‘Old Latin’ translation, made in the time of Pope -Damasus and after, largely by St. Jerome in the fourth century.” - -“I shall go and have a look as soon as I can.” - -Ian sat and looked at her without speaking. She certainly was a most -unusual child, but he was by no means anxious to trouble her mind with -disturbing perplexities. There is a good deal to be said even for the -priests, he reflected; responsibility may be too crushing altogether. - -“Well, I have to go and do some spinning and Mistress Mowbray will be -wondering where I am; but you will give me lessons in Greek, will you -not?” - -“Certainly, we will start next time you come to see me. See if you can -find some Greek books in the library. Good-bye.” - -Aline departed and sat at the wheel till supper and then went up with -Audry to their room. - -What was her surprise as she looked at her bed to see it covered with -neatly folded little piles of beautiful linen. - -Child as she was she knew at once that both the linen and lace upon it -were of exceptional quality. - -“O Audry dear! what is all this?” she exclaimed. - -“Well, you will never guess, will she, Elspeth?” said Audry, turning to -the old nurse who had stolen in to see how the gift would be received. - -“Nobody could bear that you should wear dowlas, hinnie,” said the old -dame, “and so practically every one in the neighbourhood has had a hand -in what you see there. Janet Arnside made this camise, and Martha, the -laundry-maid, made that nightrobe. Joseph, the stableman, and Silas -bought the bit of lace on this. Edward bought this larger piece of -_punto in aria_ here. I made these with the _tela tirata_ work with my -own hands and I do hope you will like them.” - -“Indeed I do,” said Aline, bewildered as much by the demonstration -of widespread affection as by the altogether unexpected acquisition. -“Elspeth, you are a dear, and, oh, it is good of them, but what will -Mistress Mowbray say?” - -“Mistress Mowbray is not to know, that’s what they all said; if she -did, marry, she would say that we were all doited, and you would not -let her think that, would you, dearie?” said the old woman slyly. “You -will be careful not to get us into trouble, for we meant it kindly.” - -Aline was quite overcome and they went through every piece and learnt -its history. - -“I cannot help liking nice things,” said Aline. - -“And why should you not?” exclaimed the old woman; “it is only vulgar -when you put dress before other things or think about it every day. Old -Mistress Mowbray,--your grandmother, my dear,” turning to Audry, “used -often to say that it was the mark of a lady to dress well but simply -and not to think much about it.” - -“I should much prefer simple clothes except for great occasions,” said -Aline, “if only for the sake of making the great occasion more special; -but even then I like the rich broad effects that father used to talk -about with long lines and big masses and full drapery rather than -elaborate things. Some of these newer styles I do not like at all.” - -“Yes, I agree with you,” Audry chimed in, “but I should like to wear -velvet other than black, and I have always longed to have some ermine.” - -“Well, unless they alter the laws of the land for your benefit, -childie, you will have to marry a baron; but you should be thankful for -what you have got. I should soon be tried in the court[14] if I started -wearing black velvet,” said Elspeth. - - [14] The sumptuary laws regulated what each rank was allowed to wear. - -“Does your ambition soar to diamonds and pearls, Audry?” asked Aline, -laughing. - -“No, I will leave them to the princesses and duchesses. But look here, -Aline,” said Audry, with an air of triumph, picking up a particularly -beautiful smock, “I bought all the material with my own money and made -it every bit myself, and Elspeth says I have done it very well.” - -“You darling,” said Aline, and kissed her cousin again and again. “Oh, -I do feel so happy.” - -“But you have not finished,” said Audry, “and here’s a parcel you have -not undone.” - -Aline picked it up and turned it over. On it was written:--“From -Mistress Mowbray.” - -“A parcel from Mistress Mowbray; how strange!” and the little smooth -white brow became slightly wrinkled. - -Inside she found a note and a second wrapping. The note ran as -follows,-- - - To Aline Gillespie, - - Finding that others are concerned about your garments I have made - it my duty to let you have something really appropriate to your - condition at Holwick and that will express the feelings with - which I shall always regard you. I trust you will think of me - when you wear the necklace, although the contents of the pendant - are another’s gift. - - ELEANOR MOWBRAY. - X Her mark. - -“How does she regard me and what is appropriate to my condition?” -queried Aline as she undid the second wrapper. - -To her astonishment and amusement it contained an old potato-sack -made into the shape of a camise. After what Mistress Mowbray had said -about the coarse dowlas, Aline was half inclined to believe the gift -was genuine. But, as she smiled, there fell out a red necklace made of -small pieces of carrot with an enormous potato as a pendant. - -“Now, whoever has done this?” she cried, breaking into a merry peal and -looking at Audry and Elspeth. - -They both shook their heads. - -She examined the potato and found that it had been scooped out and held -a packet very tightly rolled up, within which was a piece of Walter’s -choicest lace. On the packet was written, “To Somebody from Somebody’s -enemy.” - -“From whose enemy?”--said Aline,--“Mine?” - -“‘Who chased whom round the walls of what?’” Audry observed. “I expect -the two somebodies are not the same.” - -“Well, but whom is it from?” - -At this moment Aline caught sight of the upper part of a head trying to -peep round the door. It vanished instantly. - -She paused for a moment and then gave chase down the newel-stairs. -Round and round and round lightly flashed the little feet and she -could hear great heavy footsteps at much longer intervals going down, -apparently three steps at a time, some way below her. - -She reached the bottom just in time to see the figure of Silas dash -into the screens; but he vanished altogether before she had time to -catch him and thank him for what was obviously his gift. - -The next day after dinner Aline ran out gaily across the quadrangle, -lightly reached the eighth step in two bounds, covering the remaining -step and the terrace in two more, and was in the library ready to -prosecute her search. She had a long hunt for the Latin Bible in which -after much diligence she was successful. - -She then thought that she would try the key of the old chest and on -opening it found it half full of ancient parchments concerning the -estate. She discovered that they were quite interesting, but she did -not linger looking at them just then. The chest was divided one-third -of the way from the front longitudinally up to about half its height -and it was possible to put all the parchments into the front half. - -Aline moved all the papers and then got into the back part of the chest -to see what it felt like, before she did anything else. Just as she did -so, she heard the library door open and her blood ran cold. In a flash -she wondered whether it would be better to get out of the chest or to -shut the lid. She decided on the latter, and was just able to shut -down the lid quietly when she heard the footsteps that had first gone -into the other part of the library turn back in her direction. She had -luckily taken the key in her hand with which the chest could be locked -on the inside and succeeded in fastening it with hardly any noise. - -The steps approached the chest and then a voice said, “I thought Aline -was in here;--and what was that noise?” - -It was Audry’s voice so Aline ventured to laugh. - -“Good gracious, what is that?” exclaimed Audry, and after a click the -lid of the chest, to her still greater astonishment, lifted itself up. -She sprang back and then in her turn broke into laughter, as Aline’s -head emerged from the chest. - -“What a fright you gave me!” said each of the children simultaneously, -and then they both laughed again. - -“You dear thing, Aline,” and Audry flung her arms round her cousin. -“Oh, I am glad that it is you, but you must be very careful about that -kist; I do not think that we had better use it unless one of us is on -guard. How did you find the key?” - -“Cousin Richard gave it me; I forgot to tell you, but he does not know -anything about the secret room as, oddly enough, he happened to say, -when speaking of secret drawers, that he did not think that old James -Mowbray had any fancies of that kind.” - -“He would have found that he had rather elaborate fancies of that kind -if he knew what we know, would he not, you little wonder-girl;--what -adventures you do have;--whatever will you drag me into next?” - -“Anyhow I never had adventures till I met you, so perhaps it is due to -you.” - -“Oh, no, you, not I, are the wonder-girl right enough; you have great -adventures by yourself.” - -“Let us come down and see Ian,” said Aline. - -“All right; you go down this way,” Audry replied. “I want to know how -it acts; I’ll wait to see you safe down and then I will go round the -other way.” - -“No, you would like to try the new way; I will go round.” - -“Thank you, very well.” - -A few minutes later the children met again in the secret room, and -Audry explained how simple and convenient the new way was. - -Aline then produced the Bible and after a little talk she read several -chapters, translating as she went. - -It was a new world to the children and Ian watched their faces eagerly -as she read. - -Audry, in her impulsive way, was taken with the simplicity of the -story. Aline, who was an unusually thoughtful child, was surprised, but -reserved her opinion. - -It was the beginning of many such readings. At first Ian said nothing; -but, when they had finished reading two of the gospels and began to -ask questions, he talked with them and explained many difficulties. -What amazed Aline was the entire absence of any allusion to any of the -ceremonial that had seemed to her young mind to form so large a part -of religion. Also the simplicity of the appeal, to come directly to -the divine without any intermediary, attracted her greatly in a way -that perhaps it would not have done when the old parish priest of her -earlier days was a really beloved friend. - -Ian was disturbed in mind; he saw that the children were gradually but -surely being influenced and that the old faith would never be the same -again. But it must mean trouble and affliction; the district where they -were was staunchly Catholic, and the measures that Mary’s advisers were -taking were stern and cruel. That little face with its associations of -bygone years, and its own magical attractive power that seemed to hold -all but a few of every one with whom Aline came into contact! How could -he bring lines of pain there? And yet how could he withhold what meant -so much to himself, this which seemed to be a new and living light? -Then that awful vision of George Wishart rose up again before him and -with a vivid intensity he thought he saw the form of little Aline -standing by him in the heart of the flames. There was too that awful -prophecy of the horrible old woman about Aline’s path being through the -fire. Surely there could be nothing in it? The perspiration stood on -Ian’s brow: he caught his breath. Slowly the vision cleared away and -there were the children seated before him. What if things, however, -should come to this! His very soul was in agony torn this way and that. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -“MOLL O’ THE GRAVES” - - -Holwick generally pursued the even tenour of its way from year’s end -to year’s end, with nothing more eventful than a birth, a death or a -marriage. Aline’s adventure therefore, was likely to remain a staple -topic of conversation for many years. But now there was a strange -feeling in the air as though something further were going to happen. An -atmosphere of uneasiness enveloped the place, an atmosphere oppressive -like a day before a thunderstorm. It was nothing definite, nothing -explicable, but every one seemed conscious of it; it pervaded Holwick, -it pervaded Newbiggin on the other side of the river. Ian and the -children were particularly aware of it. The placid life of the Tees -Valley was to be stirred by things at least as striking as Andrew’s -villainy. - -It might have been old Moll’s ravings, it might have been the stirrings -of religious troubles that had started the apprehension; but there it -was, something not immediate but delayed, a presentiment too vague even -to be discussed. - -One day Thomas Woolridge was walking down from the Hall through the -rocky ravine under Holwick Crags. It was a dull grey day with a strong -wind, and the rocks seemed to tower up with an oppressive austerity out -of all proportion to their size. He was in a gloomy frame of mind and -kicked at the stones in his path, sullenly watching them leap and bound -down the hill. - -“Steadily there, neighbour,” said a voice from below, “do you want to -kill some one?” and the head of Silas Morgan, the farm-reeve, appeared -above the rocks beneath. - -“Methinks I should not mind an I did,” answered Thomas, “provided it -were one of the right sort. I am tired of slaving away under other -folks’ orders. Who are they that they should have a better time than I -have, I should like to know?” - -“They all have their orders too, man; who do you think you are that you -should have it all your own way? There is Master Mowbray, now, who has -just set forth to York, because the Sheriff bade him.” - -“And a fine cursing and swearing there was too, I’ll warrant ye,” said -Thomas. “Master Mowbray doth not mince matters when he starts a-going.” - -“No, but he doth not pull a face as long as a base-viol. Thomas, if -so be that I had a face like yours, I would put my hat on it and walk -backwards. Be of good cheer, you rascal, no one doth as he pleaseth -from the Queen’s grace downwards.” - -“That may be so, neighbour, but you’ll not deny that some have an -unfair share of this world’s gear.” - -“No, by my troth, that is so; but I do not see how you are going to set -it right. Besides, oddsfish, man! you would never even get as large -a share as you do, you lazy varlet, if you got what was meet. I have -never seen you do a stroke of work that you could avoid”; and Silas -gave Thomas a dig in the ribs. - -“Here now, sirrah, you let me alone,” Thomas said gruffly. “Why should -we not all fare alike?” - -“All fare alike, old sulky face! Not for me, I thank you. I would -not work for a discontented windbag like you. What’s your particular -grumble just now?” - -“I’m not grumbling.” - -“Not at all, you are saying what a happy life it is, and how glad you -are to see your fellow creatures enjoying themselves.” - -Thomas lifted a stone and threw it, but Silas jumped aside and it flew -down the rocks. - -“I’m not grumbling so much at the Mowbrays, but at that -Gillespie-wench. There have always been Mowbrays up there; but that -wench, she has nothing of her own, why should she not addle her bread -the same as you or I. One day she had the impertinence to start -ordering me about and made old Edward and myself look a pair of fools. -The old ass did not mind, but I did and I am not going to forget. I am -sick of these craven villagers louting[15] and curtseying at the minx -and she no better than any of us. She gets on my nerves, pardy! with -her pretty angel face.” - - [15] The earlier form of curtsey. - -“Well, I am glad you admit you are grumbling at something, but you -have less cause to grumble at Mistress Aline than any one in Holwick, -you graceless loon. So here’s something else to grumble at”; and Silas -gave Thomas a sudden push which made him roll over, and then he ran off -laughing. - -“You unneighbourly ruffian. I’ll pay you out,” said Thomas, as he -ruefully picked himself up and started down the steep. - -He went on to the hamlet and, on his way back, he met Aline, who was -going down to see Joan Moulton. Beyond all expectations, by getting -Audry to sue for her, Aline had arranged that Joan should be moved to -Durham and she was going to pay her last visit. - -“It’s a fine day, Mistress Aline,” observed Thomas as he reached her. -“I hope you are keeping well. The falcon is doing splendidly, I notice. -I shall never forget your kindness to me. By the way, I found some -white heather the other day, and I meant to tell you I took up the root -and transplanted it in your garden.” - -“Oh, was that you, Thomas? You are good; I noticed it at once, but -somehow I thought it was Mistress Audry’s doings. I love white heather.” - -“I am fain it pleaseth you; well, good day, Mistress Aline, there is no -time to waste and some of us have to work very hard betimes.” - -On the way up to the Hall, just before he reached the crags of the -ravine he saw some one else. It was old “Moll o’ the graves.” - -“How now, neighbour,” he said, “I have not seen you for a long time, -but what’s the good of your hocus pocus? Where’s that fine hank of wool -I gave you, and those two cheeses and the boll of meal? That Gillespie -bitch is still running round; and you said that before a year was away -she would be gone. But Andrew’s little play didn’t work, damn the -fellow. She’s alive yet, I tell you,” and he put his hand on the old -woman’s shoulder as though to shake her. - -“Hands off, you coward,” said the old hag. “Why do you not do your own -dirty work? Andrew was worth half a dozen of you. Pah, you devil’s -spawn! If you touch me I’ll burn your entrails with fire, day and -night, and send you shrieking and praying for your own death. But I -tell you, that skelpie may not have to die by water. There are other -ways of dying than being drowned. I cannot read all the future, but -you mark my word, and I have never been wrong yet, she will be gone by -the time I named. Little Joan will go as I said; and if we are safely -rid of one you need not fear for the other. The stars in their courses -fight on our side,” and she laughed an evil laugh. “There is no room in -this world for your weak-minded gentle creatures, bah! cowards, worms, -with their snivelling pity. Does nature feel pity when the field mouse -is killed by the hawk? Does nature feel pity when a mother dies of the -plague? Does God feel pity when we starve a child or beat it to death? -Let him show his pity for the victims of disease, for the beings he -has brought into the world, humpbacked, blind, halt, imbecile, ha! ha! -ha! No, the forces on our side are the stronger, and the innocent, the -gentle and loving must go. I hate innocence, I hate love; and hate will -triumph in the end. - -“Do you think I love _you_, you coward?” and she advanced slowly -as though to clutch his throat with her skinny hand, laughing her -demoniacal laugh. “You are on our side, but you are a worm;--Thomas, I -spit at you, begone.” - -Thomas looked at her in terror and slunk away till the old woman’s -mocking laughter grew fainter. “Faugh! she was mad--mad--what did it -matter? And yet, suppose she took it into her head to put a spell on -him, the same as she had done on little Joan! What then? But he would -be even with Aline yet; Andrew was a clumsy bungler, he would see if he -could not secure a more efficient agent.” - -Thomas had allowed his imagination to dwell round his grievance against -Aline until it had grown to colossal dimensions. She could not even -smile on any one without him reckoning it up against her as an offence. -The thing was becoming an obsession with him. - -But what did the old crone mean? Something certainly was going to -happen; did it involve Thomas, or was he himself to be unaffected by -the play of forces? The feeling was unpleasant and he could not shake -it off. - -After meeting Thomas, Aline had gone on to Peter’s cottage. She found -that the dying child was weaker than ever, but she still seemed to -cling tenaciously to life. She raised herself a little when Aline came -in and her eyes shone with an unnatural brightness. - -“I shall never see you any more, Aline,” she said. “And I have several -things that I want to say to you. They are going to take me away. I -know they mean to be kind, yet I would rather have died quietly here. -But listen, it is not about that that I want to talk,” the child went -on excitedly. - -“Hush, dear,” said Aline, taking the small frail hand in her own and -stroking it, “you will tire yourself out.” - -“Can you put your hand under my pillow, Aline? You will find there a -little packet.” - -Aline did as she was asked. - -“Now undo it.” - -She opened the small parcel and found in it half a groat that had been -broken in two, a child’s spinning top and a short lock of dark curly -brown hair. - -“He was my playmate,” said Joan, “and he used to help me every day to -carry the water from the spring up to the house, and he said that when -he was a big man he would marry me. I know I am going to die soon and -no one loves me but you, so I want to give you my secret.” - -“O Joan, darling, you must not talk like that,” and Aline stooped and -kissed the sad little face on the pillow, while her tears, in spite of -herself, would keep welling up and rolling down her cheeks. - -A faint little smile spread over Joan’s face as her thoughts wandered -away back to the old times in Kirkoswald and talking half to herself -and half to Aline she said: “His name was Wilfred Johnstone. Oh! -Wilfred, Wilfred, if only I could kiss you good-bye! but I shall leave -your top and the half groat and your dear hair with my beautiful little -lady, and some day she may see you and give them back and say good-bye -for me.” - -“O Aline,” she went on, trying to raise herself as she put her arms -round her neck--“give him this kiss for me and say that if I had grown -up I would have been his little wife as I promised”; then, pressing a -kiss on Aline’s lips, she fell back exhausted on the bed. - -“I will do everything you ask,” said Aline, and sat by her for a long -time, but the child did not speak again. - -At last the evening began to get dark and Aline knew she must be -getting home. “Good-bye, sweet Joan,” she said and for the last time -printed a kiss on the child’s forehead. “I wish you could have said -good-bye,” and she turned to the door. - -As she turned Joan’s eyes half opened. “Good-bye,” she murmured, and -Aline went sadly from the house. - -“They are going to take her away from me and I believe I love her even -more than Audry, but it is all meant for the best. Oh, I hope and I -hope that that horrid old witch was not telling the truth.” - -Aline lay awake for a long time that night thinking of Joan and old -Moll and wondering how she would find Wilfred Johnstone; and when she -slept she still dreamed of her little friend. - -The next morning they carried Joan away on a litter. The journey was -to be made in three stages of a day each. Aline would have liked to -see her off, but unfortunately Master Richard had specially arranged -to take the children with him on a long expedition and make an early -start, and he did not wish any interference with his plans. - -He had been so very kind in making the elaborate arrangements about -Joan’s journey and future welfare that Aline did not like to say -anything, though it cost her a pang. - -They mounted from the old “louping on stone” in the lower courtyard and -were not long reaching Middleton. Master Richard had some business in -Middleton, and afterward they turned up the left bank of the Tees. - -It was another grey day, but the water looked wonderfully beautiful -down below them, and Holwick crags rose majestically away to the left. -The bleakness of the surrounding country enhanced the richness of the -river valley; but the wild spirit of the hills seemed to dominate the -whole. - -On the way they passed through the village of Newbiggin. It consisted -almost wholly of rude stone cottages and byres. “We have a great deal -of trouble here,” remarked Richard Mowbray. “They are a curiously -lawless lot; it is not only their poaching but there is much thieving -of other kinds. Their beasts too are a nuisance, straying, as they -pretend, on our Middleton property. A murrain on them! My tenant there, -Master Milnes, is very indignant about it and is sure that it is not -accidental. He also makes great complaint about continual damage to the -dykes. Mistress Mowbray is determined to have the whole nest of them -cleared out.” - -“But the village does not belong to you, does it, Cousin Richard?” - -“No, there are three properties besides mine that meet there, the Duke -of Alston’s, Lord Middleton’s and Master Gower’s.” - -“Then how are you going to do anything?” - -“Oh, Mistress Mowbray saw Lord Middleton, and he has arranged that his -reeve and the Duke’s shall come over to Holwick and meet Master Gower -and ourselves. I do not expect there will be any difficulty.” - -Aline thought it was rather a high handed proceeding, but she said -nothing. She looked at the little cottages and then her thoughts flew -over to the cottage on the other side of the river that Joan had just -left. She wondered rather pathetically whether nearly all life was sad -like her own and Joan’s and Ian’s. Did every one of these cottages -mean a sad story? It would certainly be a sad story to be turned out -of one’s home. Here was a new trouble for her. “Was it true,” she -thought, “that all these people were as bad as Cousin Richard supposed?” - -Suddenly Audry exclaimed, “Look--there goes old Moll.” - -As they overtook her she stopped and shook her staff after them, -crying,--“Maidens that ride high horses to-day eat bitter bread upon -the morrow.” - -Master Mowbray did not catch what she said, but Aline heard and again -felt that peculiar shudder that she could not explain. - -A week or two later the words came back to her with bitter meaning -indeed. Joan safely reached her destination and the first news that -came from Durham was hopeful; but shortly afterwards the news was worse -and then suddenly came word that she was dead. - -Aline put the little packet carefully away in the ambry. She did not -tell any one, not even Audry, but some day she hoped to carry out the -child’s request. There was too much misery in the world, she must see -what she could do. Perhaps she might begin by doing something for the -people of Newbiggin. At least she could find out what was the real -truth of the case. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS - - -It was a fine moonlight night and Ian was pacing up and down by the -side of the stream. He walked very fast, partly because the season was -getting cold and partly to calm his mind. He was agitated concerning -the future and troubled not only about himself but about Aline. He -was now distinctly better in health and felt that he would soon be -well enough to leave Holwick Hall. There were many difficulties. First -there was the immediate danger of getting away unseen. Then when he had -performed his mission in Carlisle there was the problem of the future. -He would be safer in Scotland, but he did not want to be too far away -from Aline. She might need his help. - -Again he felt that sense of apprehension, almost of terror; something -was going to happen, but what? Which way was he to meet it? This -threatening, uncertain atmosphere, what did it portend? - -Aline seemed touched by it. He had not spoken to her about it, but he -had noticed it in her manner; indeed they seemed mutually aware of it -as he looked into her eyes. - -In any case he could not go to his father’s house. Should he go to -Scotland at all? The country he knew was in great confusion, torn -between her fear of France and the Regent, Mary of Guise, on the one -hand and her hatred of England on the other. - -He was strongly tempted to go and fight, if fighting were to be done, -and the very documents that he carried might be the things that would -bring matters to a head. On the other hand if there were no fighting he -felt drawn to do something more for the faith. He had no home duties -and he hated inactivity. At last he settled the matter. Of course the -papers were to be safely delivered first, but neither the fighting -in Scotland nor Aline’s need for his help could be reckoned on as a -certainty. He would stay in Carlisle and be in reach of both. As for -the reformed faith he had for some time come to the conclusion that the -calling of a packman offered the best opportunities for spreading the -word. This, however, would require money which at present he had not -got. He would therefore try and find work as a smith or a carpenter in -Carlisle until he had saved the money. - -That matter was settled then; and his health was now such that his -departure must not be long delayed. He stood still and looked up at the -clear sky. The roar of the waterfall not half a mile away filled the -silence of the night. It was very peaceful and the hills were bathed in -a sad mysterious beauty. But through all the calm lurked a suggestion -of dread. - -Dare he leave the child behind at all? Yet if he took her he would be -putting her to greater risks every moment than the worst she could -suffer from Mistress Mowbray. Besides how could the expenses be met; -for the scheme would be impossible without horses; as, although he -himself could escape alone on foot, immediately Aline disappeared a hue -and cry would be raised? His mind grew tired with thinking and finally -he began to build wild castles in the air, in which he took the child -with him on foot and fought pursuer after pursuer, until he was slain -himself, not however before he had managed to put Aline into a sure -place of safety and happiness. - -He had wandered rather further than usual down the stream and decided -that he had better turn back; moreover it was late and it would soon be -daylight. He retraced his steps until he came within a few paces of the -opening that led to the cave and was intending to enter, when he caught -sight of a dark figure seated under a small birch tree that had found a -sheltering place in this hollow on the bleak moor. - -It was a woman and she was watching him. The shock was so sudden that -he had the greatest difficulty in preserving his presence of mind. He -decided to continue in the direction he was going as though bound on -some definite journey. - -“You like the night-air, stranger, for your travels,” she said in a -shrill voice. She evidently did not mean to let him pass her. - -“Ay, mother,” he said, “a night like this is as good for travel as the -day.” - -He gathered at once who it was from Aline’s description. It was “Moll -o’ the graves,” and she seemed to rivet him to the spot with the gaze -of her unholy, but still beautiful eyes. She was holding a bone in -her claw-like hands and was gnawing the flesh off it. He could not -help noticing that she yet had excellent teeth. Could she by any -chance know who he was? In any case she had seen him now, so he might -stand and see if he could draw her out. However, she went on,--“I’ve -heard physicians recommend the night air for travellers with a sick -conscience.” - -“Then if that be the case,” he answered, “it might apply to you as well -as to me.” - -“Perhaps it may,” she said, “but I enjoy the fresh night air for its -own sake:-- - - O Moon that watches from the sky, - We see strange things, the moon and I.” - -crooned the old woman, beating time with her staff. - -“Do you know this part of the world?” she said suddenly. - -“I cannot say that I do,” he answered. - -“Then you miss things that are worth knowing. There are all manners -of folk about here from the Master of Holwick to miser Simson, from -bullying Eleanor Mowbray to gentle Janet Arnside, and from tough, -withered, bloodless old Elspeth to fresh tender morsels like Aline that -dropped in the moat,” she said as she grinned, shewing her teeth, “and -I know the fortunes of them all.” - -The old woman was eyeing him keenly, but he managed to betray no -particular interest. - -He thought, however, that he had better move away lest she should ask -him such questions that he would lose more than anything he would gain -from talking to her. He was thankful she had not seen him go into the -cave. - -“I think I must be moving on,” he said. - -“Will you not wait and hear your future told?” - -“No, I thank you; that can bide.” - -“It’s not good anyhow,” said old Moll with a vindictive light in her -eyes, “it begins with heartache and goes on to worse.” - -“Good night to you,” said Ian and started up the gully. - -“Are you not coming back to your hiding place in there?” the old woman -called maliciously. “I saw you come out and I shall be sitting here -till you come back.” - -“Horrible old villain,” he said to himself, but he called out, “No, -it’s all right for a temporary shelter, but no one could stay there.” - -Things indeed looked serious, how was he to get back? But he could not -bear the thought of not saying good-bye to the children. Besides they -absolutely must know that part of their secret had been discovered. - -He decided that unless the old hag roused his pursuers he was fairly -safe; he could keep out of sight in bog-holes or the like during the -day. If some one came very near, he must chance it and move on. True -there was some risk, but Aline must know. - -The old woman was in the hollow where she could not see him; so he -crept round and hid himself where he could watch without being observed. - -When daylight came he saw her rise and go into the outer cave; but he -could not see what further she did. - -She then came back and sat down. Hours passed on, but she did not move. -About mid-day she produced a small sack from under her kirtle and -took something out and gnawed at it as before. She did the same again -towards evening. - -Ian felt faint and hungry, but determined not to give in, even if he -had to wait another night, though as he would have to go some twenty -miles before he dared ask for food, his plight was becoming desperate. - -He crept quite close to her on the bare chance of her going to sleep in -such a way that he could be quite sure of it and be able to slip past. - -However, toward sunset he heard her mutter to herself,--“Well, I cannot -wait any more, it will be too cold.” She rose and hobbled over to -the cave, where she broke down a light switch and bent it across the -entrance, as though it had accidentally been done by the wind or some -animal. - -She started a step or two down the little gully and then came back to -her resting place and looked about. She picked up three bones. “They -might tell tales,” she murmured, and, hiding them under her mantle, she -walked down toward the river. When she reached the river she threw the -bones into the dark water and watched them sink. But this Ian did not -see. - -When Moll had gone, Ian went back to the secret room. He was -overwrought. This was a new peril for Aline and it made him grasp -what he had not realised before,--that if the children were caught -harbouring a heretic the consequences would be terrible indeed. He must -get away forthwith. - -He went to bed, but he could not sleep. How far had he really been wise -after all, to say anything to Aline about the new faith? She certainly -was a most unusual child, but perplexities and responsibilities might -even be too much for an adult. - -Was not my first instinct right, he argued, children are too delicate, -too frail, too beautiful to be flung into the anxieties of life? -There is a good deal to be said even for the priests, he reflected, -responsibility may become too crushing altogether. - -Then too, his own mind was not at ease about the course that things -were taking, either in Scotland or England. On the whole he felt that -the Protestants were nearer the truth, but there was a beauty and a -spirituality of holiness not unconnected with the beauty of holiness -itself, which he saw in the old faith and which he was not willing to -abandon. - -“I would not have a faith without beauty,” he said; “it would be a -travesty of faith, an unlovely thing and no faith at all. If we do not -consider the lilies which we have seen, we shall certainly never be -able to understand the King in his beauty whom we have not seen; and, -of a surety, this child flower hath lifted me higher than any other -experience of my life.” - -But methinks it is meet that both sides should be presented, and some -day we may grow broad-minded enough to learn each from the other. - -He lay awake most of the night so that when the children came down in -the evening he was looking tired and worn. - -They came in slowly, very downcast and sad. Suppose that Ian had -disappeared for good and that they would never see him again! He was -seated where they could not see him at once, but when they caught sight -of him they both rushed forward. - -“Oh, you are here safe and sound; what has happened? I am so glad,” -said both in a breath. Each child flung her arms round him and kissed -him. - -“You will pull my head off if you are not careful,” he said, laughing. - -“Oh, you did give us a terrible fright,” exclaimed Aline. - -“Yes, we came and found the room empty,” said Audry, “and we hunted -all down the passage to the cave room; and I wanted to go through, but -Aline said, ‘No, there is evidently something wrong and it might not be -safe, we had better come round outside.’” - -“I am glad you were cautious,” Ian interposed. - -“But first we went down the other passage and found nothing, and then -we set out. Aline said we must be very careful in coming near the cave, -so we crept round very slowly; and suddenly, what do you think we saw?” - -“Well, what did you see?” - -“We saw ‘Moll o’ the graves,’” said Aline, “and we stooped down at once -and then ran away. She did not see us, as the back of her head was -turned our way.” - -“I’m thankful for that,” said Ian, and then recounted his experiences. -He omitted the bone incident, but concluded by saying,--“We must be -careful about that birch twig. She evidently set it as a trap.” - -“Do you suppose that she discovered the inner cave, the cave room -itself?” asked Audry apprehensively. - -“Not at all likely,” said Ian. “She cannot stand up straight even; -besides she was not there long enough; of that I am certain.” - -Audry gave a sigh of relief. - -“But she may tell other people,” said Ian. “You must keep your ears -open very carefully.” - -It was an awe inspiring prospect, the future certainly was not -reassuring. - -In order to give a new turn to the conversation Aline said:--“Do you -know, the day before yesterday I went over to Newbiggin and talked -to several of the people? I did not ask any questions, but they told -me a great deal of themselves. There evidently are some pretty fair -scoundrels in the village, even on their own showing.” - -“What are you going to do?” said Ian. - -“I do not know yet,” she said, “I must find out some more, but I am -tolerably sure that the villains are in the minority.” - -“I do not suppose there is much to choose,” said Audry. “I should let -them all go. Why trouble yourself?” - -“But, Audry,” Aline objected, “you yourself hate unfairness; and I -cannot bear to think of Mistress Mowbray having her own way with those -who are innocent.” - -“I think, also, my princess enjoys some other kinds of fighting than -with foils,” Ian interposed. - -“Well, perhaps there’s a little bit in that too; my father was a -fighter.” - -“Somehow, little one,” said Ian, “I cannot help wishing you would -leave it alone. I feel you would be better to have nothing to do with -Newbiggin. It sounds very silly, but old Moll lives in Newbiggin, and I -have a strange dread of it that I cannot explain.” - -“That is very curious,” said Audry, “so have I. There has been -something weighing on me like a bad dream for many days. I cannot -explain it. Aline, dear, you let it alone.” - -“I wish you two would not talk like that,” said Aline, “because I have -had exactly the same feeling and it is most uncanny; but I cannot give -up the Newbiggin people because of my feelings.” - -“Come, let us have some fun,” she continued; “we look as if we had not -a backbone among us.” - -She went to the sword-chest as she spoke and took out a pair of foils. -“Now, this will do my stiffness good, and Audry can act as umpire.” - -They had a good deal of practice since the first encounter. Ian was -really a brilliant master of the art and was much amused at the way -that Aline had completely hoaxed him. Aline made rapid progress and Ian -used to tell her that, child as she was, she would probably be able -to account for a fairly average swordsman, so little was the art then -understood in Scotland or England. - -After a bout or two, they sat down to rest. - -“You know,” said Ian, “I think I ought to be leaving you soon. I am -ever so much better than I was and it would be well for me to be away.” - -“Why,” said Audry, “are you not comfortable here?” - -“Of course I am comfortable,” he said, “but I cannot stay here forever, -it would not be fair to you. Besides it is time that I was doing my -work in the world.” - -“But it would be terribly risky,” said Audry, “and after the narrow -escape you had, I think you might consider you had done your share.” - -“No, because I feel that I have something so valuable for people, that -it is worth any risk.” - -“But look how you have suffered and you will bring the same suffering -to others; in fact you hesitated about telling us.” - -“But that was because you are children, and somehow I do not feel that -a child is called upon to undertake such great responsibilities.” - -“I do not see why a child should not judge,” said Aline; “it is all so -simple and beautiful. If it is worth dying for, people should be glad -to have it, whatever the suffering. I think I feel ready to die like -poor George Wishart. So if your going helps other people, even if it -makes us very sad you must go. When do you think you ought to start?” - -“I have a definite errand to undertake. I have never told you about it, -but I am acting as a special messenger with some important papers, and -I have been thinking it over and have come to the conclusion that I -should be leaving here in a week at most, but less if possible.” - -“What, so soon?” exclaimed both the children at once. - -A deeper gloom than ever seemed to fall over the party as this was -said, and although they tried to feel cheerful, they knew it was a poor -attempt. No one spoke for a long time. Ian sat with his head between -his hands and Aline gazed into the empty fireplace at the dead ashes of -the fire that had been lit when Ian came. - -These days with Ian had made the Holwick life far more bearable for -her. There were her Greek lessons and the fencing lessons, but bad as -it would be to lose them it would be worse to lose her friend. He was -generally very reserved with her; but if she was in trouble he always -opened out. She glanced up. Ian had lifted his head and their eyes met. -What would she do without him? - -Audry held one of the foils and drew with it on the floor. The silence -was oppressive. - -At length Aline spoke. “Where shall you go, when you leave us? You -cannot think how sadly we shall miss you.” - -“I shall probably miss you more than you will miss me, sweet child,” -and Menstrie looked at her with a strange longing pain in his heart. -It was thirteen years since any one person had filled his life as -this child had done, and now he was to lose her. “Surely,” he said to -himself, “life is compact of most mysterious bitterness”; but he tried -to be cheerful for the child’s sake and said, “Never mind, Aline, I -shall come and see you again. I think I shall try and become a packman -like your friend who gave you your necklace, if I can get some money -somehow to begin, and then I can pay many visits to Holwick. I believe -I could disguise myself well enough, as I do not think that any one -here really knows me,--the few that saw me will have forgotten me. We -can meet in this room and I shall be able to bring you news and some -interesting things from far away.” - -“Yes, do bring me a chatelaine,” said Audry. “I have always wanted one -and Father has either forgotten or been unable to get it.” - -“Is there anything you would like, birdeen?” said Ian, addressing Aline. - -Aline thought for a moment; why should he bring her things, he was -obviously poor and never likely to be anything else? What was the -younger son of a yeoman who had been a wanderer, a smith and a soldier -of fortune ever likely to have in the way of money? Even her own father -who had been a small Laird had never been able to purchase her the -necklace that he had so desired to do. “I do not want you to bring me -anything,” she answered finally, “if only you can keep yourself safe,” -and then she added hesitatingly, “Would a Greek Testament be expensive?” - -“No, not at all,” said Ian. “Would you like one, little angel?” - -“Yes, very much indeed; but oh, I am afraid it will be a long time -between one visit and the next, and we shall not know what has become -of you,” and Aline sighed. - -“I think I could write to you sometimes,” he said. “We might get hold -of Walter Margrove, who suggested something of the sort to you, and for -greater security we could make duplicates of the parchment with the -holes that you found in the book. I could write the letter so that it -looked like an announcement of my wares.” - -They discussed the matter for some time and the next day set about -making the parchment slips, and for the following few evenings they -were busy with several preparations. Ian’s clothes all had to be mended -and put in good order and they took some of the clothes that they had -found in the secret room and by slight alterations were able to make -him a second outfit. - -They also found a leathern wallet that with a little patching made a -sound serviceable article. - -Ian further made a suggestion to Aline in case they should have reason -to suspect that the key to their correspondence was known. “Let us take -your name and mine,” he said, “to make the foundation of a series of -letters and we will write the names downward like this-- - - A - L - I - N - E” - -“Yes, and what next?” said Aline. - -“Well, after each letter, we will write in order the letters in the -alphabet that follow it. After A we will write B C D E F G, and after -L we will write M N O P Q R, and whenever we get to Z we start the -alphabet again. So if we write our whole names it will look like this-- - - A. B C D E F G - L. M N O P Q R - I. J K L M N O - N. O P Q R S T - E. F G H I J K - G. H I J K L M - I. J K L M N O - L. M N O P Q R - L. M N O P Q R - E. F G H I J K - S. T U V W X Y - P. Q R S T U V - I. J K L M N O - E. F G H I J K - I. J K L M N O - A. B C D E F G - N. O P Q R S T - M. N O P Q R S - E. F G H I J K - N. O P Q R S T - S. T U V W X Y - T. U V W X Y Z - R. S T U V W X - I. J K L M N O - E. F G H I J K - -Now there are 25 letters in each column, and if we just put a number at -the top of our communication, we shall know where we are to begin to -use the sequence.” - -“I see,” said Aline, “if the number is 51 we shall begin at the top of -the third column; if it is 56 we shall begin 6 letters down the third -column.” - -“And if it was 176,” said Ian, “what should we do?” - -“Well, we should have to make another column the same way and we should -begin at the top of it.” - -“Now suppose the number is 1, we shall then begin at the very -beginning, and the way we should use the letters would be like this. -Suppose this is the message,-- - - “Arthur Melland wishes to notifie the good people in the Lothians - of the lasting excellence of his wares. His pack is regularly - filled with all the newest materials and, too, all is most - marvellously finished in design. - -Our first letter was A, and the first A we find is the A of ‘Arthur.’ -Our second letter was L, and the next L that we find is in ‘Melland.’ -Our third letter was I and the next I that we find is in ‘wishes.’ Our -fourth letter was N and the next N that we find is in ‘notifie.’” - -“Oh, that’s quite easy,” said Aline, “and so you mark them all like -this-- - - “_A_rthur Me_l_land w_i_shes to _n_otifi_e_ the _g_ood people - _i_n the _L_othians of the _l_asting _e_xcellence of hi_s_ - wares. His _p_ack _i_s r_e_gularly f_i_lled with _a_ll the - _n_ewest _m_at_e_rials a_n_d, too, all i_s_ mos_t_ ma_r_vellously - f_i_nished in d_e_sign. - -and then cut them out.” - -“Yes,” said Ian, “and the only other thing necessary is that the paper -should first be neatly ruled with quarter inch squares, and each of -the key letters carefully written in a square. It does not matter about -the others. But then when the receiver gets the letter he knows that -the squares to be cut must be exactly an even number of quarter inches -from the edge of the paper.” - -“I hope I shall remember it if needful,” Aline said. - -“I don’t,” said Audry. - -“Why not?” exclaimed the others in astonishment. - -“Because I hope it won’t be needed and that would certainly be -simpler.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -GOOD-BYE - - -The days slipped by all too quickly and the children spent every -available moment in the secret room. But it was not very safe for them -to disappear from sight too often and moreover, other obligations had -to be fulfilled. Sometimes they were able to arrange that one should -remain with Ian while the other was occupied elsewhere. - -On one of these occasions, while Audry was in the secret room, Aline -went down to the Arnsides. On the way she met Father Laurence coming -up from Middleton. It was an unusual thing for him to come to Holwick -and Aline was surprised. “Good day, Father,” she said, as she dropped a -curtsey. - -“Bless you, my child,” said the old man, looking at her keenly, “talium -enim est regnum dei,”[16] he whispered softly to himself. “How profound -Our Lord’s sayings were. Yes, it does one good even to look at a -child,” and then he noticed that Aline seemed sad and troubled and -lacked her usual buoyant vivacity. “Are you not happy, little maiden?” -he said gently. - - [16] For of such is the kingdom of God. - -Aline looked at him with an expression of wonder; “No, not exactly,” -she said. - -“What is it, my child?” - -“Oh, many things, Father; the world is difficult.” - -They had drawn near to the side of the road and Aline was leaning -against the wall; she plucked the top of a tall ragwort and began -pulling off its yellow petals one by one. - -The priest put his elbow on the wall and looked down at her. He was -very tall indeed, with a rather thin face and deep sad eyes. He at once -saw that she did not want to tell him her troubles and he had too much -instinctive delicacy to press the child. He laid his disengaged hand -kindly on her head, and she looked up at him. - -“Strange,” he thought, “I might have had such a child of mine own; but -no, it was not to be. Yes, I know what sorrow is: I have indeed made my -sacrifice. - -“All things work together for good, Aline,” he said aloud, “the forces -of good must win in the end, but the powers of darkness are strong and -the victory may be long delayed; yet it will come.” - -“But the world is cruel, Father,” said Aline. - -“Yes, my child, I know, and the world often seems to be victorious; but -it is only victorious in the things of the world. The principle of love -and the principle of beauty will outlast the world,” and he smiled a -sweet smile. - -Aline gazed into his face and he seemed to be looking into the things -beyond. - -“Be of good courage, little maiden, fear not them that have power to -hurt the body. The Lord be with you, and may the Mother of God watch -over you; farewell.” - -He turned as he spoke and Aline saw him cross over to the cottage of -Benjamin Darley. She went on to the Arnsides and found both mother and -son at home. - -“Ah, Honey,” said the old woman, “it is good to see your bonnie face, -it’s a sight for sair een.” - -“Mistress Aline is not looking very well, mother,” said John. - -“Nonsense, John,” said Aline, and added brightly,--“I have come to ask -you all you can tell me about Newbiggin. I know I can trust you.” - -“Dear heart,” said Janet, “you do us honour.” She skilfully lifted the -peats with the long tongs and rearranged them on a different part of -the hearth and soon there was a bright fire. - -“That’s a merry blaze,” said Aline; “it seems to cheer one’s heart.” - -For an hour they sat and talked about Newbiggin; and the child, with -what she already knew, was able to make a shrewd estimate of the true -state of affairs. - -After a while the subject not unnaturally turned to “Moll o’ the -graves” and Aline was dismayed when she heard that Moll had been -talking about seeing a man on the moors, and saying that it would be -the beginning of troubles. - -“What did she mean by that?” asked Aline. - -“She would not explain,” said Janet; “she refused to tell any one -anything more. ‘The time is not yet, the time is not yet,’ she kept -repeating; ‘when all is ready and I have discovered the workings of the -fates, I will tell you more than you wish to know.’” - -“People have gossiped about it a great deal,” Janet went on, “but Moll -will say nothing further.” - -“I trust that her evil desires may be foiled,” said Aline, “but I must -not tarry.” - -As she went up the street she again met Father Laurence coming out of -Peter’s cottage and he seemed more sorrowful than ever. - -“Peace be with you, Aline,” he said. “I have a right melancholic thing -here,” holding out a letter. “But it cannot grieve thee beyond what -thou already knowest. It is a letter from Durham, long delayed in -transit, concerning the death of little Joan. Will you read it or shall -I?” - -Aline’s eyes filled with tears, “I should like you to read it,” she -said. - -Father Laurence then read-- - - “To Peter Simson in Holwick - - “It beseemeth me to send thee word, although my heart is right - heavy within me, of the passing of the small damsel y-cleped[17] - Joan, who came from Upper Teesdale. Of this you will have already - heard: but my sister was herself sick of an ague at the time and - Sir Robert Miller, her confessor, saith that her mind wandered. - He writeth this for me. She herself lingered not many days,--God - rest her soul,--and, when I came from Skipton, where I dwelled, - she was buried. - - “I only know from a neighbour that the damsel had gained health - until latterly and that the end was on a sudden. She spake much - of the young lady at the Hall, who had given her great bounty; - and in especial would she have the shoon and the belt returned, - which were new. But these same I cannot find, and methinks they - must have gone to Newcastle with the other orphans who were in my - sister’s house, and whom the good dame who came thence to nurse - my sister, took home in her charge, and may our Lady requite her - kindness. - - “An thou wouldst speak to the Mistress Alice or Ellen,--the name - escapeth me,--I would give thee much thanks. - - “ELIZABETH PARRY.” - - [17] Named. - -“But I never gave her any shoes or belt,” said Aline. “Poor little -Joan, her mind must have failed her at the last, or Mistress Parry -must have been as much in error as she was about my name. She was a -dear child,” she continued, “and it is bitter dole[18] to me. I have -burned a few candles for her soul, but I have not much means.” - - [18] Grief. - -“Trouble not thy gentle heart,” said the old priest, “I will myself say -mass for the child, and no one shall be at any charge. God keep thee, -Aline, as he may.” - -When she reached the Hall she went to Ian and Audry and told them what -she had learned, and they were much disquieted at the evil speaking of -old Moll; but there was nothing that they might do and they could only -hope against hope. - -Ever since hearing the letter that Father Laurence had read, the sad -figure of little Joan had floated before Aline’s eyes, and that night -she went to the library and opened the ambry and took out the little -packet and gazed at the pathetic contents. “I wonder whether I shall -ever be able to find the boy, Wilfred Johnstone,” she said. “But I -expect he will have forgotten already, boys never remember long,” and -then she recalled a remark of her father’s,--“A boy remembers longer -and is more constant than a girl, unless he has won her; but after she -is won she is the more faithful.” “I should like to know if that be -true,” she thought. - -At length the evening came when Ian had to start. It was a fine bright -night as the three made their way down the secret passage for the last -time. - -“How strange it has all been,” said Aline, “since we first discovered -the secret room and this passage. What a different thing life means to -me from what it did then!” She was leading the way carrying the wallet -containing the food, while Audry carried a staff and a big heavy cloak. - -“It has been a wonderful time for me,” said Ian, “and I can never -realise to the full the marvellousness of my escape or your great -kindness to me. I feel that God must have arranged it all, just because -it is so strange. I seem to have every little incident written in -undying characters in my mind, and I could recall almost every word of -your conversations with me. Even if we never meet again, you will live -with me always.” - -“Oh, but you will come back and we shall meet again,” Audry -interrupted, “you must not talk like that.” - -“I hope that I shall,” he said, but the tone of his voice was so sad -that no one spoke again till they came to the cave-room. - -They lifted the stone and Ian climbed down first and then lifted the -two through the opening. As he held Aline in his arms a great wave -of feeling nearly overcame him altogether. For the moment he felt as -though he could not put her down; it was like voluntarily parting with -all that made life precious. He clasped her tightly to him for a moment -and then he set her very gently on her feet. It was not too dark to see -her face, and as he looked at it he realised that he had never seen it -more sad and yet it had never looked more beautiful. The light was not -bright enough to see the colour, but he could just discern something -of its richness in the gleam of her thick long wavy hair, reaching far -down below her waist. They all found it very difficult to speak and -the children wished him a safe journey and a happy issue with very -trembling voices. - -“Think of me sometimes,” he said, “when I am gone, and pray for me. May -God be with you and do more than I can ever ask in my feeble prayers.” - -He kissed both the children, and holding Aline’s little face in both -his hands he said,--“Oh, if I could only do something for you, little -one, I could be happy, no matter what it cost. Somehow I feel that we -shall never meet again in spite of what Audry says; still that does -not make it impossible for me to do something for you. Remember that I -shall always be living in the hope that some such chance may come and -that the greatest pleasure you can give me is to let me use myself in -your service. But now I must go.” He kissed her once again and then -took the cloak, staff and wallet and strode into the darkness; which -soon closed round him and hid him from their sight. - -After he had gone a hundred yards or so across the moor, he paused; it -was almost more than he could bear; so he knelt down and prayed that -all good things might come to Aline and, if it were not selfish to ask -it, that it might be given to him to suffer on her behalf,--some pain, -some sacrifice, some physical or mental anguish, that might directly -or indirectly add to her joy or lessen her sorrow. After this he felt -strengthened and even elated at the thought of the suffering that he -hoped would come. It was not enough to give her happiness, the more it -would cost him, the more he would welcome it. - -He walked as fast as the light and the nature of the ground would -permit, and when the morning dawned he had passed the wild cataract of -Caldron Snout and was on the spurs of Knock Fell. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE TERROR OF THE MIST - - -It was a raw, damp morning and the day struggled up with difficulty. -Ian was very tired as it was long since he had made any continuous -physical effort and, anxious as he was to make progress, he felt that -he must rest. He sat down by a stream and opened his wallet and broke -his fast, while he thought out what would be the best road for him to -take. So far he had been sure of the way from Audry’s description, -but he was a little more doubtful about his ability to find the route -further on and yet, if possible, he did not wish to ask questions of -any one he met. He was just able to distinguish the sun rising through -the mist and hoped that the day would brighten. From this he calculated -that the wind which was very steady was from the northwest. - -He knew that, when they were hunting him before, a description of -him had been sent as far as Alston and Kirkoswald; so he determined -to try and reach Carlisle without going through these places. In -Carlisle people had more things to think about; and the incident of his -escape, even if news of it had travelled so far, would by this time -be forgotten. Moreover a stranger in the great border town would not -arouse any curiosity. - -He therefore decided that he would keep along by the highest ground -following the ridge of summits. This he knew would ultimately bring -him to Cold Fell, where the drop on every side is very marked and -whence, if he had not seen Carlisle itself before, he could drop down -by Naworth or Brampton. - -After a long rest he turned up the steep. Unfortunately the mist, -instead of lifting, grew thicker until he had nothing to guide him -but the wind and the general lie of the ground. Used as he was to the -hills, he always felt the eeriness of the mist seething and curling and -scurrying over the heather. It was bitterly cold as the wind was strong -and the mist grew so thick that he could only see the ground for a few -paces. He was afraid of coming suddenly upon the precipice of some -corrie or cross-gully. He had heard too of the terrible “pot” holes in -the limestone district, and pictured himself falling down into one of -those black bottomless chimneys, where even his body would never be -seen again. - -He decided to strike straight up for the top, even though it was more -fatiguing, and he followed the steepest line of the ground, scrambling -over the rocks where necessary. He started violently as he suddenly -heard the scream of an eagle somewhere near him in the mist, and later -on he was surprised actually to come upon one tearing the body of a -grouse. The great bird rose and hit him, whether intentionally or not -he was not sure, but he shrank involuntarily and the sight of the small -mangled victim stirred his heart. “Why was the world of birds and men -so essentially cruel?” “Poor little Aline,” he thought, as he looked at -the little bird. - -When at last he reached the height he was met by an icy wind of -tremendous force from the weather side of the hill and it was only -with extreme difficulty that he could keep his footing. Using the wind -as his guide he decided on a place where the gradient was less and the -direction right as far as he could judge and trusted that this would be -the col between the summits. - -It was anxious work and at last he began to feel that he had descended -too far. He had missed the col. He was lost. Although better in health -his nerves were still shaken. For a moment he half broke down. “Oh, -if I could only see you once again, Aline,” he cried, “and you will -never know that months afterwards the shepherds found the remains of -an unknown man upon the hills.” He peered into the mist as though by -strength of will he would force its secret. It was vain, the mist was -blankly impenetrable. Under ordinary circumstances he was too good -a hillsman to mind and would simply, worse come to the worst, have -followed down stream till he came to the haunts of men, but it was a -matter of life and death to him now not to come down the wrong valley. -Moreover, there were the precious papers, for which he had already -risked so much. - -Gradually he recovered, but what was he to do? Which side had he gone -wrong? He stood and reflected for a moment. The direction of the wind -seemed all right, but it was very much less in force. Surely then he -was to the east of the col. Oh, if only the mist would lift, but it -still raced past, with its white swirling, cruel fingers. The wind -sighed sadly in the rank, red tinted grass, and away below he heard the -falling of many waters and the endless bleating of sheep. Every now and -then some gigantic menacing forms would seem to shape themselves out -of the mist;--they danced round him, they pointed at him, they mocked -him. They were trolls, they were the spirits of death, the lost souls -of the sons of men. A brooding horror seemed to sweep over the desolate -hillside, chilling him with a nameless dread. He turned a little -further into the wind and the ground grew more wet and mossy. This must -surely be somewhere below the middle of the col, he argued, and he -struck still more to the left. - -Suddenly he came upon a sight that froze his marrow. It was the -skeleton of a child,--some poor little wanderer who, like himself, had -been lost and who never had returned home. The wind whistled through -the small slender bones. They were quite clean, save for a little hair -clinging to the skull, from which Ian guessed that it was a boy. He -might have been ten or twelve years old. How had he come there? What -had brought him to his fate? The clothes had entirely gone save one -little shoe. Ian picked it up, looked at it and shivered. Oh, the -horror of it! Then the mood changed and he found himself filled with -unutterable pity. “Poor child, poor child,” he said; “another victim -of a heartless world.” He knelt down and laid his hand on the small -skull and his emotion overcame him. Then he gathered the bones together -and carried them to a small hollow under a great rock. As he was doing -this, his fingers came across something in the grass. It was a small -wallet or purse. When he had taken all the bones he managed with some -difficulty to cover them with earth and then he built up a little cairn -of stones. The small shoe he put with the bones, but the wallet he took -with him. - -With very mingled feelings he struggled up the slope and at last to -his great relief he felt the icy blast of the northwest wind, with -the ground sloping upward in the right direction. He decided to make -for the very summit, the better to check his position, and at last he -reached the point and then cautiously made his way in the same manner -to what he believed was Cross Fell. - -It was very slow work and the ground was very wet and heavy; he was -footsore and stiff from lack of practice and when the evening began to -close in he had made absurdly little headway. - -At last he felt he could go no further and must spend the night upon -the hills. He climbed over the ridge to the leeward side and dropped -until he came to the heather line, where he found a dry hollow between -some rocks. Tearing up a quantity of heather he made himself a bed to -lie on and sat down on the soft extemporised couch. Then he opened the -little wallet or pouch that he had found by the skeleton. It contained -some knuckle bones and a piece of cord; but with them was a wonderful -bracelet of peculiar workmanship. Ian judged it to be Keltic of a very -remote date as it somewhat resembled work that a friend had found in -the Culbin sands. An inscription and other alterations had been made at -a later date. - -The design was in bold curving shapes that expressed the very spirit -of metal. Most remarkable were three large bosses of a strange stone -of marvellous hue; they were a deep sky-blue, brilliantly clear and -transparent, but with a slight yet most mysterious opalescence in the -colour. He had never heard of such a stone and there was something -almost uncanny about the way they shone in the dim light. Whether they -were original or substitutes for enamel or amber he could not tell. - -The inscription ran:-- - - WOE TO WHO STEALETH ME - PEACE TO WHO FINDETH ME - BUT WEAL WHERE I COME AS A GIFT OF LOVE. - -It was a marvellously beautiful thing and Ian could not help -speculating how the boy had come by it. “If these charms and amulets -really had any power, he might well have stolen it,” he thought, -shuddering at what he had seen. “But that is a thing we shall never -know. However, it would be a pleasing gift for Aline, and some day I -will clasp it myself on that little white wrist.” - -He pictured Aline to himself wearing the bracelet and then rolling his -cloak about him went to sleep. - -For a few hours he slept well and then he woke with the cold. He was -very tired and sleepy but unable to sleep again for the pains which -shot through him. The miserable night seemed endless, he tossed and -dozed and tossed again, but at last the dawn broke. It was still misty -but he was anxious to get on. He opened his wallet and found it was -getting low; there was enough for two fair meals, but he divided it -into three portions and took one. - -The wind had dropped but he had taken the precaution of marking its -direction on the ground before he slept. However, that would not avail -him long. He wondered what Aline was doing. He was sure that somehow -Providence had intended him to help her. Suppose he had done wrongly -and should meet his death and deprive her of his aid! Why was life so -continually perplexing? - -When he started to move, his swollen blistered feet made every step -painful, but gradually he became more used to it and struggled on -mechanically. - -He was going very slowly, although it was down hill, and it was with -joy that in rather less than four hours he came across a mountain track -running according to his guess east and west. “This must surely be the -road from Alston to Kirkoswald,” he said, and feeling more or less -reassured he sat down. But he was so worn out from fatigue and lack of -sleep that he almost at once fell into a deep slumber. - -When he awoke he found a shepherd-boy looking at him. “You sleep -soundly, Master,” he said; “whither are you bound?” - -“I am going to Carlisle,” he answered. - -“I have been in Carlisle once,” said the boy. “It’s a fine town, with -bonnie sights; but that was not yesterday. I spend all my time with the -sheep and it is rarely that I get a chance for such things. No, it’s -not much pleasure that they let come my way,” he added dolefully. - -Ian looked at the boy, who had a fine face and was well proportioned -in length of limbs and figure, but thin and ill nourished, with hollow -cheeks and angular shoulders. “I am afraid they do not feed you over -well,” he remarked. - -“Not they,” said the lad,--“I get my brose in the morning and none too -much of that and then generally I get some more brose in the evening.” - -“Do you get nothing all day?” said Ian. - -“Why, no,” he replied. - -“Would you like something to eat now?” - -The boy’s eyes lit up as Ian undid his wallet. “Surely,” he said. - -Ian gave him all that the wallet contained and smiled with pleasure as -he watched the boy ravenously devour every morsel. It was the first -glow of satisfaction that Ian had had since he left Holwick. - -As the boy munched away Ian thought he might get what information he -could; at least he would know how much more road there was before him, -which was advisable now that he had nothing whatever left to eat. - -“Do you know the names of the hills?” he asked casually, as though -hunting for a topic of conversation. - -“Why, of course,” said the boy. “Black Fell is up that way and Cross -Fell is over there. If it was a clear day you could see the hills in -the west too, Skiddaw and Blencathara and Helvellyn, and all the rest -of them. - -“I wish I was going with you to Carlisle,” he added somewhat wistfully; -“a city is better than the hills; not that I do not love the hills,” -he continued, “but an apprentice gets more to fill his stomach than a -shepherd lad, leastways than one who has no father and mother and who -works for Farmer Harrington.” - -Ian’s heart always went out to children and this gaunt but rather -handsome boy interested him not a little. “How old are you,” he asked, -“and what is your name?” - -“My name is Wilfred Johnstone and I shall be twelve come Martinmas.” - -“Would you like to be apprenticed in the city and do you know anything -about it?” - -“That should I,” he answered; “I should like to be a carpenter like -Johnnie o’ the Biggins, whom they sent to Thirsk last year. Some day -he will be a master carpenter and be building roofs and houses and sic -like bonnie things.” - -“But, Wilfred, what would Farmer Harrington say if you left him?” - -“Well, I cannot tell but he would not have cause to say much, for the -way that he treats the men and the lads that work for him. I very -nearly left him and tramped into Carlisle last week; but it’s hard to -become an apprentice if you cannot pay your footing.” - -Ian had two or three gold pieces left, so he took out one and gave it -to the boy. “That will enable you to get to Carlisle, and back again -if need be, and stay a while anyway to see if you can find a place. I -might be able to help you if you can find me. See the sheep are all -right to-night and then come along. I shall be about the market cross -most days at noon, and if you do not find me the money will take you -back.” - -The boy’s eyes grew round with astonishment. He took the money and -tried incoherently to express his thanks, and then after a pause he -asked, “What’s your name?” - -“Oh, call me James Mitchell; but look you,” Ian added, “do not tell a -soul about meeting me or ask for me by name in Carlisle. I cannot help -you if you do. Promise me.” - -The boy looked Ian squarely in the face and held out his hand. “I -promise,” he said. - -Ian grasped the hand and felt the magnetism of a mutual understanding, -the boy was clearly honest and true and would keep to his word. “Well, -good-bye and God be wi’ ye,” said Ian, and turned away northward. - -After they parted Ian kept along in the same manner as before and to -his great gladness the mist towards evening began to lift. But he was -faint and famished and felt weak from want of food. The sleep had done -him some good, but he had slept too long and lost most of the day. -He felt a little less melancholy after he had seen the boy, but he -was still very depressed. His mind ran on old Moll and her talk about -the spirits of darkness. Consequently it was a distinct shock when he -caught sight of a gigantic figure looming through the mist and striding -along a little below him as though seeking a place so as to come up -on his level. It was many times larger than himself and in the dim -curlings of the mist had a most terrifying aspect. - -Ian began to run but the figure started running also. At last he stood -still and the figure stopped and turned towards him. For a moment his -brain, dizzy with hunger, contemplated a fight with this supernatural -being. He mechanically grasped his staff and raised it, and the figure -did the same. - -Then the tension relaxed and Ian laughed. It was the brocken, the -strange spectre of the hills formed by the distorted shadow of his own -figure on the mist! In all his hill-travelling this was the first time -he had ever seen it; and, although he laughed, the little incident had -not helped to steady his nerves. “It has, however, one advantage,” he -said; “I now know my direction from the position of the sun.” - -Then suddenly the mist broke and there before him was revealed a -glorious view. The sun was setting in a crimson glory and the hills of -Cumberland, still cloud capped, were flushed with delicate colours. He -was below Blacklaw Hill, and Cold Fell blocked the view to the north. -Immediately in front was the great plain of Carlisle and beyond that -the waters of the Solway. Far on the left a silver glitter showed the -position of Ulleswater. It was radiantly beautiful and the more so, -because of the contrast with the cold and darkness of the mist. - -He decided that on the whole he had better keep to the hills, but it -grew dark and he had to spend another cheerless night on the high -ground, which was made worse by the gnawing hunger; but somehow his -spirit seemed brighter, and in spite of the cold and pain he did not -feel so unhappy. - -When the morning broke, he set off with a light heart to Brampton, -where he secured food without being asked any question and in the -evening he found himself in Carlisle. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -A DESPERATE TASK - - -When Ian reached Carlisle he secured himself a room at the old hostelry -near the Cathedral, sent a message into Scotland that he had arrived, -and then spent some days in general enquiries as to the possibility of -getting work. In this he was not very successful, but was more so in -the case of Wilfred Johnstone, whom on the fourth day of his arrival he -met at the Market Cross. - -Ian was sitting watching the people, when the boy came up. He had a -stick over his shoulder with a small bundle containing his belongings. - -“How long have you been in Carlisle?” asked Ian. - -“I have only just arrived,” said the boy. - -“Come along then; we must see what we can do for you. I suppose there -is no likelihood of Farmer Harrington coming to look for you.” - -“I do not know,” said the boy, “and I do not know whether he could -compel me to come back, but he might. I am an orphan and all my folk -are dead. I lived with my Aunt Louisa Johnstone until she died this -winter; she had no children of her own.” - -“Then she was really only your Uncle’s wife.” - -“No, she was my mother’s sister. My name is not really Johnstone, but I -was always called that because I lived with her.” - -“What was your father’s name then?” - -“It was Ackroyd.” - -“So your real name is Wilfred Ackroyd?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then we can call you Will Ackroyd or Willie Ackroyd, and if Farmer -Harrington comes asking for Wilfred Johnstone, he won’t find him.” - -“You are right, Master.” - -“Come along then, Will. I have found a carpenter called Matthew -Musgrave who is actually in need of a lad, so I think we can settle -that difficulty.” - -Matthew Musgrave was a good hearted fellow, who took kindly to the boy -and the arrangement was concluded. The result was that he also began to -take an interest in the stranger who had introduced him, with the final -issue that James Mitchell, as we must now call Ian, who was remarkably -clever with his hands, used to go round to help Matthew when he was -extra busy; and gradually Matthew found him so useful that he gave him -more or less regular employment. - -He had decided to keep to the name of James Mitchell, which was the -name he had used on the Continent when he fled from England not long -after Mary’s accession. Even his friends in France did not know his -real name. If ever he should return to his own country he would -resume it; meanwhile James Mitchell did well enough. Moreover his -recent captors knew him by his real name and it might be some slight -safeguard. He smiled as he remembered how he had instinctively given -the children his own name. It had seemed the natural thing to do. - -After about a week Erskyne arrived and he was accompanied by Mortoun -himself, who hoped to obtain further personal information by word of -mouth, beyond that contained in the documents. - -“I hear you have had some sore delays, James Mitchell,” he said. - -“Yes, my Lord, I was imprisoned for some time in York and wounded and -sick and in hiding for over two months.” - -“You are a Scot I understand.” - -“I am, my Lord.” - -“And of the reformed faith?” - -“That is so.” - -“We shall need the services of all good Scots if there is any fighting -to be done. Can we rely upon you?” - -“By my troth, you may, my Lord; I shall be found here.” - -Ian then put the shoes on the table and they ripped them open. The -contents were practically uninjured and they talked till late into the -night. - -As they retired to rest, Erskyne remarked;--“Master Knox has found a -good servant in you, James Mitchell. I am glad to have met an honest -man with an honest heart, ay and an honest face,” he added. “Good -night.” - -The next morning they left early and Ian felt that an epoch in his -life had closed. He also, not unnaturally thought that, having reached -Carlisle in safety and found employment, his adventures were for the -time at an end, but instead of that they were only just beginning. - -Although Wilfred had obtained his wish, he was obviously restless and -unhappy. On several occasions Ian had tried to get at the reason, but -the boy was uncommunicative. At last he admitted that it was because he -had left something behind at Master Harrington’s near Kirkoswald. - -“I think I shall go over and get it,” he said. - -“But that would hardly be safe,” Ian objected; “Master Harrington might -not let you have it or let you go again.” - -“It is not in a house,” said Wilfred; “it is hidden in a tree. I could -find it easily in the dark.” - -“How did you come to forget it?” asked Ian. - -“I did not exactly forget it; but I had to slip away in a hurry and -did not dare to go back; besides I thought I might have to return to -Kirkoswald in any case and perhaps it was as safe there as anywhere. I -knew it would be possible to go and fetch it and I must go now.” - -“I cannot but think you are very unwise, Will.” - -“But you do not know what it means to me,” said the boy. - -Ian respected the child’s secret and asked no further. “Well, I shall -be very anxious until you come back; you cannot do it in a day. Where -will you sleep? It is getting late in the year.” - -“Oh! I shall manage somehow,” said the boy. “I shall start to-morrow -forenoon, Wednesday, and shall be back on Thursday soon after noon.” - -“Then if you are not back, I shall be very nervous about you and shall -come after you.” - -“No, do not do that, Master; I shall be all right.” - -Ian was not satisfied, but he let the boy set off early the following -morning. - -Wilfred trudged away along the road without mishap, resting now and -then and taking it easily, as he did not want to arrive before dusk. A -little after sunset he arrived at the outskirts of the farm and made -his way cautiously to the hollow tree. He looked round carefully, but -no one was about. He then crept into the tree and felt in the corner -for a pile of stones. In this was concealed a small wooden box. He took -out the box and drew from it a packet wrapped in oiled canvas; within -this was another with the open edges thickly smeared with tallow. - -He took that off also and within was another piece of oiled canvas, -but the packet was now small enough to go into his pouch, where he put -it without opening it. “It would be too dark to see it,” he said to -himself. - -“I think I shall sleep here, it is as good as anywhere.” He waited -until he was certain that no one was about and came out from the tree -to gather leaves with which to make a bed and then he lay down. - -Excitement and cold, however, kept him awake for hours and it was not -till far on in the night that he fell asleep. When he awoke it was -broad day, although still early. “I have slept too long,” he thought; -“it was a pity I did not fall asleep earlier.” He peeped out and there -was nobody in sight, so he softly stole away toward the road. - -But he had not gone fifty yards, before the thundering voice of the -reeve, his particular enemy, called out,--“Hulloo there, I see you -sneaking round, you young thief. But you will not hide from us again, -I’ll warrant.” - -The reeve started running and Wilfred took to his heels. The reeve was -a powerful athletic fellow, but Wilfred was light and nimble. He dodged -under a fence that the reeve had some difficulty in surmounting, and in -that way gained a little at the start. - -For a time the distance between them did not alter, both were holding -themselves in reserve; then it occurred to Wilfred to turn up hill; -he might not be so strong, but his wind would be better. The reeve -puffed and panted after the boy, who steadily increased his lead. When -Wilfred reached the top of the slope he glanced round, the reeve was -far behind; then he plunged down the hill where there was a burn at the -bottom, and splashed through it with some difficulty, as the water was -up to his waist and the bank on the other side was steep. - -The reeve gained during the process and, being taller, made light work -of the burn and was close behind. Terror lent wings to the boy’s feet -but the reeve slowly overhauled him and could almost reach him with his -arm. Wilfred could hear his loud breathing just behind him, when the -reeve, tripping over a root, not only fell headlong but rolled into a -ditch. - -Wilfred laughed and fled like the wind; there was a thick wood not a -hundred yards away and he would be safe. - -His adversary picked himself up and was just in time to see Wilfred -approaching the wood. He would easily have escaped, but another man -appeared coming out of the wood at the same moment. “Catch him, -Joseph,” yelled the reeve, and the exhausted boy fell an easy prey to -the newcomer. - -The reeve was considerably hurt by his fall and it greatly increased -his anger. “Where have you been, you young rascal,” he roared, “and -what have you done with the sheep you stole?” - -“I never stole a sheep,” said Wilfred indignantly, “and it is no -business of yours where I have been.” - -“Oh, isn’t it; we’ll soon see about that. Do you know what happens to -boys who steal sheep?” said the reeve vindictively. - -Wilfred was silent. - -“Come now, what happens to boys who steal sheep?” he went on with -malicious glee. - -Wilfred was still silent. - -“You need not be so proud; come answer my question,” and taking the -boy’s arm he twisted it round till the tears stood in his eyes, but he -restrained himself from crying out. “What happens to boys who steal -sheep?” - -“They are hanged,” said Wilfred at last; “but I have not stolen sheep -or anything,” he said doggedly. - -“You can say what you like, but the sheep disappeared and you -disappeared, and here you are sneaking round in the early morning. The -case is as good as proved,” and the bullying ruffian kicked the boy -brutally. - -The two men led him along to the old grange and locked him up in a -small room, high up near the roof. - -Wilfred knew that the reeve had spoken truly. Young lads with no -friends were not of much account, and nothing but a miracle could save -him. - -He sat there for hours, as it were dazed and stunned, and then toward -evening he opened his pouch and took out the little packet and -unfastened it. It contained half a groat and a long lock of hair. “Oh, -Joan,” he said, “I wonder what will become of you when I am gone. -I wonder if any one will ever tell you what happened to me. Master -Mitchell was quite right. I should not have come back. No, even for -your sake it was better not to come. For now I have lost everything, -everything. And there was I going to become a carpenter and lay by a -plenty of money and come and marry you when I was big. They say a boy -can’t love,” he said bitterly; “they know nothing about it;--I do not -suppose they know what love is. If only I were dying for _you_, Joan, I -should be quite happy, but to die for what I have not done...!” - -He threw himself on the floor and sobbed and sobbed until from the -sheer physical exhaustion of the paroxysms of grief he fell asleep. - -Meanwhile Ian was anxiously awaiting his return. The strange feeling -that had possessed him ever since the day that Aline had talked about -it in the secret room and that lately had been somewhat less intense, -came back stronger than ever. He could not explain it, he could not -reason about it, he only knew that something terrible was in the air -and that it did not only affect Wilfred or himself. So strong was the -feeling that he did not wait till the next morning. He merely lay -down for a few hours and set off soon after midnight, so as to reach -Kirkoswald at dawn. It was one of the last places where he wished to be -seen, but he seemed to be drawn by fate. - -He had grown a beard while at Holwick and he further disguised himself -before starting by pulling out half his eyebrows, which were thick and -bushy, and likewise the hair above his forehead for the space of half -an inch. - -“No one would be able to recognise me, who did not actually know me,” -he said. “I certainly do not answer to any description of myself that -can have been sent around.” - -He went to the different hostels and gossiped with every one. He could -not ask questions at all direct, as that would have raised suspicion. -He began to despair, but at last his patience was rewarded. By good -luck his informant was a young farm hand who had been friendly with -Wilfred and whose sympathies were strongly on his side. Like every one -else, so he told Ian, he was certain that Wilfred had committed the -theft and equally certain that he would be hanged; but in a guarded way -he let it be seen that he strongly disapproved of such extremities. - -“Yes,” he said, “they will never take him out of that little top-room -except to his trial and death.” Ian longed to ask where the top-room -was but felt it would be too risky. When the young fellow rose to leave -the hostel, Ian strolled out. “I may as well stretch my legs,” he said. - -He had turned the conversation to other subjects, but, as he had hoped, -they passed the grange and he looked up and remarked casually, “I -suppose that’s where the boy is of whom you spoke.” - -“Yes,” said his companion, “in the second window.” - -“From the left or the right?” he managed to say unconcernedly; “it’s -strange what scenes may be going on behind a wall and no one know.” - -“From the left,” said his companion, “the one with the dripstone half -off.” - -“Poor boy!” Ian said; “how foolish to risk one’s life, though, for a -sheep; but other people’s doings are always inexplicable. Where did you -say you lived yourself?” he went on. - -“A quarter of a mile down the path.” - -“Where the oaks are? Those are good trees; there must be some timber -worth having.” - -Ian did not return to the subject of Wilfred and he parted from the -youth as they neared his cottage. He strolled back to the grange. It -seemed a fairly hopeless case, ladders would be impossible without an -accomplice; moreover there was a moat that ran around two sides of the -house and the window was over the moat. Could he try and save the boy -by his own evidence? No, that was useless. It might be of little avail -in any case, and, as he himself was a suspected fugitive it would more -probably destroy any slender chance that there might be. - -He did not dare to linger, but he cautiously inspected the situation -and saw a desperate chance. Away on the far side was a tall elm tree -whose branches came very near the battlement; the tree itself was -unclimbable but another tree whose branches actually touched the first -one seemed to offer an opportunity. It was that or nothing. - -A very long rope was clearly necessary and how to get that without -exciting suspicion was indeed a problem. Ian secured a room in the -principal hostel and looked round the stable yard, gossiping with the -ostlers. When no one was there he found a short length of stout rope, -but it was not enough. At last he bethought him of his bed and, on -examining it, he found that the rope carried across and across under -the mattrass was nearly new. This would mean that he would have to come -back to the hostel, but as he had purposely obtained a room on the -ground floor so as to be able to slip out easily, that presented little -difficulty. - -It was a dark night and rain was falling slightly; he undid the -rope from the bed which was in two lengths and spliced them and the -other rope together. As he set out his heart smote him. The risk was -immense. If he were caught it was more than likely he would be hanged; -if he escaped that, there was a very considerable chance of being -recognised as the escaped heretic and then he would be burnt. But, -even without being caught, the operation itself was so dangerous that -it was as like as not that he would break his neck. Was he justified -in risking his life when Aline’s necessities might require him? There -certainly seemed no other chance for the boy; he had thought of all the -obvious possibilities of saving him, but every case was barred by an -insuperable objection less obvious, perhaps, but fatal nevertheless. -“Why am I made so that I always see both sides so clearly?” he said. -“Other people have no such difficulties in making up their minds.” - -It did not occur to Ian that even the difficulty would probably have -presented itself to another man in a different way. Ian’s problem was -merely when and for whom to risk his life; some of us might hesitate -before risking our lives at all. However, after pondering for a while -it suddenly occurred to him that Aline would wish it. That settled it; -the two problems disappeared; there was only one problem and that was -to act as carefully as possible. Aline would undoubtedly counsel that -much. - -He crept along very quietly; it was almost too dark; every twig that -cracked, every slight stumble that he made caused his heart to beat -violently. - -Once he started a dog barking and had to remain motionless for a long -time, but the most trying experience was that when he had cautiously -stolen very near to the grange, a figure on horseback rode up and -passed within a yard of him. He stepped behind a tree and saw the door -opened. A flood of light streamed out and before he could get on the -further side of the tree again he felt he must be seen. - -Once more he waited a long time till all was dark and quiet. He climbed -the first tree with less difficulty than he expected, but the branches -of the two trees were further apart than he had thought. Finally he -had to go up higher and lay the rope over a branch and lower himself, -holding the two ends and then, after reaching the other tree, pull the -rope over the branch by one end. - -The rain and the darkness made discovery less likely; but everything -was slippery and the difficulties were greatly increased. Having -climbed up higher he started along one branch but after he had reached -the furthest safe point he found that he was still a long way from the -wall. - -Again he tried a second branch, but, although a little nearer, it was -an awful gulf in the black night. - -A third time he crept slowly along another slippery branch that swayed -and bent under his weight. “Suppose the whole thing should break, elm -trees are notoriously treacherous,” he thought. - -The branch was worse than the second and he had to go back to that one. -This time he managed to wriggle out a couple of feet further, where -the branch gave a sudden turn upward and to the left, parallel to the -face of the wall. He could dimly discern the top of the parapet on a -slightly lower level, perhaps six feet distant. He tied a heavy knot -in the rope and swung it out to hit the stonework, so as to measure -the distance. It was perhaps rather under than over seven feet. But a -seven foot jump from a wet swaying branch, with a forty foot drop in -the pitch darkness was a fearsome task. The thought made him feel quite -sick and the nausea made his brain reel. A slight squall of wind blew -up and the branch rocked and creaked ominously. He had to hold on with -all his strength or he would have fallen. - -When he had recovered himself a little, a thought struck him; he would -double the rope and loop it round the branch and then tie the ends -firmly about him under the arm-pits. The rope was not very strong; but -surely, if doubled, there was just a chance of its standing a sudden -jerk. - -After he had done this, he nerved himself for the last effort, but -before standing up, he prayed for Aline passionately, fervently, as -though the intensity of his prayer should insure its answer. He then -rose and, balancing himself with difficulty, leaped across. He reached -the parapet; but it was wet, while the lichens on it made it like glass -and he slipped down, down, down, into the void. - -He heard a laugh as of a fiend and saw Aline’s face blanched with -pity; there was an awful wrench under his arms and a snap above; one -of the thicknesses of rope had broken;--but he was still alive. He -climbed hand over hand feverishly, without pausing an instant, up the -slimy rope and then held on to the branch, while wave after wave of -uncontrollable terror swept over him. His excitement was so violent -that he feared he would lose his reason. He used all his will power to -bring it under control; but he could not do it. Must he abandon the -attempt, could he ever force himself, there, in the horrible yawning -blackness to go through with it again? His teeth chattered and, do what -he would, his hands shook till he nearly fell again. Then he thought of -Aline and saw her swimming the river, while he rested his wounded arm -upon her shoulder. “Coward,” he hissed through his teeth, “coward. But -oh, Aline, if only it were for you!” - -“It _is_ for her, though you do not see how,” said a voice within. - -Gradually he grew calmer, so that by a supreme effort he forced himself -to tie the broken rope and again stand up. He stooped over to the left, -where the branch turned, and holding on with both hands he kicked the -branch till he broke the bark a little and roughened it. Then he raised -himself upright and putting every ounce of strength and will into the -leap, he cleared the space and landed in a crenellation. He fell and -hurt himself considerably, but what did that matter? - -Untying the rope from himself, he slipped it from the tree and -cautiously made his way round the parapet. He had to climb three gables -and there were other difficulties, but at last he was over Wilfred’s -window. He slipped the rope round a merlon[19] and climbed down and -knocked at the window. - - [19] The merlons are the projecting upright portions of a battlement. - -The boy, who was sleeping a light nervous sleep, woke at once and -luckily had the good sense to make no noise. Clearly any one at the -window was a friend; enemies came to the door. - -He rose and went to the window and opened it. “Gramercy, Master -Mitchell, is that you?” - -“Hush, yes,” said Ian, and stepped into the room. He pulled down the -rope by one end and, before doing anything else, properly spliced the -broken piece lest it should catch. - -They then set the bed a trifle nearer to the window and looped the rope -round the bed post. - -“Can you swim, Willie?” said Ian. - -“No, Master.” - -“That is very serious,” he said, “as this rope will not stand both of -us, and it is so dark that I cannot first lower you till you just reach -the water.” - -“But I can climb well,” said the boy. - -“That is all right then, but remember the rope is very wet.” - -Ian tied the two ends together and lowered them slowly, till the rope -hung looped at its middle point round the bed post. - -“Now, as you cannot swim I must go first. I only hope the rope is long -enough. It cannot be more than a few feet short anyway, and worse come -to the worst you must take a long breath and drop into the water. But -before letting go, when your legs are dangling, grip one end of the -rope and hold it, cut the rope above and the other end will fly up and -we can pull it through. I want to leave no evidence.” - -Ian gave him a knife and then climbed out and gently let himself -noiselessly down the rope. He found that the ends hung about two and a -half feet above the water, just beyond a swimmer’s reach. - -Wilfred then followed, full of apprehension. When near the bottom Ian -whispered,--“Hold on, but let your feet down into the water.” As the -boy’s feet reached the moat, Ian trod water and put his arms up to -him. This reassured him; as the child, who could not swim, naturally -shrank from the plunge into the black deeps in the specially trying -surroundings. - -“Cut the rope, hold the knotted end tight and let go,” said Ian. As the -boy dropped, he caught him and by going under himself prevented the boy -from being completely submerged. - -“Give me the rope,” and Ian pulled down a long length so as to swim -over. “Hold on to me,” and he swam across. - -Just as they reached the bank the short end ran up suddenly, and the -whole rope fell with a loud splash. - -The two fugitives waited fearfully lest it should raise the alarm, but -nothing further broke the silence of the night. - -As they walked, dripping, to the hostel, Ian said,--“I wish you were -not wet, but who would have thought of this? What shall we do?” They -climbed through the window and Wilfred shivered violently, partly with -cold and partly with excitement. - -“I shall leave the bed on the floor,” Ian said. “Come, let us get off -your clothes.” He stripped the boy, rubbed him down with a dry towel -and put him into bed. The friction started a warm glow and he was soon -all right. Wilfred asked for his precious packet and while Ian was busy -wringing out their clothes he opened it and dried the contents and put -it under his pillow. - -At four o’clock Ian woke him. “I am so sorry about the wet things, but -you must make for Carlisle at once as best you may.” - -“Never mind, I am warm again now, and used often to be wet through all -day, when I was with the sheep.” - -After Wilfred had gone, Ian replaced both ropes and put the bed right. -He stayed in Kirkoswald till nearly evening so as not to attract -attention, and for the same reason went on to Penrith and returned by -the other road to Carlisle the following day. - -He overheard a little of the gossip about the boy’s escape. The most -popular belief was that he had flown out of the window with the devil. -Those who prided themselves on their superior intellects said that some -one had obviously opened the door and hidden him in their house, just -as they had clearly done at his first disappearance. An orphan boy, -however, was not of much value one way or the other, and the thing as a -practical question was a nine days’ wonder; although a favourite topic -of gossip, relating to things mysterious, for many a long day. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -CARLISLE - - -Luckily Matthew Musgrave, who had given Wilfred permission to go, asked -no questions beyond inquiring whether he had settled things to his -satisfaction. - -“I had some difficulties,” said Wilfred, “but everything is all right -now.” - -Wilfred lodged with Musgrave, but they would often both come round -to the hostelry where Ian was. On one of these occasions a number of -men were seated round the fire with tankards of ale, when a big burly -fellow came in and asked mine host to draw him a tankard. Catching -sight of Matthew, he went up to him and clapping him on the back, he -asked how things were going. - -“Well enough, thank you, Andrew, and how is all with you, now that you -have settled down near the old place again?” - -“Oh, not so badly; it is harder work than at Holwick, but it’s good -being near one’s own folk.” - -Ian started slightly at the name of Holwick, but no one noticed and he -guessed that this must be Andrew Woolridge. He waited a moment and then -cautiously entered the conversation. “Where is Holwick?” he questioned. - -“It’s not very far south from here,” said Andrew, “on the Tees a few -miles from Middleton.” - -“What were you doing there?” asked Ian. - -“Oh, I was working at Holwick Hall, Master Richard Mowbray’s place.” - -“What sort of a place was that?” - -“A fine big place, but they had not the money that the family used to -have.” - -“What were they like?” inquired Ian. - -“Yes, tell us something about them,” said Matthew; “you have never told -us much.” - -“Oh, they were all right. Master Mowbray was excellent and so were the -young mistresses, but Mistress Mowbray herself was a tartar.” - -“Was that why you left?” asked little Wilfred. - -“Well, no, not exactly,” said Andrew. “I had a bit of a quarrel with -them. These things will happen, you know”; and he laughed. “In fact, -now that I think over it, I believe they were in the right. They were -decent people, but queer in some ways, and so I thought I had better -shift over here.” - -“What was the quarrel about?” asked Matthew. - -“Oh, that is too long a story; but I thought they should supply me with -enough corn for the winter and they were not willing. Maybe I wanted -too much; anyhow I came away, but I am sorry sometimes too.” - -“Why?” said Ian. - -“Well, if you must know I was sorry for the little mistress, Aline -Gillespie, who lived with them. She and I did not get on very well; -but Mistress Mowbray treated her like a dog. Mistress Aline, though, -did me a good turn once, when I got into trouble, and somehow I would -have liked to do her a good turn too, by way of paying back. I do not -like being in any one’s debt. But there, I make mistakes like most of -the rest of us. What do I owe you?” he said, turning to the innkeeper. -“It’s time I was going.” - -Andrew settled his score and was just leaving when another man entered. - -“Hullo, Andrew,” said the newcomer, “whither away in such haste? Come -back, man,” and then he added something in a low voice in which Ian -distinctly caught the word “Holwick.” - -This was a strange coincidence, Ian thought, to meet two people within -a few minutes who both knew Holwick and he wondered who the newcomer -might be. He had not long to wait. - -The stranger turned to the innkeeper and said, “Timothy, man, I’m back -again; you’ve got a place for my pack-horses for the night, I hope.” - -“There’s always room for old friends,” said the innkeeper. - -“Is there anything you’ll be buying yourself?” asked the stranger. -“Faith, man, but I’ve some fine things, but you’re getting that set up -in Carlisle that a man who only brings goods from Flanders and Italy -and Persia and India, to say nothing of the latest novelties from -London, is hardly likely to please you. But I’ve got some rugs now that -would just stir your heart. You never saw the like. I have just refused -300 florins for one of them, but I’ll let an old friend have it for -that price.” - -“Oh, stop your gammon, Walter,” said the innkeeper. “You need not tell -me your tales. If there’s anything good and cheap, I may take it, but -I do not want any of your flowery word fancies.” - -“Odds bodikins! mine host is very plain spoken,” rejoined Walter, “but -come along, sirs, what do you want?” addressing the little group, and -he unrolled a bundle as he spoke. - -Although Walter made the most of them, his wares really were thoroughly -good stuff, and he had a happy taste in making his selections; -consequently he always did good business wherever he went, and it was -rumoured that he had a pretty pile laid by for a rainy day. - -He sold a few things to those present and was rolling up the bundle, -when Ian caught sight of a singularly beautiful silver buckle of -admirable design and workmanship. It was of a superior class to most -of the trinkets that the packman had with him. He said nothing at the -time but waited for a more favourable opportunity, as the packman was -staying for the night. - -In the evening Ian and the packman were seated alone at the fire. Ian -looked around carefully, the door was shut, so he decided that he might -broach the subject of Holwick. - -“I suppose you travel far,” he said. - -“Yes, Master Mitchell, I cover the length of the country once every -year, but I work mainly in the north between here and York.” - -“Are you going to York now?” - -“Well, I expect to do--after a time; but I am going to Hexham and -Newcastle and Durham and shall then work my way up the Wear and down -the Tees and probably up Wensley dale.” - -“Do you know Upper Teesdale?” - -“Why, yes, but it’s an out of the way place. Yet, do you know,--many -of these out of the way places are my best customers. When I was last -there I sold a large quantity to Master Richard Mowbray of Holwick -Hall.” - -“You know them then?” - -“In a business way, yes,” said Walter. - -“There’s a little girl that is living there, that I know slightly,” -said Ian. - -“What, Mistress Aline Gillespie! the bonniest child I ever saw in my -life. I shall never forget that child, although I have only seen her -once. ’Sdeath, man, she has the face of an angel and the soul of one -too, beshrew me if she has not.” - -“Well, she comes from my country, although I cannot say that I have any -extended acquaintance with her any more than you have.” - -“I am sorry for that bairn,” said Walter, lowering his voice and -looking round; “she has none too happy a time with the Mowbrays. But -there, it may be gossip,” he continued, as the thought occurred to him -that he was not sure of his listener. “One hears such funny tales as -one goes about the country; one does not know what to believe.” - -“You are going that way again then?” said Ian. - -“Yes, yes, and perchance if you know the child, you would like me to -tell her that I had seen you.” - -“May be so; and I might send her one of your trinkets. I saw a little -buckle that might take her fancy.” - -Walter got up and fetched the bundle and produced the buckle. -“Honestly, man,” he said, “that is a more expensive class of thing than -most of my stuff; but I will let you have it cheap. Yes, really cheap; -I know you think I always talk like that, but I swear I am speaking -true.” - -There was an earnestness in the man’s tone and manner that was quite -unlike his usual jaunty way of talking and Ian felt he might venture to -say more. - -“I believe you,” he said. “Well, I will buy it and send a letter with -it, but promise me that no one else shall see you give it to her.” - -“You know the old cat too, then, do you?” said Margrove, a little off -his guard. - -“Mistress Mowbray, you mean,” said Ian. “Well, I know about her; and in -these days least said is soonest mended.” - -“Yes, we dwell in strange times,” the packman responded, “the land has -passed through sad experiences,” and then, fearing he might have said -too much, he added, “Maybe it is all right, but I have no fancy to see -human flesh fry.” - -“Nor I either,” said Ian. “I saw them burn George Wishart, and I shall -not forget that on this side of my grave.” - -“It’s my belief,” said Walter, “that the church does itself more harm -than good by the burnings; it does not have the effect that they -expect.” - -“I believe your sympathy is with those who are burned,” said Ian, -looking at him keenly. - -“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t; but anyway I say that Mother Church -does not always see where her own interests lie. But my business is -chaffering and I do not meddle in these matters, see you there.” - -“Tut, tut, man, you need not mind me, say what you like. I care for -the burning no more than you do and no finger of mine would ever be -stirred to get a man into trouble.” - -“Well, neighbour,” said Margrove, “you speak fair, neither would I. If -George Wishart had come to me I should not have told them where to find -him.” - -“Then keep my secret,” said Ian, “and give Mistress Aline the buckle -without a soul knowing it. While I am about it,” he added, “I will take -this chatelaine, and that will do for the other little mistress.” - -“Then it was not only in Scotland that you knew Mistress Aline,” -remarked Walter, looking at him shrewdly. - -Ian was half sorry that he had said so much, he might have enclosed -the chatelaine for Audry without telling Walter Margrove; but he said -off-handedly;--“The Gillespies lived in Scotland, but were cousins of -Richard Mowbray. I have never seen him, but I know he has a daughter.” - -“Ay, he has a daughter, and she would be worth going some way to see -too; only she is outshone by her cousin. But Mistress Audry is a bonnie -lassockie and will make a fine woman. Yet it’s a pity the Mowbrays have -no boy. It’s a sad thing for the family to die out.” - -Both men were silent for a time and then Margrove spoke. He looked at -Ian questioningly,--“I believe I have seen your face before,” he said; -“your name’s not James Mitchell.” He gave the fire a stir, and as the -flame shot up he said, “Were you ever at Northampton?” - -“I was,” said Ian. - -“Then you are the man to whom I owe everything. Why did I not -recognise you before? I have heard they had seized you and I heard -afterwards that you had escaped to France,--see this,” he went on, -drawing a small copy of the New Testament from his doublet. “I have not -the courage to go about as you do; but I too have done a little, and, -if need be, I hope I shall have strength not to deny the faith.” - -There was silence again, this time Ian spoke. “I wonder if you know -where a Greek Testament could be obtained, you travel much and see many -things.” - -“It is strange that you should say that. I have two concealed in an -inner pouch in my pack, that have come over from Amsterdam and I was -taking them to Master Shipley near York, who had asked me to obtain one -for him.” - -“Then will you let me have the better one and take it along with the -buckle?” - -“Is that it, then?” said Margrove. “Poor child, poor child!” - -“No,” said Ian, “you are wrong, they do not know at Holwick that the -child has any thoughts that way; you must act with all the caution you -can command.” - -Walter brought the testaments and Ian chose the smaller one, which was -most beautifully bound with little silver clasps. Walter wanted not to -charge for it, but Ian pointed out that that would deprive him of the -pleasure of being the donor. - -“Before we retire,” said Ian, “I should like to ask you how you came -to meet Andrew Woolridge. Do you know his story? You can be quite open -with me, as I know why he left Holwick.” - -“Then for heaven’s sake don’t tell the people here,” said Walter. “The -man is consumed by remorse, though he tries to pass it off lightly. He -is honestly trying to do everything that he can. You are not the only -one who has sent a present to Mistress Aline. I can tell you that much, -and if Andrew knew who you were, he would not mind. He is a changed man -since he left Holwick. He told me that the vision of the child haunted -him day and night. - -“He does not like to talk about the child, but really, if I believed in -spells, I should think the child had magic in her. I never saw a man so -completely spell bound and I must confess that although I only saw her -once, she holds me almost as though I were enchanted.” - -“It is the same here,” said Ian. - -“It is a most marvellous thing,” Walter continued, “because she seems -quite unconscious of it; not in all my experience have I ever met or -heard of anything like it before. That’s three of us, in fact the only -people that we know anything about, and it may be the same with every -one she meets.” - -They talked a little longer and Ian discussed his plans for taking up -the packman’s life when he had gathered sufficient money, as a means of -spreading his message through the land. Then as the hour was getting -late they went to their rooms. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -A DIPLOMATIC VICTORY - - -Ian had started a letter to Aline some time before, using the parchment -with the holes. This he finished and carefully wrapped it up with the -buckle, the testament and the chatelaine. - -In the morning he found Walter and drew him aside. “She may have a -letter to send back,” he said, “so try and give her an opportunity. -Keep your eyes and ears open too, and find out and tell me everything -that you can.” - -Walter Margrove put the packet inside his doublet, and, after settling -the girths of his horses, shook hands warmly with Ian, mounted and rode -away down English Street to the South Gate, leaving Ian looking after -him, as he gradually drew away. - -He had a long journey before him and his thoughts were full of the -man he had left behind. He had heard Ian Menstrie speak at an open -air meeting in Northampton, and at first had been struck by the fiery -eloquence of the young Scot and had then been arrested by his message. -He had always longed to meet him again; and here he was, actually able -to do him a small service. Then his thoughts turned to Holwick and the -beautiful irresistible child that had so strangely fascinated him, in -spite of himself, in the few minutes that he had seen her. He had not -liked to question Master Menstrie, but he wondered what could be the -connection between the two; what could the child, obviously a lady, -have to do with Menstrie, a common carpenter? Truly it was a remarkable -world. - -He reached Haltwhistle that evening and did a little business there on -the following day and called at a number of outlying houses on the way -to Hexham. Business was good and it was nearly three weeks before he -found himself turning his horses’ heads over Middleton bridge to reach -the hamlet that has a way in but no way out. “No wonder they say, ‘do -as they do in Holwick,’” he muttered,--the local proverb for “doing -without,” as his horse stumbled in the thick muddy track. - -Somehow he felt full of forebodings as he approached the Hall. - -Fortune favoured him in one respect, however, as he met Aline herself a -few hundred yards from the gate. She smiled brightly when she saw him, -and held up her hand. He took the little hand and then dismounted and -led the horse. “I am so glad to have you come,” she said; “I have been -looking for you for a long time. You look tired. I wonder if Elspeth -could get you something nice before you have to undo your pack. I’ll -run on and ask her.” - -Before he could stop her she had run on, and he had to mount his horse -and trot after her and call;--“Not so fast, Mistress Aline, I have -something to say to you and we may not get another opportunity. Here is -a small packet from Master Menstrie. Hide it in your dress.” Aline’s -eyes shone with sudden pleasure; but as Walter looked at her he -thought she was not looking well. - -“How did you find him? Do you know him? Where is he? How is he? What is -he doing?” said Aline, all in a breath. - -“Softly, softly, fair and softly; one question at a time,” said Walter. -“I found him in Carlisle, and by accident I mentioned Holwick and he -sent this to you.” - -“But how is he and what is he doing?” asked Aline. - -“He seems fairly well and is working as a carpenter.” - -Aline looked surprised. “I did not know he was a carpenter,” she said. -Ian had not spoken much about his past life. She remembered him saying -something about working on hinges, but she had thought of him in that -connexion as a master artist, and so humble an occupation to one of her -birth and surroundings was a little bit of a shock; but she checked it -instantaneously and added, “But I expect he is a very good carpenter.” - -Walter Margrove was puzzled. Aline then apparently did not know a great -deal about Ian Menstrie and he did not know how much to say and how -much to leave unsaid. - -“I am afraid I do not know very much about him,” Walter deemed the -safest reply; “but he seemed to be getting on all right.” - -Aline too felt something of the same sort, while Walter thought it -best to change the subject, and added,--“But I have something else -for you, Mistress Aline.” He produced another small packet, which he -undid, and took out a beautiful carved ivory comb. “This,” he said, “is -from Andrew Woolridge. You can let the others see it if you like, but -perhaps it would be wiser not.” Walter was thinking that it would be -best not to call the attention of people to the fact that he was in any -way a means of communication between Aline and others. “Andrew cannot -write, like Master Menstrie, but he bade me tell you that he wished -you well and that he hoped some day to show himself worthy of your -forgiveness, but that meantime he would say nothing more.” - -Aline was quite overcome for a moment. “I am afraid I judged him too -harshly, and he has already sent something to Master Mowbray.” - -“Yes,” said Walter, “I think the man has turned over a new leaf. But -we are near the house and I want also to give you a little thing from -myself; it is only a length of fine linen, but it may be as useful as -trinkets. I have it here in my holster. If you do not care to be seen -with it, I daresay old Elspeth will manage it for us.” - -“But you must not give me things,” said Aline. “Why should you?” - -“Well, Mistress Aline, I know of something in Master Menstrie’s -package, as he bought it from me, and I fear me that you will meet with -trouble. Pray God the way may be smooth to you; but it is not so for -many who have dared to read the Scriptures for themselves. I am of the -reformed faith myself and He has dealt mercifully with me; for I know I -am a weak vessel. But remember you have only to call on Walter Margrove -and if ever he can help you he will do it.” - -“Good day to you, Walter,” said the voice of Master Mowbray. They were -approaching the drawbridge and there was no opportunity for further -conversation. - -Master Mowbray was coming out, but he turned back when he saw them -approaching. “So you have fetched the packman and all his fine wares,” -he said to Aline. “Are you trying to buy up the best things before we -get a chance, lassie?” - -The thud of the hoofs on the drawbridge and their clatter on the stones -within, had already drawn forth heads from the windows and in a moment -a crowd of persons was gathering round Walter and asking him a hundred -questions. - -Walter answered the questions as well as he could and made his way -to the great hall, where Mistress Mowbray had the first chance of -inspecting his stock. - -She was in a more affable mood than usual and laid in a good supply of -materials, amongst others some very fine kersey, which she said should -be used to make a cote-hardie for each of the children, and a piece of -applied embroidery for orphreys.[20] Audry was standing with her arm -round Aline, next to Walter, and, as Mistress Mowbray turned aside to -examine some silk nearer the light, he slipped the parcel of linen into -her hand and whispered that it was for Aline. - - [20] Broad bands of applied embroidery. - -It was somewhat late in the day when Walter arrived, so that he decided -that it was necessary to stay the night. His horses were stabled at the -Hall and he himself lodged at the house of Janet Arnside. - -Walter knew that she had recently come over to the new faith and he -sought an opportunity for a meeting with two or three others in her -house. They came very quietly, but their coming was not likely to -arouse suspicion, as the packman was considered good company wherever -he went. - -After they had all gone Walter began to talk about Aline, her strange -power of fascination and her unique, almost unearthly beauty. “I wonder -if the child can be happy up there,” he said. - -“I doubt if she is,” said Janet; “she comes in here often and John and -I have many times noticed a far-away wistful look in those deep blue -eyes of hers, bright and cheerful as she always is.” - -“I wish, Mother, she could hold our faith,” said John. “I am sure it -would make her happier. Life has been a great deal more to me since -these things first came my way.” - -Walter sat and said nothing; he thought that on the whole it was far -safer for little Aline if no one knew. “Poor little soul,” he said to -himself, “it is a different matter for these people who can confide in -each other, with no one else in the house; but for her, sweet innocent, -it is indeed a case of the dove in the eagle’s nest.” - -John watched Walter’s thoughtful face and then said, “Is there anything -we could do for her?” - -“Not that I can see,” said Walter; “but look you, there might be; the -child, as we know, is not exactly among friends and none can say what -a day may bring forth. She has had a narrow escape already. You keep a -careful look-out, my lad, and if ever you can get a chance you can let -Walter Margrove know all that goes on. By my halidame, I would not have -any harm come to the bairn. I do not know why she has got such a hold -on me, but so it is.” - -“That will I do,” said John, “she has the same hold on all of us. There -can hardly be a man or woman in the parish that would not die for that -child. They just worship her. Those of the old faith are sure she is -a saint. I should not be surprised but that they say prayers to her, -and she is sweetly unconscious of it all. You know old Benjamin Darley? -Well, I was passing his house the other day, and Mistress Aline was -seated near the door with her feet on a little wooden stool. She rose -up when she saw me and said good-bye, as she wanted to come and see my -mother; but ran across into Peter’s cottage to fetch something. Old -Benjamin did not see me, as I stood there waiting, but I saw him pick -up the stool and kiss it reverently and put it away on the shelf, while -the tears stood in his eyes.” - -“I guess, lad, you have done the same,” said Walter. - -“And what about yourself, Walter?” said John, evading the question. - -“Maybe I do not get such opportunities; are you coming up to the Hall -with me to-morrow to see me off?” - -“No, I must be off to work, but good luck to you.” - -So the next day Walter said good-bye to Janet and went up to the Hall. -He met Elspeth in the courtyard. “Good morning, neighbour, how is all -with you and how is your bonnie little mistress?” - -“I am doing as well as can be expected, and Mistress Audry is not -ailing.” - -“I meant Mistress Aline, not that Mistress Audry is not as bonnie a -child as one would meet in a nine days’ march.” - -“Ay and a good hearted one too, neighbour,” said Elspeth. “It’s not -every child who would take kindly to ranking second after they had -always been reckoned the bonniest in the whole countryside. But there, -Mistress Aline might give herself airs, and yet one really could -not tell that she knew she was pretty; so I do not think it has ever -occurred to Mistress Audry to mind and she just enjoys looking at her. -They are fine bairns both of them.” - -“Ay, they are that,” said Walter. - -“I just pray,” continued Elspeth, “that I may live to see them well -settled. My mother served in the Hall and my grandmother and her father -and his father again, and so it is. As long as there is a Mowbray -I hope there will be some of our blood to serve them and Mistress -Gillespie is a Mowbray, mind you that, and some say,” she went on in -a whisper, “that she should be the Mistress of Holwick. It was a new -place when the old man built it, the old Mowbray property is down -Middleton way and is now let. Maybe, if there’s anything in it, that’s -partly why Mistress Mowbray does not love the child. But there, it is -all gossip, and I must be moving.” - -Walter settled his packs and took as long over it as he could in the -hope of catching sight of Aline. In this he was successful, for a few -minutes afterwards he saw the children, who were really looking for -him. Aline handed him a letter for Ian and asked how soon he expected -to be able to deliver it. - -“I wish we could see him,” said Audry involuntarily. - -Aline looked at her and Audry subsided. - -But Walter, who spent his life studying human nature, saw the glance -and began to puzzle it out. “So Ian Menstrie does know both the -children then and it was not a mere matter of courtesy to send the -chatelaine for Audry. But this is very curious,” he reasoned. “Janet -Arnside has not mentioned him nor have any others of the reformed -faith. Strange how he could be in Holwick and not see them. And I -mind too, that he said he had never seen Richard Mowbray. Truly it is -mystifying.” - -Another thing that perplexed him was Janet and John’s desire that -Mistress Aline should hear of the faith. Obviously, she knew of it and -yet they were unaware of the fact. He began to see daylight;--somehow -the children must have found Menstrie in some hiding place. Walter -was too cautious a man to mention anything that he discovered in his -journeys that might conceivably bring mischief, and too honourable a -man to try and discover a secret that clearly did not concern him. - -The children seemed to cling to Walter as though loth to let him go and -even after he had mounted his horse they accompanied him a long way -down the road; then, fearing, if they went too far, it might give rise -to questionings they bade good-bye and after waiting to wave a last -farewell as he reached the next bend they turned reluctantly back. - -“You should not have said that just now,” observed Aline. - -“Said what, dear?” - -“Said that you wanted to see Ian. Of course Margrove may really know -Ian and his affairs but he may be doing this as a kindness to a -stranger and probably he did not know that Ian had ever been here, he -might simply have met my family in Scotland.” - -“Well, all this suspicion and concealment is not like you, Aline,” said -Audry. - -“Oh, dear,” Aline answered, “yes, I do not like it; life is really too -hard.” - -The children had reached the Hall and went up to their own room to undo -the package. Aline opened it and within were the smaller packets marked -respectively,--“For Audry” and “For Aline.” - -Both uttered a cry of delight as they beheld their treasure. - -“I am afraid you will hardly be able to wear the chatelaine,” said -Aline, as she bent affectionately over her cousin. “I am so sorry.” - -“Not just now perhaps, and you will not be able to wear the buckle, but -isn’t it beautiful and was it not good of him to remember that that -was what I asked for; and after New Year’s Day, when I have had other -presents, I do not think it would be noticed. I have always wanted a -chatelaine so badly.” - -Aline’s long hair had fallen forward as she stooped; she tossed it over -her shoulder with the back of her hand and rose and held out the buckle -to catch the light. It was far the finest thing she had ever possessed. -Fortune was not so unkind after all. Here was a treasure indeed! - -“Now we must see how the chatelaine looks,” she said, dropping to her -knees and sitting back on her heels, while she attached the chatelaine -to Audry’s belt. Then a thought struck her. “Let us also see the effect -of the buckle,” she went on with a laugh, and the sensitive fingers -deftly adjusted the buckle to seem as if it were fastened to the belt. - -“Oh, they do go well together! Audry, they look charming!” Would Ian -mind, she wondered to herself; no, he would like her to be generous. -So, stifling a touch of regret, she said aloud, “They look so nice that -you must keep the buckle”; and she pulled Audry down to the floor and -smothered her objections with kisses. - -Then she sat up somewhat dishevelled and reached over for the -Testament. “You wanted a chatelaine and I wanted a Greek Testament. -Isn’t it a lovely book?” and she fastened and unfastened the chastely -designed clasps. “With the help of the Latin I shall soon be able to -read it. I am so glad I can read Latin easily. I must keep it in the -secret room, I suppose. It would have been safe in the library; but Ian -has written my name in it.” - -“Master Menstrie is not as cautious as he might be,” observed Audry, -“but I must not stay here, Mother and Elspeth want me, to go over -my clothes. Then there are those people coming to-morrow about that -Newbiggin matter and she may want me to have some special gown. -Good-bye.” - -Aline was left alone. So to-morrow was actually the day they were -coming! She had gathered her information, but she had not laid her -plans. Somehow or other those people at Newbiggin must not be unjustly -treated. Mistress Mowbray must not have her own way in the matter if -she could prevent it. - -She found herself, therefore, definitely setting out to fight Mistress -Mowbray. She had never before quite realised that it was an actual -contest of wills; but, when she came to think about it, Mistress -Mowbray had been making so aggressive a display of her power lately -that Aline did not altogether shrink from a trial of strength, as -though she had been challenged; in fact she rather enjoyed it. The -problem was, how was it to be carried through? - -It was certainly not likely that she would be invited to the -discussion. If she came in, as it were by accident, she would -undoubtedly be turned out. She must get Master Gower on her side -beforehand anyway. After that there were several possible plans of -campaign. They were certain to have a meal first and one plan would be -to raise the subject herself and get it discussed at the table, another -would be privily to interview every guest, if opportunity offered. - -She decided that she would go and see Master Gower alone and set out -on foot to Middleton. She crossed the bridge and turned up to the left -bank of the river till she came to Pawlaw Tower. It was a small pele -with a barmkin.[21] - - [21] A small tower with a little enclosure or courtyard. - -After being admitted at the gate, she asked to see the master, and was -conducted up a narrow wooden stairway to the hall, which was on the -first floor. - -“What would you have with me, little maid?” said Hugh Gower, as the -child came in. - -Aline had been very nervous, but his kindly manner reassured her. “I -want to talk about the people of Newbiggin,” she said. - -“The people of Newbiggin! and a sorry set of loons, too!” and his face -clouded a little. “What have you to say about them, fair child!” - -“I want to speak to you that they be not all dispossessed.” - -“By all accounts,” he replied, “the sooner there standeth not stone -upon stone, nor one stick by another of all that place, the better will -it be for the country-side.” - -“Not so,” she said, looking fearlessly at him, “it would be a -right sore thing that the innocent should suffer.” Aline was no -sentimentalist and was quite willing that the wicked should suffer -their deserts according to the stern measures of the day; but this -proposal of indiscriminate chastisement had roused the mettle of the -high spirited child. - -“How now, Mistress Aline Gillespie; but you are too young to understand -these things. Children’s hearts are too soft and if we hearkened to -what they said, there would be an end to all order.” - -“Marry, no,” she answered boldly, drawing herself up, “it is order I -want to see and not disorder. Punish the guilty and spare the innocent. -Wanton destruction is not order, and that indeed liketh me not.” - -“It is a nest of scoundrels, little maid, and all your pretty -haughtiness cannot save them.” - -“Some of them are scoundrels, I know, harry them as ye may, but some -are god-fearing folk that never did harm to you or other. I know one -carline there, whose like would be hard to find by all Tees-side.” - -Her mien was irresistible. “Come sit and talk,” he said. So Aline -pleaded for the better folk, while she spared no condemnation of the -worse. - -She not only gained her point, but she gained a staunch ally as well. -Master Hugh fell under her witchery and nothing would content him, but -that he should find her a horse and ride back with her to Holwick. - -“It’s a fine old place, this home of yours,” he said, as he looked up -at the gateway-tower, with the arms of the Mowbrays over the entrance -archway;--“a meet abode for so fair a princess,” he added gallantly; -then helping her to alight and bowing low over her hand, like a -courtier, with a gravity half playful, half serious, he kissed it, -mounted his horse and rode away. - -Aline had tried also to get hold of Lord Middleton’s reeve, but was -unsuccessful; her plans, however, were favoured next day by the -representative of the Duke of Alston arriving an hour too soon. - -Mistress Mowbray was busy in preparations and, little knowing what she -was doing, caught sight of Aline and called,--“Hither, wench, come you -and take Master Latour into the pleasaunce and entertain him as ye may.” - -Ralph Latour was a tall stern man and Aline’s first thought was that -she would fail, but she soon found that, though hard and in a measure -unsympathetic, he had a strict and judicial mind, and was quite ready -to accept her standpoint, although entirely without warmth or show of -feeling. - -The child, however, fascinated him also, like the rest. Yet it was in -a somewhat different way from her hold on other people. He was a man -of considerable learning and taste, who had travelled widely, and in -his cold critical way was absorbed in the subtlety of her beauty. Aline -thought she had never met any one so awe-inspiring as he made her walk -in front of him or sat her down opposite to him, in order that he might -look at her. - -They discussed the subject thoroughly and he concluded by -saying,--“Mistress Gillespie,--you are Mistress Gillespie, I -understand?” - -“Mistress Aline,” she corrected. - -“I am told that you have neither brothers nor uncles and that the line -ends in you, does it not?” - -“True,” she said. - -“Mistress Gillespie, then, I repeat, you have shown considerable acumen -and you may take it that there is a coincidence of view between us. -Yes,” he added, absent-mindedly speaking aloud, as he looked at her -little foot, “the external malleolus has exactly the right emphasis, -neither too much nor too little, and I observe the same at the wrist in -the styloid process of the ulna. I crave pardon,” he added hastily, “it -is time that we joined the others.” - -They found that Master Bowman, Lord Middleton’s reeve, had just arrived -with his lady, and the company proceeded to the hall. - -Aline had thought best not to mention the matter to Cousin Richard, as -he might discuss it with his wife and her plans be frustrated. She felt -sure, however, that he would take her part if any were on her side at -all. - -“These be troublesome days, madam,” said David Bowman, addressing -Mistress Mowbray. “It looks as though all authority were to go by the -board and every man go his own way. Mother Church is like to have her -house overturned by these pestilent heretics.” - -“Ay, and a man will not be master in his own house soon either, -methinks, neighbour,” said Richard Mowbray. - -“How now, Mistress Mowbray, what think you?” Bowman resumed. “Shall we -not at least keep our kail better in future, when we have cleared the -rabbit-warren?” - -“What rabbit-warren?” said Audry innocently. - -“The rabbit-warren of Newbiggin, child,” replied Bowman; “only these -rabbits are fonder of sheep and chickens and folks’ corn and money -than of kail, but we’ll have them all stewed shortly.” - -“In the pot, with the lid on,” chimed in Eleanor Mowbray, “and it shall -be hot broth too.” - -“I hardly think your broth would be very tasty,” observed Master -Richard. - -“Tasty,” echoed his wife; “it would be the tastiest dish served to the -Master of Holwick this many a long day.” - -“Master Richard’s imagination is too literal,” said Bowman; “he’s -thinking of the old leather hide of William Lonsdale, and tough bony -morsels like Jane Mallet; but we could peel them and take out the pips.” - -“Your humour is a trifle broad, neighbour,” remarked Master Gower; “the -little ladies might appreciate something finer.” - -“Finer indeed--what, and get as thin as your humour, Master Gower, that -we must needs go looking for it with a candle. But humour or no humour, -what are we to do with these knaves? How counsel you, Mistress Mowbray?” - -“Turn them out and burn their houses,” she answered, “and let them -shift for themselves.” - -“I think we should give them something to help them to get elsewhere,” -said Master Richard. - -“Ay, their corpses might be an unpleasant sight, lying round here,” -dryly put in Ralph Latour. - -“But why turn them out at all?” asked Aline at last. “It’s only one or -two that have done any harm, why be so hard on the others?” - -“Nonsense, child, where there’s a plague spot, the whole body is sick,” -cried Mistress Mowbray. “The plague spot will always spread, and they -are all involved already, I’ll warrant; away with them all I say. And -what do you mean, child, advising your betters and thrusting yourself -into wise folks’ counsels?” - -“It liketh me to hear a child’s views, if the bairn be not too -forward,” said Latour gravely. “There is a freshness and simplicity -about them that we are apt to miss after our long travailing in the -world.” - -“‘Simplicity,’ indeed,” rejoined Mistress Mowbray, “simpleton is the -kind of word you want. In my young days we were taught our place; -‘freshness,’ forsooth! We want no fresh raw wenches to open their -mouths in this place, anyway.” - -Latour took no notice of his hostess’ rudeness, but turned to Aline -saying,--“But do you not think, child, that a severe example would -be a terror to evil-doers far and wide, and Mistress Mowbray is -doubtless right, they will all be infected, even if the evil in every -case does not show itself. All through the world’s story the innocent -have suffered with the guilty; moreover, it will quicken in them a -responsibility for their associates. Besides, if, as Master Mowbray -suggests, we help them on their way there will be no hardship done, it -is only a change of abode. Come now, Aline, is that not so?” - -Mistress Mowbray watched exultantly. She was not sure that these -calm measured phrases were not more crushing than her own invective. -“Now, child, you see how little you understand things,” she observed -patronisingly. - -Master Latour, however, was not acting as a partisan; he was merely -putting the case, partly to show all sides and partly because it -interested him to test Aline’s powers. - -“Master Latour is a just man,” said Aline with some hesitation, “and -I think he will understand when I say that I really know that these -people are not all bad,--that the disease, as you call it, has not -spread so far but that it may be checked.” She paused for a moment from -nervousness, and looked a little confused. - -“Take your time;--festina lente,[22]--develop your argument at your -convenience,” said Latour not unkindly. - - [22] Make haste slowly. - -“With regard then to the question of example,” Aline went on, -recovering herself and catching something of Latour’s manner of -speaking, “with regard to the question of example, you all know that -this ‘change of abode’ will only stir up bitterness and that that will -spread tenfold and may wreck us altogether. A punishment that the -others feel to be just is a lesson; a punishment that is felt to be -unjust is a flame for kindling a revolutionary fire. - -“You say I am a child and I do not know; but, please, I do know more -about these people than any of you. I have spoken to every one of them. -I know them all; and about some of them I know a great deal. I do not -suppose there is any one here, except myself, who even knows their -names, beyond those of his own tenants. Marry, now, is that not so?” - -Aline having flung down her challenge looked around with flashing eyes. - -Latour had been watching her with his cold aesthetic appreciation, -admiring her instinctively beautiful gestures, but this time, he too -felt a real touch of the child’s magic as she glanced scornfully round. - -“I do not pretend to be old enough to know what is the right thing to -do,” Aline went on, “but surely, surely,” she said in earnest pleading -tones, “people who want to be just should carefully find out everything -first. Is that not so?” she asked, turning round quickly to Mistress -Mowbray;--“Do you not think so yourself?” - -Eleanor Mowbray was so astonished at the child daring to cross-examine -her like that, that she was struck dumb with astonishment. - -“Yes, of course you think so,” Aline said, giving her no time to -recover herself. “Mistress Mowbray entirely agrees,” she went on, “as -every just person would agree. That is so, is it not, Master Gower?” -Master Gower bowed assent. “And there is no need to ask you, Cousin -Richard.” - -“Yes, dear, you are right,” he said. - -Aline had swept swiftly round in the order in which she was most sure -of adherents, so as to carry away the rest. - -“Master Latour,” she continued, “I am sure you will not disagree with -them and will say that a proper examination must be held first, and -that everything must be done that will stop bitterness and revolt while -keeping honesty and order.” - -“That is entirely my view,” said Latour, captivated by the child’s -skill and the gentle modesty which, in spite of her earnestness, marked -every tone and gesture. “Who would have thought,” he said to himself, -“that anything so gentle and modest and yet so princess-like withal -could be in one combination at the same time?” - -Aline was least sure of Bowman, but while looking at him she -concluded;--“Then I take it that you all think the same, Master Bowman.” - -She had not exactly asked him his own view, and he was sure that -if left to himself he would have taken a different line. He was -by no means certain that he was not literally spell-bound as he -answered;--“Surely, Mistress Aline, we are all of one mind, including -my wife, I think I may say.” The lady smiled her complete acquiescence. - -“Oh, I am so glad,” Aline said, and slipping from her seat she went up -to Master Richard and, in her most irresistible way, put her arm around -him, saying:--“And you will let me help you to find out things, won’t -you, even though I am only a little girl?” - -“Yes, if it is any gratification to you, sweet child,” he answered, -kissing her. - -“That is all settled then,” she said, “and when the ladies retire, you -can examine me as the first witness.” - -“A very good idea; you seem to know every one’s tenants,” said Master -Latour, much amused at Aline’s triumph and adroitness, and determined -that she should secure the fruits of her victory. As he was the -strongest man there, both in himself and as representing the largest -and most powerful owner, the others at once concurred. Part of the -secret of Aline’s extraordinary power was her entire selflessness. In -her most queenly moods there was never the least suggestion of self, it -was the royalty of love. Aline might use the very words that in other -children’s mouths would have been conceited and opinionated; yet from -her they were more like a passionate appeal. This, associated with a -quiet dignity of manner, generally produced a feeling of “noblesse -oblige” in the hearer. The basest men will hesitate to use foul -language and discuss foul things before a child. In Aline’s presence -the same occurred in an infinitely greater degree. It was for most -people, men or women, impossible to be anything but their best selves -before her; to do anything less would mean to be utterly ashamed. - -Aline’s conquest was complete and Mistress Mowbray saw that she would -only expose herself to further defeat if she attempted now to open the -question again. It was made the more galling as Aline’s last thrust had -practically shut her out of the council altogether. Why did that fool -Bowman bring his wife with him? It would be too undignified for her to -insist on coming after they had accepted Aline’s proposition, unless -she forbade Aline to be there; and that Aline had made impossible. So -there was nothing left but to accept the situation with the best grace -that she could and bide her time. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE LOSS - - -Mistress Mowbray had not long to wait. The day after the matter of -Newbiggin was settled Father Laurence was crossing Middleton Bridge, -when he met “Moll o’ the graves” coming in the opposite direction. He -instinctively crossed himself at her approach. She saw his action, and -stopping on the side of the bridge in one of the refuges, she pointed -her finger at him and laughed a shrill discordant laugh. “Ha, ha, Sir -Priest, you think you will triumph in my despite. I dreamed a dream -last night and all the devils in hell got hold of thee.” - -“Peace, woman, peace, brawl not upon the Queen’s highway.” - -“Nay, it is not peace,” she said; “who talketh to me of peace?” - -“Mary, you had better go home,” said the priest kindly. “I was glad to -hear that little Mistress Aline Gillespie put in a word for you and -your folk at Newbiggin yesterday, so that there is the more reason for -your peaceful homecoming.” - -“Mistress Aline Gillespie,” said the old woman calming down and looking -mysteriously about her. “Mistress Aline Gillespie, nay, she is not on -our side. I see the hosts gathering for battle and she and thou are -with the legions of the lost. Nay, Sir Priest, mock me not and mock -not the forces that are over against you.” - -“Woman,” said Father Laurence, “you speak that you know not, the powers -of darkness shall flee before the powers of light.” - -“No, never, nothing groweth out of the ground but it withereth, nothing -is built that doth not fall to ruin, nothing made that doth not grow -old and perish, nothing born that doth not die. Destruction and death -alone triumph. Shew me one single thing of all the things that I have -seen perish before my eyes and that liveth again. No, you cannot, Sir -Priest.” - -“The things that are seen are temporal, the things that are unseen are -eternal,” he answered. - -“And who, thinkest thou, knoweth the unseen, thou or I? I tell thee -that all alike shall pass save the darkness and the void into which -all, both seen and unseen shall be swallowed up. Yes, in this very -valley where we now stand, you shall see iniquity triumph and all your -feeble prayers be brought to naught. Avaunt, avaunt, nor may I tarry -here longer.” - -She brushed past him as she spoke, and the old priest looked sadly after -her. “Poor thing,” he said, “she is indeed in the hands of Satan.” - -He passed up the road on the way to Holwick and, as he entered -Benjamin’s cottage, he met Aline coming forth. The wind blew her hair -out somewhat as she stepped into the open, and the sun’s rays caught -it, while she herself was still a little in shadow and it shone like -a flaming fire. “It is a halo of glory,” said the old man to himself -as he looked into the beautiful innocent face. “Child, you did well -yesterday,” he said. - -“Oh, but I am afraid, Father.” - -“Afraid of what, my child?” - -“Afraid that Mistress Mowbray was not pleased.” - -“Fear not, Mistress Mowbray is an honest woman, she will approve of -what thou hast said.” - -Aline did not like to say more; she wondered whether she had misjudged -the lady of Holwick, or whether the old man’s estimate was too -charitable. - -“God bless you, Aline,” he said, as she turned to go up the hill, and -before entering the door he stood and watched her out of sight. - -She went straight up to the Hall and found Audry. “I wonder what Ian is -doing in Carlisle now,” said Aline. “Let us go down to the secret room. -I have just met Sir Laurence Mortham. I think he looked sadder than -ever, but he is a right gentle master. Do you remember that talk we -had with Ian about our forebodings? I thought that it must have meant -Ian’s departure, but it is something more than that. I felt it again -strangely to-day when I met Father Laurence, and somehow it seemed to -me as though there was some terrible conflict going on somewhere, and -Father Laurence was trying to stop it, but that he could not do so.” - -“Oh, do not talk like that, Aline, you do not know how creepy you make -me feel. Come.” - -“The room looks very melancholy now,” Audry said when they had -descended. “I always associate this room with Master Menstrie. It seems -very curious that we should discover him and the room at the same time.” - -“It is very cold down here,” said Audry, “let us light a fire. That -will do something to make the place more cheerful.” - -“Are there any fires lit upstairs?” asked Aline, pointing to the -inscription over the fireplace. - -“Oh, yes,” said Audry, “several, it is getting nearly winter.” - -So the children lit a fire and occupied themselves in giving the room a -thorough cleaning. - -“I wish we could open this chest,” Audry exclaimed, as she was dusting -the great iron coffer. “It is very strange that it has no lock.” Aline -came and bent over it too. But although they pressed here and pushed -there and peered everywhere, they only succeeded in getting their hair -caught on a rivet, so that both children were fastened to each other -and to the chest at the same time. So with much laughter they abandoned -the attempt for that day. - -“You know it’s my belief,” said Audry, “that that old iron coffer is -the most important thing in this room; people don’t put great heavy -iron coffers into secret rooms unless they have secrets inside.” - -“But the secrets might have been taken away,” said Aline, “although I -admit that it does not look likely. The room seems to have been unused -for so very long. But do you remember, Audry, we never finished reading -that book after all. Why should it not tell us about the chest?” - -“I expect it would; where is the book?” - -“It is in this room, I think, in one of the bookcases.” Aline rose to -fetch it, but the book was not to be found. The children hunted all -round the room, but they could not find it. They then went upstairs to -their own room, but still it was nowhere to be seen. They looked at -each other aghast. - -“Oh, whatever shall we do?” said Aline. “Suppose that they find it, -then our secret room will be no longer safe.” - -“But they may not be able to read it,” Audry suggested. - -“Oh, they are sure to find out, for they will have the parchment.” - -“The parchment,” echoed Audry, “the parchment; then you will not be -able to write any more letters to Master Menstrie. Why, you must have -had it last night when you read his letter.” - -“So I must,” said Aline. “Well, that proves it cannot be out of the -house, for I have not been out except to see Walter Margrove go, and I -am certain I did not take it with me then. So it must be somewhere here -in our room.” - -They turned everything off the bed, they looked in the ambry, they -lifted the movable plank and looked under the sliding panel, but the -book had absolutely disappeared. - -“It is very mysterious; do you suppose any one has been in and taken -it, Aline; it is very small and thin, it is true, but it could not -actually vanish.” - -Aline sat down on the bed and could not keep back the tears. “There is -only one comfort,” she said, “and that is that Master Menstrie told us -how to make another parchment; besides I read his letter three times -over last night and I think I could make a new one from that, for I -believe I could remember it. But, oh, dear, I am certain some one has -taken the book and it will be found out, and then they will see that -the secret room has been used and will guess that that was how Master -Menstrie escaped and that we helped him. It may even lead to their -finding out where he is.” - -Audry knelt down on the floor and put her head in her cousin’s lap, and -her arms round her waist. The late Autumn sunshine flooded the room, -but it brought no joy to the sorrowing children. - -“Who can have been in the room?” Audry said at last. - -“Elspeth, I suppose,” said Aline. “I think we must run the risk of -asking her. She cannot read, but even if she has not seen it, she might -tell some one that we had lost it. However, we must take our chance.” - -So they went and found Elspeth and began to talk to her about the -packman’s visit. Just as they were going Audry managed to say quite -casually, “Oh, by the way, Aline, I suppose Elspeth cannot have seen -your little book.” - -“What book, hinnie?” said the old dame. “I cannot read and all books -are alike to me.” - -“Oh, it was a very thin little book; I must have mislaid it in our -room. You may possibly have noticed it lying round somewhere if you -have been in there this morning.” - -“I have seen no such book, dearie, and I would not have touched it if I -had.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -PERSECUTION - - -The children went about with terror in their hearts expecting every -moment that they would be discovered. On coming in to dinner they -fancied that Mistress Mowbray looked at them with unusual severity, -but she said nothing, yet perhaps it was only because Master Eustace -Cleveland of Lunedale was there. - -The guest looked at Audry, who came in first. “Is that your daughter?” -he said to Richard Mowbray. “By my troth, sir, but you have cause to be -proud of her.” - -Master Mowbray presented the child and she louted[23] low and went -to her place. Meanwhile, Mistress Mowbray had signed to Aline to be -seated. When Master Cleveland looked across again he saw Aline and -started visibly. He did not as a rule take the least interest in -children, but this was a revelation. “I did not know that you had two -daughters,” he said, and was going to say something further, when -Mistress Mowbray, who had noticed his pleased surprise, cut him short -by saying: “She is Master Mowbray’s cousin, a Gillespie, her great -grandmother married one of those Scots; the family of course came to -grief and Richard seems to think it is his business to see after her. -But you would not believe the trouble she is, to look at her. It’s -amazing how sly and dishonest some girls can be. I have something to -say to you later, Aline, about what I found in your room this morning.” - - [23] The “lout” was the predecessor of the curtsey. - -Aline shook and looked terrified, to Mistress Mowbray’s joy, who was -delighted at confusing her before the stranger. - -Master Cleveland felt his heart fill with enmity toward Mistress -Mowbray. “I am sure that woman is a liar,” he said to himself, and he -could hardly take his eyes off Aline all through the meal, except for -an occasional glance at Audry, who also fascinated him not a little. - -“Well, I shall never think children uninteresting again,” he thought, -“if ever they can look like that. ’Sdeath, I should like to see those -two when they grow up, they will be fine women. That Gillespie girl is -quite uncanny,--simply to look at her makes one feel a low born brute. -Widow Pelham shall have a new cottage, by my halidame she shall; and -Jock Mostyn shall have a pension. God in heaven, what a face, and what -hands! I did not know there were such hands.” - -After dinner Mistress Mowbray went with her guest and Master Richard -through the Hall and the gardens, and the children escaped. - -Cleveland saw Aline again for a moment. He was coming back from the -garden and she nearly ran into him. “I cry you mercy, Master,” she said. - -“Then give me some Michaelmas daisies as a token of repentance,” he -said laughing. - -There was a magnificent show of huge blooms along one of the quaint -old paths, so she ran and gathered them and held them out. He took -them from her hand with a ceremonious bow and put them in his bonnet. -“My favour!” he said, “it is a pity there is no tourney, little lady. -Mother of God,” he added to himself, “it’s time I turned over a new -leaf.” - -At supper Mistress Mowbray said nothing to Aline, because her husband -was present. He for his part saw that the child was looking unhappy, -but had forgotten the remark at dinner, as Mistress Mowbray was always -saying sharp things; so he tried to enliven her. - -“Thou hast never read to me again, little one, to-morrow thou must -read something from one of those old books that thou hast found in the -library.” - -Aline trembled; then Cousin Richard knew too, she thought. What should -she do with herself? - -“Methinks I would as lief have some more Malory,” he went on, “and -Audry would like that too, or mayhap ye would like to ride over to -Stanhope with me, what think ye, the two of you?” - -Aline breathed again. Then perhaps he did not know after all. “I would -fain go to Stanhope,” she said. - -“So would I,” said Audry, as both the children saw that it might put -off the evil day with Mistress Mowbray. “It will be our last chance of -a good ride before the winter, it may come any time now.” - -The next morning therefore, the three rode over the moors to Stanhope. -It was a glorious day and Aline for a time forgot her troubles. - -The day following they had to go in to Middleton Market, so it was -not till after rere-supper that Eleanor Mowbray took Aline apart and -said,--“Come with me, I want to speak with you.” - -Aline’s heart sank. - -“I want to know,” Mistress Mowbray began, “what you mean by taking such -liberties in my house? I have told you what you may have and what you -may not have, and you dare to take things to which you have no right.” - -Aline hung her head. - -“You may well look ashamed, you young hussie, but I tell you there is -going to be an end to this kind of thing. I cannot think why Master -Mowbray interfered with my arrangements about the library, when I -had forbidden you to go in, but he will not interfere this time I’ll -warrant you. - -“I went up into your room yesterday and found there a length of fine -new linen. What business have you to be buying fine linen withal, when -I say that any coarse dowlas is good enough for you? When you are in -this house you will crave my leave before you do such things; you will -do as I say and dress as I say or, certes, I will know wherefore.” - -Aline felt relieved. After all it was only the linen and Mistress -Mowbray even thought she had bought it; but the angry dame went -on;--“The more I see of you the more I mislike your conduct and I do -not care for such baggage to associate with my daughter. It would be my -will to turn you from the house, but Master Mowbray sheweth a foolish -kindness toward you, so I have compacted with my sister Anne that Audry -shall go over to Appleby right speedily and pay her a long visit. She -hath ever wanted to have the child there and it will be an opportunity -for Audry to come to know her respectable cousins, and meanwhile I can -keep you more under my eye.” - -Poor little Aline. At the moment this seemed more terrible even than -anything that could have happened if the book had been discovered. - -“Moreover,” said Mistress Mowbray, “you are getting too much of the -fine lady altogether, you seem to forget that you are not a member of -this family and that your position should in sooth be that of a menial.” - -Eleanor Mowbray calculated that, with Audry out of the way, it would be -more possible for her to wreak her spite on the child without it being -known. Why should this pauper dependent, this mere skelpie, dare to -thwart her will? Master Gower and Master Latour indeed! should she not -be mistress in her own house? And by way of further justification, was -not Aline depriving Audry of her birthright, since, attracted as all -undoubtedly were by Audry, they were attracted by Aline still more? - -She then sent for Audry and Aline escaped to her room and flung herself -on her bed. She was too heartbroken even to cry and could only moan -piteously,--“Oh, Father dear, why did you go away and leave your -little girl all alone in the world?” She then took out the miniatures -of her father and mother and gazed at them. “Mother dear, when Father -was alive, your little motherless girl could be happy; but now it is -so very hard; but she will try to be brave.” She then knelt down and -prayed, and after that the unnatural tension passed and the tears -flowed freely, so that when Audry came up to their room she was calmer. - -“I call it a downright shame,” said Audry. “If I am to go to Aunt Anne, -why should not you come too? Aline, dear, I cannot bear to go away -without you. I think I love you more than any one else in the world. -Of course I shall have my cousins, but, oh! I shall miss you; and you -will be so lonely.” - -“Yes, but grieve not, Audry, darling, you will come back again, and in -sooth you should have a good time and Master Mowbray anyway will be -kind to me and so will Elspeth.” - -“But that is not the same thing at all; there will be no one even to -brush your hair, so this will be almost the last time.” - -The children were by now half undressed and Audry with the assistance -of the new comb went through the somewhat lengthy process of brushing -and combing the wonderful hair that reached nearly to Aline’s knees. - -When Aline had done the same to her, they put on their bed-gowns and -Audry said, “You must sleep with me to-night.” So Aline got into her -bed and although they both cried a little, they were soon asleep locked -in each other’s arms. The moon peeped in and lit up the picture with a -streak of light, which fell where one of Aline’s beautiful hands with -its delicate fingers and perfect skin lay out on the coverlet. No one -but the moon saw the picture, but she perhaps understood neither its -beauty nor its pathos. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -TORTURE - - -The few days before Audry’s departure ran swiftly by and Aline found -herself alone. Mistress Mowbray was determined to make the most of her -opportunity and devised all manner of new tasks “to curb her proud -spirit,” as she phrased it. What did this child mean by coming to -disturb their household, and why should she be so beautiful, a wretched -pauper Scot? Of course she must think herself better than other -people! “I have no doubt,” said Mistress Mowbray to herself, “that the -minx spends half her time when she gets the chance, looking at her -reflection in the mirror. Yes, she’s pretty, no doubt, with her saintly -hypocritical face, the Devil is handsome, they say; and I am sure she -is a bad one.” It was no use for people to argue with Mistress Mowbray -that Aline cared not the least about her looks, and indeed, strange -as it seemed, was apparently unaware of her beauty. Mistress Mowbray -only retorted that that was all part of her hypocrisy. “Why should the -child have such hands?” she angrily asked herself one day, just after -Audry had departed, “as if it wasn’t enough that she should have a face -fairer than any one else without having hands that no one could see -without comment.” - -So one of Eleanor Mowbray’s devices was to set Aline to clean down some -old furniture with lye. Naturally this greatly injured the skin, and -as the cold weather set in, she contrived that the child should always -be washing something, till in a very short time the little hands were -chapped and cut and in a shocking condition round the nails. When they -were in this state she was set to clean brass and iron, until it was a -continual torture, and yet Aline did not complain. - -How she longed for Audry when she went lonely to her bed at night. If -only there had been some one in whom to confide it would not have been -so terrible; but day after day it was the same thing. - -At last the hands became so sore that one morning in handling a -pitcher, she let it fall and it was broken to atoms. This was the kind -of opportunity for which Mistress Mowbray had been looking, but Aline -was such a careful, thoughtful child that the chance had been long -in coming. She told Aline that her punishment was that she should be -confined to the house for a fortnight and in this way she knew that she -would deprive her of her principal pleasure, which was to visit the -people in the hamlet, particularly those who were sick. - -It was no use, when Aline offered to pay for the pitcher. Mistress -Mowbray would not hear of it. So the little girl would sit by the -window when she was not actually being made to work and watch the -oncoming winter, with the first snow on the high ground and the brown -withered grasses blown by the wind. All the purple of the heather had -long since gone and the moor looked sere and joyless. “But, oh, for a -breath of the fresh hill-airs.” Aline gradually began to long wildly -and pine for a run in the open breeze. - -The longing grew to an uncontrollable desire and at last Aline, the -law-abiding innocent child, could bear the injustice no longer. After -all, Mistress Mowbray was not her mother and there was no absolute -reason why she should obey her. Master Mowbray, she knew, would -disapprove of her being kept in, and so at length she decided one -afternoon to make her way into the open along the secret passage. - -No sooner thought than the thought became a deed, and she found herself -swinging the stone and letting herself down into the cool open fresh -air of heaven. It seemed at once to make her better; she filled her -lungs, she laughed and stepped quickly down the stream, and then broke -into a run. Oh, the joy of it after being cooped up for so long. It was -so delightful that she was tempted to make her way down to the river -and look at the waterfall. - -She stood watching it and her mind turned to what she had been doing. -Was she right? After all Mistress Mowbray was her guardian and -responsible for her, no matter how cruel she might be. Aline was filled -with doubt. - -“I am afraid I have done wrong,” she said to herself; “the world would -all go to confusion if every irresponsible person and child behaved as -it pleased toward those who have the management of things. Of course -they do not always manage properly, and they make mistakes and do -wrong, and so should I if I were in the same place. But somebody has to -manage things. Oh, dear, it is very difficult, but I suppose until I -am old enough and wise enough to manage things better, I must submit -to be managed and be learning how not to do things when my time comes. -I am afraid I have been very naughty.” - -Aline had a developed power of reasoning far beyond the average child -of her age but a capacity, however, by no means altogether uncommon, -particularly at her time of life. - -What was her consternation on turning round to see Thomas Carluke -standing on the bank a little lower down and watching her. - -He came up and spoke, saying,--“It’s a fine day, Mistress Aline; we do -not often get so good a day so late in the year. You will be enjoying -the fresh air. I noticed you have not been out much lately.” - -Aline winced, as she was feeling a little ashamed of herself,--but she -only said, “No, but a day like this is irresistible.” - -“Well, I am glad you are enjoying it,” said Thomas, with an evil look -in his eye, and turned back in the direction of Holwick. - -Aline wondered what to do. She felt a strong temptation to go back as -fast as possible by way of the secret passage and be in before Thomas -could get there. He would, of course, be astonished at seeing her and -would probably say something; she could then draw herself up stiffly -and say;--“Thomas, you are dreaming, I hope you have not been taking -too much liquor,” a thing of which Thomas was notoriously fond. “How -can you talk of such obvious impossibilities.” If he were inclined to -persist she could suggest that it was her wraith;[24] and that would -frighten Thomas terribly, as they were all very superstitious. - - [24] The ghost of a living person. - -But she felt it would not be right, however unjust Thomas and Mistress -Mowbray were, and however justified she felt in refusing to obey her. - -Meanwhile Thomas went on gloating over his discovery, and he found -Mistress Mowbray at once. - -She took him into the hall and bade him be seated. - -So there they sat for a moment looking at each other, the sly -undersized man, with his low ill-developed forehead, and the keen -looking, cruel, but dignified woman. “What is it, Thomas?” she said. - -“I have but newly seen Mistress Aline out by the High Force,” he -replied, “and I know that you bade her not to go without doors.” - -“Yes,” said Mistress Mowbray. “Is that all?” - -“That is all about Mistress Aline,” he answered, always greatly in awe -of the lady, “but, an it please you, may I have a little of the new -meal?” he added with sudden boldness. - -Eleanor Mowbray looked at him. This came of listening to servants’ -tales. She paused an instant; it was very undignified to be bargaining -with menials, but the man might be useful to her; she bit her lip and -then said, “Yes, Thomas, you can have a boll.” - -Thomas did not attempt to conceal his delight. He had obtained -something that he wanted and he had gratified his spite against Aline, -whom he hated as something petty and mean and base will often hate what -is lofty and pure and noble. - -Mistress Mowbray was glad that she had now a genuine case against -Aline and was determined that she would act with exceptional severity. - -Aline was sick at heart, there was no one in whom she could confide and -she was utterly lonely and miserable. She thought of telling Cousin -Richard, but she was rather afraid even of him; and then too, although -Mistress Mowbray was unjust, she felt that she had no right to take the -law into her own hands. - -She lay on her bed in a paroxysm of grief,--“Oh, I wish and I wish that -I had not done it,” she exclaimed again and again, and it was long -before she felt equal to facing Mistress Mowbray once more. - -When she came down to rere-supper, Mistress Mowbray was waiting. Master -Richard had not arrived. “What do you mean, you dishonest child, by -going out? I hate a child I cannot trust,” she said in freezing tones. - -“I have not been dishonourable, Mistress Mowbray. I never said that I -would not go out. I was disobedient and I am sorry, but if Father was -alive, he would not have liked me to be kept in doors; and I do not -think Cousin Richard would approve,” she added with some boldness, as -she knew it was really unjust and had no one to defend her. - -At that moment Master Mowbray entered. “What is this, about ‘Cousin -Richard’?” he exclaimed. - -Aline was silent and Mistress Mowbray looked confused. After a pause, -as he was obviously waiting for an explanation, Aline said,--“An it -please you, Cousin Richard, Mistress Mowbray and I do not agree, that -is all, it is nothing.” - -“I insist on knowing,” said Master Mowbray. - -“I forbade Aline to go out,” said his wife, “and she not only flatly -disobeyed me, but she questioneth my authority.” - -“Is that so, Aline?” he asked, looking very surprised. - -“Yes, cousin, I did disobey and I am sorry.” Aline knew, if she said -more that he would take her side, and although she could not pretend -that she had any great love for Mistress Mowbray, yet she did not want -to get her into trouble with her husband. - -Richard Mowbray was silent for some time and then he said, “You have -not explained everything.” He glanced at the sad little face opposite -to him and noticed that it was looking thinner and a little drawn; the -child was not only unhappy, but unwell. Surely, he thought, she has -something more to say on her side. His wife looked triumphant. - -“You have not explained everything,” he repeated, “have you, little -one?” he added tenderly. - -It was said so kindly that it was almost more than Aline could bear, -but she managed to say, “That is all that I want to say, Cousin -Richard.” - -Richard Mowbray saw pretty well how the land really lay and said -somewhat sternly to his wife, “Eleanor, I heard my name mentioned as I -came in, I should like to know why it was used.” - -Mistress Mowbray had thought her triumph complete and was so taken -aback that there was not time to think of anything to say, so she could -only blurt out the truth. - -Richard Mowbray stood up, as his manner was when roused, and walked up -and down the hall with a heavy measured tread; he was a huge, powerful -man, and although kind hearted, was very strict and most people, -including his wife, were afraid of him. - -“The child is right,” he said, “I do not approve. I cannot think what -is the matter with you and why you do not treat her more justly. -Aline,” he said, “I do not think you ought to have gone out without -my permission, but you can go out when you like. In future, however, -always ask me before you disobey Mistress Mowbray.” - -“Yes, Cousin Richard,” said Aline, “it was wrong of me.” - -Mistress Mowbray breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Richard Mowbray’s -last few words undid all that he had done before. She knew that Aline -was far too proud ever to appeal to her husband and, in a qualified -way, he had even supported her authority. - -So things grew worse for Aline instead of better. Mistress Mowbray had -even descended to telling Thomas to keep an eye on the child and he -followed her about whenever he could, and made her life hateful. - -She was occasionally able to get up to her room and down the secret -passage into the open, away from Thomas, but gradually even this grew -dangerous, as Mistress Mowbray would keep her at work all the time, -and, if she slipped away upstairs, would send some one after her to -fetch her down. Twice the messenger had gone up very soon after Aline -and had found the room empty; and Aline’s explanation that she had gone -out of doors was received with incredulity. Aline was also frightened -of meeting old Moll at the other end and always peered round nervously -as she emerged from the cave-room. - -If they should follow her closely and suspect the secret passage then -she would lose her one retreat which somehow she felt might be of help -in an emergency. The secret room too was her one solace, the only thing -of interest left to her. - -Although she knew she was watched, she did not know to what extent and -would carry her Greek Testament about with her and pull it out and read -it when she had an opportunity. After all, neither Mistress Mowbray nor -Thomas could read, so she did not think there was much danger. - -Thomas, however, had noticed her take the book out of her dress and had -observed its silver clasps. - -His own intelligence would probably not have been sufficient to enable -him to hurt the child, but he was a friend of the priest who served -the chantry in Holwick. He was a low born fellow given to loose living -and very fond of liquor, which Thomas would occasionally manage to -steal for him from the Hall. He was one of the very few who did not -like Aline. He felt her purity and charm was a reproach to him, and -once, when she had met him in a condition somewhat the worse for drink, -she had very gently spoken to him in a reproving tone, though she did -not actually presume to reprove him. But he never forgot it. He liked -enjoining heavy penances for the gentle sweet-natured child; while -Aline, for her part, tended to avoid the confessional, when she could, -not for the penances, but because she disliked the man and felt little -or no spiritual value from communication with him. - -He had once or twice had slight suspicions about her orthodoxy, -although he had paid no attention to it; but one day, when he and -Thomas were talking over a measure of stolen ale, the conversation -turned upon Aline. - -“I hate her pious face,” he said. - -“So do I,” assented Thomas. “It was a pity that Andrew did not finish -his job.” - -“These wretched folk think more of her than they do of me,” said the -priest. “When they are sick, it is always little St. Aline they want -and not the good Father,--‘Little St. Aline,’ ha, ha, ha!” he laughed -viciously. “The devil take her.” - -“Ay, that may he; it angereth me to see them blessing her and carrying -on as they do; what right has she to act so grandly with her herbs and -comforts from the Hall and her good talk? Who is she, I should like to -know? Mistress Mowbray saith she is but a dependent.” - -“Good talk, indeed,” said the priest. “It’s just blasphemy. What is she -to be talking about,--a girl too,--a wretched female.” - -“Yes, a lot of evil bringers all of them, eh, Father, from Mother Eve -onwards?” and Thomas’ wicked face gave an ugly leer. “Ah, they are a -deceitful lot, and there she is breaking Mistress Mowbray’s crockery -and running out when she is forbidden and you will see her sitting with -her book as if she did not know what wrong was.” - -“What book?” said the priest. “Can she read?” - -“A fine confessor you must be,” said Thomas, “if you have not found out -that the skelpie can read. They say she can read like the Lady Jane -Grey.” - -“The Lady Jane Grey, a pestilent heretic! Mother Church is well quit -of her; a pestilent heretic, I say! Ay, and Mother Church would be well -quit of this brat with her sanctimonious ways.” - -“I should not wonder if she be a heretic, too,” said Thomas. “What will -Mother Church give me, if I catch her a heretic?” he asked greedily. - -“Oh, I cannot say,” said the priest, “but I think I could do the -catching myself; but it is not in the least likely that she is a -heretic. Where could she come by it?” - -“You catch her forsooth! The skelpie is no fool, and she won’t blab to -the priest, but she might tell her tales to me. Indeed even if she is -not a heretic, why not make her one and get rid of her?” - -The priest rubbed his hands and the two heads bent close together. - -Thomas agreed to swear that he had heard Aline say all manner of -heretical things and this, with the testimony of Father Ambrose -himself, they reckoned would be sufficient. - -They were nearer the truth than they knew, but truth or no truth that -did not trouble them. - -Father Ambrose walked down to Middleton to discuss it with his -superior, Sir Laurence Mortham,[25] but although he painted the heretic -and her villainy in glowing colours and added that he was quite sure -that she was a witch too and had sold her soul to the devil in exchange -for beauty, he met with no response, even in a superstitious and -bigoted age. - - [25] Those in priests’ orders had the title, “Sir,” in the 16th - century. - -“I am probably as zealous for Mother Church as you are and far more -earnest against heresy,” said the old priest, “but I do not agree -with your point of view or approve of your spirit. Mother Church must -be gentle and kindly and persuasive. There may now and then be a few -obdurate cases where, for the benefit of the faithful and perhaps for -the heretic himself, a warning example is necessary. It may, if he be -obdurate, be well that he should purge his sin; but it must be but -rarely and, personally, I am doubtful of its efficacy. God will punish, -and, as for the example, it will work both ways. I will go and see the -girl myself, an it please you.” - -Father Ambrose was afraid that this might defeat his plans; so he -pretended to fall in with the old man’s point of view and said, “Well, -perhaps, Father, you are right and it is not necessary to take further -measures just at present, so I will not trouble you.” - -But he had no difficulty in finding others who were more ready to -assist him, and finally he got the matter carried to Bishop Bonner -himself. - -Unhappy as Aline was, she was, of course, quite unconscious of what was -in store for her, although something unusual in Thomas’ manner made her -suspicious. He was aggressively obsequious and tried to induce her to -talk to him, but she would say little. - -One day, however, there arrived a tall priest with instructions to make -a preliminary enquiry. Master Mowbray happened to be out, so he was -taken to the lady of Holwick. - -Mistress Mowbray opened her eyes in astonishment when she heard that -Aline was accused of heresy. “I knew the jade was of little worth,” she -said, “but to think of that!” - -Aline was sent for and the priest plied her with questions. He was very -wily and spoke in a kindly way and tried to lead her on. It was soon -very clear that she knew a good deal about the Bible that most people -did not know. It was equally clear that, comparatively speaking, she -attached little importance to the dogmas and authority of the church. -But though unorthodox and heretically inclined, it was difficult to -make a case against her from anything she said. - -The child was so transparently honest that it was impossible to -reconcile her position with Thomas’ fabrications. However, this was -Father Martin’s first case and he was naturally anxious to prove his -zeal for the cause, to his superiors, so he made of it what he could. - -Not until he had secured every piece of evidence likely to help him, -did he broach the subject of the book, which he thought was probably -another of Thomas’ fictions. - -“By the way,” said he, “you have a book that you carry about with you. -Show it me.” - -Aline hesitated. - -“Shew it me at once,” he said sternly. - -“I will make her shew it,” said Mistress Mowbray, seizing the child -roughly. - -“You can let her alone, madam,” said the priest. “Child, hand me the -book.” - -Aline drew it forth and he looked at it. He could not read a word of -Greek, and at first looked visibly chagrined; but he turned to the -title-page, which was in Latin. - -“Can you read this?” he said. Aline bowed assent. - -“It is a most pernicious book. How much have you read?” - -“All the first part and most of the rest.” - -He wished it had been an English translation, as his case would have -been easier. “Have you an English translation?” he asked. - -“No,” said Aline, and he could see that she spoke the truth. - -“Who gave it you, or how did you get it?” he asked next. - -Aline was silent. - -“Come,” he said, “did you find it, or was it given you?” - -Aline still held her peace. - -“I must know this,” he said impatiently, but Aline vouchsafed no reply. - -“I cannot wait for you,” he went on, his voice rising. “Answer my -question this instant.” - -“I cannot do it,” she said. - -“By the authority of Mother Church, I command you to speak,” he cried -angrily. - -Aline looked up at him fearlessly, as she sat there opposite to him on -the other side of the long narrow table, her beautiful arms stretched -over toward him and the delicate fingers moving nervously. The great -masses of rich glowing hair flowed in waves over the board, and the -perfect oval face with the chin slightly lifted showed the exquisite -ivory skin of her throat, subtly changing into the more pearly tones of -her face. The sensitive lovely lips with their clear cut form, trembled -a little, but she said bravely,--“It would not be right, Father Martin. -I am ready to suffer for anything I have done myself, but I cannot -reveal what is not my secret.” - -Father Martin looked at her. “Mother of God and St. Anthony!” he -exclaimed. He had never seen anything so beautiful as the sight before -him in the fine old hall and he feared he might relent. He cast his -eyes down, he would not look at her. Indeed she was a witch, a witch -and yet so young! “Do you dare to deny the authority of Mother Church?” -he hissed. “You are a heretic and guilty of contumacy. You blaspheme.” -Then turning to Mistress Mowbray he continued, “See that she is -confined to her room and fed on bread and water till she comes to her -senses. Failing that, the rack!” - -He rose to his full height and gave her one contemptuous glance, -curling his thin lips and drawing down his brows, while the nostrils -of his aquiline nose were lifted in scorn. “Good day to you, Mistress -Mowbray,” he said, “see to my instructions,” and he departed. - -Aline went up to her room as bidden. Eleanor Mowbray followed. She did -not lock the door, as, in her heart of hearts, even she trusted Aline -as she would trust the laws of nature, much as she hated her. Aline -might disobey, but she would never break her word. “Do not pass through -that door again, until you are told. Promise me.” - -“I would rather you locked it,” said Aline. “The house might catch fire -and I could not stay and be burned, even to obey you.” - -“Little fool,” said Mistress Mowbray, “if the door were locked you -would be burned anyhow.” - -“That would be your doing, though. I should not have to do it myself. I -want to keep my own liberty of action.” - -Mistress Mowbray slammed the door and went down-stairs. But she did not -lock it. - -Aline was merely thinking in a vague general way that it would be risky -to make any such promise and did not realise how nearly her words might -have applied to the actual facts. - -She sat down on the edge of her bed, dazed. Surely she had been singled -out for misfortune; blow after blow had fallen upon her, and she was -only twelve and a half years old. First she had been left motherless, -then her father’s small estate had been ruined. Next she was made an -orphan. Then she had lost her only friends Ian and Audry and was left -to the cruelties of Mistress Mowbray. And now there was this. The -little heart almost grew bitter and she was tempted to say;--“I do -not mind if they do kill me, everything is so terrible and sad and, O -Father dear, your little girl is so very very lonely and unhappy she -would like to die and come to you.” - -But the thought of her father made her think of life again and some of -life’s happy days and of Audry and Ian, and she gave a great sob and -a lump came into her throat; but she checked it before the tears came -and stood up and drew herself together. “Father would have me brave; -Ian would have me brave. Come, this is no time for crying, I must think -hard.” - -“I might get out on to the moor at night, but I should certainly be -caught. Besides I have nowhere to go. - -“I could disappear into the secret room, but I should soon starve--for -all the food I could get. - -“I might get over to Audry at Appleby, but that would be no use in the -end; what should I do next? Still if I could have her back here, she -could feed me in the secret room. - -“Then again Ian might be able to help--I must get a letter to Audry and -a letter to Ian.” - -So she sat down and wrote; and it was not until she began to write -to others that she fully realised the desperateness of her situation -and that, if help did not come, she would certainly be imprisoned and -tortured on the rack and probably burnt alive. Aline knew that they -thought nothing of hanging children, often for quite trivial offences -and had heard of plenty of instances of executions of children under -twelve. - -When she had finished writing the day was nearly done and she crept -very forlornly into bed. Her head ached and her heart ached still more -and she fell a-thinking how the letters were to be sent. Even if Walter -Margrove should come she would not see him, though it was getting time -for his return. She was getting desperate. She pressed her little hands -against her forehead and at last the stifled tears broke forth. They -were some relief and bye and bye she fell asleep. - -The next morning old Elspeth came to her room to bring her bread and -water. She was shocked when she saw the condition of the child. The -sleep had been broken and feverish and Aline looked wretchedly ill. - -“O hinnie,” she said, “my hinnie, what have they been doing to you -now? Prithee do what they want, dearest. I cannot bear to see you -shut up here. See, I have brought you a pasty with chicken in it. Old -Elspeth will not see you starve, dear heart; and Walter Margrove came -yesternight after they put you up here and he hath sent you this little -packet. He said if I gave you the linen I could be trusted to give you -this. ‘Trusted,’ indeed! I trow so; what aileth the man?” - -Aline sat up in bed and stretched out her hand eagerly and as she took -the packet she wondered whether she dare send her letters by Elspeth. -On the whole she felt it was rather risky to send Ian’s, but Audry’s -would not rouse the old dame’s suspicion. Should she chance them both? -“Is he downstairs now?” she said. - -“No, hinnie,” said Elspeth, “he had to leave very suddenly this -morning.” - -Aline fell back on the bed but managed to turn her face away and say in -a half joking tone;--“Oh, dear, how unlucky! Margrove always makes a -pleasant change and I have been so stupid as to miss him.” - -“I am so sorry, dearie,” said Elspeth; “I am sure he would have been -right fain to see you, he hath a great fancy for you, I know.” - -“Well, an they keep me up here till he cometh again, you tell me, -Elspeth, there’s a dear, when he is here; and I will write a little -note to him. He hath been very kind to me.” - -“All right, hinnie,” and Elspeth went down-stairs. - -Aline ate the bread and the pasty. She was not hungry but she knew that -she was getting ill and she thought that it would help her to keep up -her strength, if she ate all that she could. As she ate, she turned -the parcel over and over with her left hand. It was a bitter blow -that Margrove had gone; but here was Ian’s letter and it might mark -the turning of the tide. When she had finished she still looked at the -packet for a few moments, wondering, hoping, dreaming. - -The figure of Ian rose to her mind, sitting as he often did, leaning -back with his hands clasped round one knee and the foot raised from the -ground. - -She had found her knight; would he be able to rescue her? True, he -was only a carpenter, but in his many travels and experiences he had -acquired so many accomplishments that no one would know that he was not -of gentle blood. “Oh! I do wish he were here,” she said; “yes, even if -he could not help me I wish I could see him again;--well, this is from -him.” So she opened the packet. - -The first thing that she saw was a beautiful pair of silk hose of a -very rich deep blue. Fastened to these was a label, saying:--“These are -from Walter Margrove and myself, mainly from Walter.” - -They were an absolutely new thing in Britain, although they had been in -use for a short time in Italy, and were so much lovelier than anything -she had ever seen before that she could not resist the temptation of -trying them on at once. She threw off the bedclothes and stretched -out one small rosy foot, straight as a die on the inner side, and -altogether perfect with its clearly articulated toes and exquisitely -formed nails. Aline was blissfully unaware that there was not another -to compare with it in the whole world except its own fellow delicately -poised on the firmly built but slender ankle, which she drew up and -slipped into the delightful soft silk hose. It fitted to perfection. - -She then put on the other and stood up, holding her little nightrobe -high while she looked down to admire them. Aline had not the slightest -touch of vanity, but new clothes are new clothes all the world over. -She then stepped across to Audry’s cherished and rare possession, a -long mirror which had come from Italy. “They really are a glorious -blue,” she thought, as the light fell on the soft lustrous material. - -She had pleated the middle of the nightrobe into a sort of band round -her waist; the front below the neck was unfastened, so that the effect -was that of a short tunic. “Why, I look like a boy!” she said to -herself; “if it were not for my hair.” - -In spite of her slimness there was a muscular development, very refined -and beautiful in line, that was distinctly boyish. Her slender hips and -exceptionally well modelled forearms, which were bare, completed the -illusion. - -“Yes, I look like the pages I used to see in Edinburgh”; and then a -bright thought struck her;--“If ever I have to try and escape I shall -dress up as a boy.” She pinned the nightdress with the broad belt as it -was, with the lower hem reaching to the thigh. It fell down at the back -somewhat, but that did not show in the mirror. She then hurried down -the secret stair and came back with a man’s bonnet that she had there -noticed among the things. She had such an immense quantity of hair that -it was only by twisting it very tightly indeed that she was able to get -it into the bonnet; but she succeeded at last. She was rather tall for -her age, although her form was still absolutely that of a child, and an -admirable boy she made. - -Aline laughed aloud; it was the first time that she had laughed for a -weary while. - -“Now let me read the letter,” she said. She took off the stockings and -folded them neatly up, put them away and opened the letter. - - “To my dear little Aline, - - “Walter Margrove hath kindly promised to bear this letter. It is - with deep regret that I will tell thee how that my plans have not - prospered. As thou knowest, I have been working with one, Matthew - Musgrave, a carpenter, hoping to lay by money that eventually I - might betake me to the road like our friend Walter. But Matthew - hath been sick of an ague these many weeks past and I find that - he hath little or nothing saved. I have done what I might but - my small means are exhausted, and we are even in debt for the - purchase of wood. The boy, Will Ackroyd, hath also been somewhat - of an anxiety to me, so that I am much cast down in spirit and - indeed as Matthew will tell thee am somewhat ailing in body. This - I regret the more as thy face liveth ever before me and I have - thought that it might at any moment be needful for me to come - unto thine assistance, whereas I even fear that I am not in any - wise able. I trust that Mistress Mowbray is not treating thee ill - and that thou and that dear child, thy cousin, are enjoying all - happiness. - - “My hard times will doubtless pass and better will come. I think - of thee day and night and pray for thee without ceasing; and - sweet child, remember that whatever the difficulties, I would - fight through everything to come to thine aid if need should - arise. - - “To-morrow I hope to be able to send thee some small token from - Walter’s pack. Meanwhile I say,--May the peace of the Lord Jesus - be with thee and all the love of this poor mortal heart is thine; - as Homer saith; ‘for that thou, lady, hast given me my life.’ - - “My blessing and love be also to thy cousin Audry, for right - kindly did she minister to me. - - “Farewell, bright angel of my dreams. - - “IAN MENSTRIE. - - “An so be that thou writest, it is better to put upon the cover - the name of James Mitchell whereby I am known here.” - -Ian had been very seriously ill himself from trying to undertake more -than was possible. His unceasing care and tender watchfulness had saved -Musgrave’s life, but it was nearly at the cost of his own and he was -but a shadow of his former self. - -Aline’s sympathetic little heart read more between the lines than Ian -had intended her to see and the letter seemed the last drop in her cup -of sorrow. - -It was too much and this time she fainted right away. When she came to, -she found that she was lying on the floor and old Elspeth was bending -over her and sprinkling water on her face. The old woman was nearly -beside herself with grief. “O my bonnie bonnie child, what shall poor -Elspeth do? They will kill you, heart of mine, if they go on in this -way. See you are cold as a stone and nothing on you but this thin rag -and that unfastened too.” She lifted the child back into bed and rushed -down-stairs to the kitchen, where she found some hot broth ready for -the table and came back with a bowl of it. - -On the way she met Mistress Mowbray. - -“What are you doing, Elspeth?” the lady almost shrieked. - -“Mistress Aline was in a dead faint on the floor of her room and stone -cold and like enough to die. Such goings on as there have been in this -house lately I have never seen in all my days. First the child is -nearly murdered by that ne’er do weel Andrew and now the whole house -seems bent on doing the same. In my young days old Mistress Mowbray -would not have countenanced such doings and the priests, gramercy, knew -better than to meddle in other folk’s houses.” - -Elspeth who had known three generations of Mowbrays was a privileged -person, but this was more than even she had ever before ventured to say. - -“How dare you speak like that?” said Mistress Mowbray. - -“Marry, you would not have the child’s death at your door, would you, -whatever the priest may bid? That at least was not of his ordering.” - -Mistress Mowbray glared at her, but said, “Well, take the broth; how -was I to know the child had fainted? Yet i’ faith she shall not have -all of that,” and she took the bowl and carried it down and poured half -of it back. When Elspeth reached the child she was so overcome that she -could only sit on the bed and moan. Aline put her arm out and took the -old woman’s hand and stroked it and said,--“Elspeth, do not take it so -to heart. I am all right and, look you, the broth is excellent. See, I -shall be quite well again in a moment. A little faint is nothing. Tell -me how deep the snow is on the road to Middleton and how the sheep are -getting on in this cold and whether there be any news from Appleby.” - -So she gradually coaxed Elspeth away from the subject of her own -troubles and even made her smile by telling her about the blue hose and -how she had tried them on, and how pleased with them she was; but she -kept the little plan of dressing up like a boy to herself. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -TO THE RESCUE - - -That evening Elspeth went down to the Arnsides. She was really very -much concerned at the line that things were taking and, staunch -Catholic as she was, she had no mind to have her little mistress ill -used. She of course knew nothing about her neighbour’s faith and simply -went to them because of their interest in Aline; and she told them the -whole story from the time of the coming of Father Martin. - -“We helped her with the linen,” she said, “but I fear this is a more -difficult matter; but it makes my heart bleed for the poor innocent and -she only twelve years old. We can manage to feed her, but the child -will pine away shut up there. I cannot think what to do.” - -“The thing would be to get Mistress Audry back,” said Janet. “That -would be something.” - -“Ay, that would it,” Elspeth assented. - -They talked it over for some time and Elspeth decided that she would -try and say something in an indirect way to Master Mowbray, which might -result in his sending for his daughter. - -When she was gone John turned to his mother,--“Mother, somehow I -believe Walter Margrove is the man to help us, and he told us to let -him hear how things went and they have gone a deal worse than any of -us could have dreamed. He knows the world and he knows, too, what the -real risk is. Even if Mistress Audry comes back, methinks that will not -alter the true danger.” - -“Ay,” said his mother, “but Master Walter was here but yesterday, how -are we to get him?” - -John thought for a time and then said,--“I have no regular work here -and Silas, who sees to my hours, is one of our faith. I would even risk -telling him something; although I need not say it is for Mistress Aline -that I want to see Walter.” - -“But how would you find Walter even if you did consult Silas?” said his -mother. - -“That should not be difficult,” said John. “He always calls at Carlisle -on his rounds and I think I heard him say that he expected to be there -this time within a sennight. In any case, however, he gets there long -enough before he gets here. He generally stays with one, Timothy -Fenwick, at the sign of the Golden Keys.” - -“How will you go,” said his mother, “round by Middleton?” - -“No, it is such a long way round; I shall keep this side the river.” - -“What, with all this snow!” - -“Yes, if I can get off to-day; the sky is clear and the weather set and -the snow hard.” - -“Well, good-bye, my boy. God bless you and I trust the Lord will grant -you success.” - -John Arnside obtained the permission with no trouble at all, made -himself up a bundle, put it on a stick over his shoulder, kissed his -mother and set off. - -Fortune favoured him and on the third day he was in Carlisle without -mishap. - -He enquired for the Golden Keys and easily found the house, but Walter -was not there. He found, however, a man seated by the fire; he was of -medium height, lightly built and well proportioned. He looked very ill -and was holding one knee with his hands as he leaned back, and was -gazing into the fire with his deep set eyes. - -“Come and sit by the fire, lad, the day is cold.” - -John came as invited. “I heard you asking for Walter Margrove,” said -the stranger, “he will not be here for some time. I hope your business -is not of importance.” - -“Well,” said the boy, “I must just wait, unless you could tell me where -he is to be found.” - -“That could not I,” replied the other. “I know he was going to -Newcastle and then up Tyne and down Tees; after that I think he was -going to Skipton and West to Clitheroe and then North. He should be -somewhere on the Tees now, I reckon, perhaps down as far as Rokeby.” - -“Do you know the Tees?” said John. - -The man lifted his grey deep set eyes; they had a far away look in -them, as though he did not see the boy before him. They were watching -the Tees come over the High Force and the rainbow that hung in the -quivering spray. - -“Yes, I know the Tees,” he said at length. “I know the Tees. - -“Do _you_ know the Tees?” he went on; and it seemed to John that the -hollow eyes in the sick man’s face looked at him hungrily. “Maybe you -come from those parts yourself.” - -“I do,” said John; “I was born and bred in Upper Teesdale.” - -“What is your name?” - -“John Arnside.” - -The man looked at him and then the sad eyes seemed to brighten a -little. “John Arnside, son of Janet Arnside?” he asked. - -“Yes,” said John, wondering what was coming next. - -The man got up and closed the door softly, he then came back and held -out his hand to the boy. “I am so glad to see you, John; I know about -you. I heard you asking for Walter Margrove, and oh,” he continued, -apprehensively, “I do hope it is nothing about Mistress Aline that -brings you here. Yes, I know quite well who you are and you may trust -me.” - -John’s was a simple nature and not easily suspicious; he just hesitated -a moment and then reflected that if he merely said what was known to -every one he could not do any harm. Walter Margrove’s part in the -matter, he could keep for the present as a second string to his bow. - -“They say that Mistress Aline is a heretic,” he said, “and they are -going to burn her.” - -The man clutched at the table to try and prevent himself from falling; -the shock was so terrible in his weak condition; but he slipped back -and was only saved by the boy catching him as he fell. - -“O God,” he exclaimed, “not so, not so.” - -He then made a tremendous effort and pulled himself together, but it -was enough for John, there was no doubt that this stranger was in some -way as interested in Aline’s welfare as himself. - -“We must save her then,” said the stranger in a steady voice, while -within him his thoughts and feelings tossed as in a storm. - -“Marry though, what are we to do?” - -“Let us sit down and think-- Now look you here; it is not easy to think -quickly, but we must act quickly. Can you get speech of Mistress Aline?” - -“No,” answered John; “she is confined to her room, but old Elspeth sees -her.” - -“Can you write, John?” - -“Gramercy no, Master, you would hardly expect the likes of me to be -able to do that.” - -“Well, you must get her my letter, somehow, and, furthermore, tell me -what you yourself are willing to do for Mistress Aline.” - -“I would give my life for her,” said John simply. - -“Then,” said the other, looking him straight in the face, “you must hie -you home at once and I will follow as soon as I can be ready. Keep a -sharp look-out for the inquisitors and, if I do not come before them, -you must get speech of her by hook or by crook and tell her that I, -James Mitchell, told you that she must reveal to you our secret and -that you must feed her. She will know what that means and you must do -as she bids you. Indeed, if you get there before me, you had better do -this in any case.” - -“Surely I will; how could I other?” - -“Marry then, hasten; for, even now we know not what an hour may bring -forth. We must not wait for Walter, though he would have been our best -aid. God speed thy feet, John; my heart goes with thee and I myself -shall follow hard after thee.” - -Without more ado John took his small bundle and started off at once. - -Ian was nearly beside himself, the shock had brought on the pains in -his head and he put his hands to his throbbing brows and strove to -think. His money had all gone; how was he to act? Certainly the first -thing was to get the child away somewhere, but how even was that to -be done without horses? If only Margrove and his horses had been to -hand! But that was a vain wish. Of course she could be concealed in the -secret room, but he felt this was too perilous. There was risk enough -in feeding him when Aline and Audry had been in the house. Suspicion -would be roused tenfold if Aline were simply to disappear. John would -certainly be seen, sooner or later, carrying food to the gully. -Mortifying as the discovery of old Moll had been, it was a mercy to be -forewarned. No, it might do as a very temporary expedient, but no more. - -Of course it might be just within the bounds of possibility to get -horses from Holwick Hall itself; but failure would mean absolute and -irretrievable disaster. No again, nothing must be left to chance. -Suddenly a thought struck him, there were horses on the estate where -Andrew Woolridge worked. Possibly Andrew might help him and, if not, -the risk was comparatively small. - -This then decided him. He would set out immediately; but there was one -more thing to consider. Should he say anything to the boy, Wilfred? It -was true, he argued, that the more people that knew, the greater the -chance of discovery. But on the other hand, if anything should happen -to him, how was Aline to be saved? After all there was still Walter -Margrove, who would surely attempt to do something. Finally he went and -found Wilfred. - -“Wilfred,” he said, “I want to ask a favour of thee.” - -“That mayest thou well ask, Master Mitchell.” - -“Well, I shall not tell thee more than that it concerns a matter of -life and death, so that if any enquire of thee, there will be little -that thou canst say, however they question thee. But when Walter -Margrove cometh, tell him that Mistress Aline is in great jeopardy and -let him do that which seemeth him best and may the Lord quicken his -steps.” - -“What, the little lady of whom they were talking one night not long -syne?” - -“Yes, that same; now be faithful to us, Wilfred.” - -“But, Master Mitchell, thou art not going to leave us,” said the boy -piteously. “After all that thou hast done for us that cannot be. See, -prithee let me come with thee an thou must go.” - -Ian considered for a moment as to whether the boy might be a help or -a hindrance and decided that it would rather complicate matters than -otherwise to take him. - -“No, Wilfred, it cannot be,” he said; “but thou mightest, so far as -thou art able, go out on the road to Brampton when thou art not at work -and keep a look-out for me coming from Alston or Kirkoswald between the -third and the seventh day from now. - -“Indeed thou mightest do better. I will show thee more. Keep thine eyes -and ears open for all the gossip of the city. I know thee well enough -to know that thou wouldst not see any one burned alive and I go to -save one from the burning. If thou hearest aught of inquisitors come as -far south along the road as thou mayest.” - -Wilfred bade good-bye and promised by all that was holy that he would -do everything that he could. - -Ian had decided to take nothing but one small wallet, as less likely to -rouse suspicion, and started off. What was his horror, before he had -gone ten paces from the door, to see a group of black robed figures -on horseback approaching the hostelry, and his horror increased to -terror when he recognised one of the figures as Father Austin, who had -superintended, when he himself had been tortured in York. - -The keen shrewd face shewed instant recognition in spite of Ian’s -altered appearance. “Whither away, Ian Menstrie? Come return to the -hostelry with us and have a talk with an old friend.” An evil smile of -triumph spread over his face and he added quietly but firmly to his -attendants,--“That is the man we have sought these many months, our -Lady hath delivered him into our hands.” - -Ian said nothing, but Wilfred, who was still standing at the door, -said,--“That is not Ian Menstrie, that is Master James Mitchell.” - -“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Mitchell,” said Father -Austin sarcastically, bowing from his horse. - -“My name is Ian Menstrie,” said Ian. - -“You have varying names then, like a gaol-bird,” replied the inquisitor -with a sneer. - -“We shall have two for our burning, perdy!” he continued to his -companion. “It will make a right merrie blaze. What think you, Father -Martin?” - -“Burning’s too good for them; I would give them a taste of something -first. As for that young witch up in Holwick, the Devil will be sorry -to see her in Hell before her time. If she had lived to grow up, she -would have charmed men’s souls to Satan more surely than any siren ever -charmed a mariner.” - -“If we burn the body shall we not save the soul?” said Father Austin. - -“That doctrine liketh me not; no, Father, methinks in these cases we do -but hasten the final judgment.” - -“Have a care, friend, lest these be heresies also.” - -“I a heretic! That is a mirthful jest.” Then looking toward Ian he went -on,--“As for this fellow, he seems a sickly creature; I reckon by the -looks of him that he has not long to live. But it is good for the souls -of the faithful that he should blaze to the glory of God rather than -die in his bed. Marry, methinks he is like enough to faint even now.” - -Nothing but Ian Menstrie’s iron will indeed prevented it. The pains -shot through his head like knives and his back and joints ached as -though red hot with fire, but it was nothing to the anguish of his -heart; yet he felt that his only chance was to keep up somehow. - -He would have died on the rack some five months ago had it not been -for his sheer strength of will. He had done it before, he would do it -again; he would defy them yet. - -Great cold beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, but he held -himself erect. “Is it Timothy Fenwick’s hostelry you seek, gentlemen?” - -There was a touch of defiance, even of scorn, in the lordly ring of -his voice. Father Austin knew only too well that, clever as he was -himself, he was no match for this man, who had beaten him once; “But he -shall not escape me this time,” he said to himself, and having already -alighted, he followed into the hostelry. “The day is past its prime,” -he remarked, “and we have caught our main game. We have come far and -there is no haste. We will bide here and rest till Wednesday; the -little bird at Holwick will not flutter far, I warrant ye.” - -It amused Father Austin to have Ian with them at meals to taunt him and -to gloat over his own triumph. Ian realised that he would have little -chance unless he were well nourished, so he fell in with their scheme -and humoured them. At first he would talk brightly to the others and -then, as he was an excellent raconteur and had a pretty wit, he made -himself such good company that they could ill spare him. He played -with Father Austin, assuming an attitude of deference and fear with an -anxious desire to please; but if he wanted to retire to rest, he would -lead him into an argument and when the father was worsted he would -order the guards to take Ian to his room. - -Again, by extraordinary will power, he would achieve the almost -impossible feat of forcing himself to sleep. It was Aline’s only -chance, he argued; and in that way he almost miraculously overcame the -raging torments of his mind. - -By the Wednesday he had even recovered slightly and felt rather like -one going into battle than like a beaten man. He had thought out -several plans; but the best one was to try and contrive to cross the -ford of the Eden when it was getting dark. For this some delay was -necessary, and he even managed to whisper to Wilfred unobserved, while -he set the company off into boisterous and uncontrollable laughter, -that he should loosen one of the horse’s shoes. He reckoned further -to be able to do something more in the way of delay by his powers of -conversation. - -Another part of his scheme was to put his captors off the scent, if he -should succeed in making his escape, and therefore he took occasion to -remark; “Well, Father, and when we set out on our travels, whither are -we bound? Is it south we shall be going?” - -“Forsooth, man, you do not think we should go north, do you?” - -“No, may be not; but I should like to see Scotland again.” - -“Trouble not yourself, you will never see Scotland more; and when next -I visit Scotland the Regent Mary will be glad to hear that her daughter -has one heretic the less among her subjects.” - -“But what if I should reach Scotland first,” said Ian jocularly. “That -might spoil the pleasure of your visit.” - -“There is no fear of that,” replied the other. - -“Bishop Bonner may think differently from yourself,” Ian rejoined; “it -is not every heretic that even Bonner burns. There’s many a slip twixt -cup and lip; and Bonner might send me to Scotland if I promised to stay -there. I warrant if once I were on that side again, there would be -little temptation to come over.” - -“Come, this is no time for talking, we must be off,” said Father -Austin. - -All fell out as Ian had planned; the shoe was quite loose and before -they had reached the city gate, Ian said to Father Martin, “Methinks, -Father, your mare will shortly cast her shoe.” - -So they returned to the hostelry where there was a smithy. Ian then -succeeded in getting them all interested in a thrilling narrative just -as the mare was ready, and put off the time until it seemed best to -stay and have dinner before starting. More stories lengthened the meal, -so that it was not till well on in the afternoon of the short winter -day that they actually set out. - -Ian was placed in the middle, surrounded by the guards, with loaded -pistols, and his hands were tied, but not very tightly, as they allowed -him to hold the reins. Try as he would he could not help the violent -beating of his heart. Could he, one man, unarmed and bound, outwit all -these knaves? The vision of little Aline rose before him. “I must fight -the very fates,” he said to himself, “verily, I must win.” His thoughts -travelled back to those days, long ago, when as a mere child he had -given his heart-worship to the beautiful girl who had gone from him, -but whom he had loved with a passionate devotion ever since. He had -said practically nothing to Aline, but he was sure that he knew whence -the strange likeness came; and for the double claim that she had upon -him, fate, that had so cruelly treated him long ago, should be made to -yield. He felt the strength of his own will like a white fire and then -he trembled for a moment lest he should be fighting against God. “O -Lord,” he prayed, “Thou hast brought me on this road and Thou hast made -this lovely child; let her not perish by the machinations of evil men. -Take my life, O God, give me all torture and the terrible burning, but -grant her happiness.” - -He felt a sudden influx of power and prayed again a prayer of -thankfulness. “Yes,” he said, “I will bend fate to my will and God will -smile on my struggle and then I will yield myself to Him and He shall -toss me into the void or do unto me in my despite whatsoever seemeth -Him good.” - -It was a long road and the spirits of the party flagged. It was, -moreover, bitterly cold, but Ian had not dared to put on more clothing -for fear that it should defeat his plans. There had been a thaw and -he watched anxiously for the river. He had succeeded during the long -ride, in very considerably loosening the cord that tied his wrists, -and although it was still quite tight round one wrist and he could not -be certain of freeing the other, he was sure that he could slip it -sufficiently to get twenty to thirty inches of free play between his -hands. He had managed, too, greatly to fray the portion that would be -the connecting piece. - -It was getting dusk when they reached the river, and, owing to the -recent heavy weather and thaws, the ford was so high that the water was -more than up to the horses’ girths. Ian’s heart beat more violently -than ever; it seemed almost as though it could be heard. “Aline, Aline, -had she no more reliable deliverer than himself?” - -As they crossed, the horses had to pick their way and they spread out a -good deal so that they were almost in a line, with Ian in the middle, -who managed also to coax his horse a little bit down the stream. He -then nerved himself for the supreme effort and, first jerking his -horse back almost on to its haunches, so as to give in the gloom the -appearance of the animal having stumbled, he flung himself from its -back shrieking,--“Help, help,” as he went. As soon as the water closed -over him he struck out and swam under water as far as he possibly -could. Unfortunately the cord did not break as he hoped and the -swimming was exceedingly difficult, but there was sufficient play of -cord to make the feat quite possible, and the swift current helped him -not a little. - -It was perhaps fortunate that nearly all the pistols were discharged -at once, before he came to the surface, as they were fired at random -into the confused water round the horse, which had some difficulty in -regaining its footing. - -When he rose he immediately took a breath and went under again. Only -one man was looking in that direction and he did not seriously think -that the dark spot in the turbid river was really anything; where -occasionally a half hidden boulder would appear above the water. But he -took aim, more or less mechanically or from intuition, and fired, and -the bullet actually grazed Ian’s shoulder. - -Before he had appeared again the little company had turned to the -riderless horse and those who had lances were prodding into the deeps -of the river. Again he swam under water; it was still very shallow and -he bruised himself several times more or less severely on the boulders -in the river bed. He did this twice more and the water grew deeper; and -then he ventured to glance back. They were already but dimly visible -and he knew that he himself was out of sight, so he slowly made for -the bank with some difficulty across the current. When he reached the -bank they were no longer to be seen, and he was glad to get out of the -icy water. But the air was miserably cold, even more trying, as is -often the case, than during the frost itself. - -He was only two miles from Andrew’s cottage, which he had once visited, -and he wondered whether it would be safe for him to go there at once. -After all, the risk was about as great one way as another. Besides, -he hoped that they would think he was drowned and, even if they did -not, that they would think he would endeavour to make his way north -to Scotland. In any case it would not take him long to perish from -exposure. Of course, he would have to cross his enemies’ tracks and he -decided to keep near the water’s edge as at least affording some chance -of escape. He soon managed to get rid of the cord that tied his hands -and crept along by the wooded banks looking and listening intently. - -After a few minutes he heard voices and they grew louder; he lay down -on the brink and waited a moment. In the still evening they could be -heard quite distinctly. - -“Oh, the fellow is drowned right enough,” said one of the voices. - -“Yes, curse the knave,” said the other voice, which was that of Father -Austin. “It grieveth me sore. Mother Church hath missed an opportunity -for a great lesson. I would even that we had his corpse, it would be -something to show; and at the least I should get the credit for the -bringing of the loon to his death. I am greatly afeared lest he may -have gotten away to Scotland. Did he not say something to me himself -about Scotland and the slip twixt cup and lip? He is a deep one as I -know to my cost. I would that this had happened earlier in the day. It -will be quite dark in about half an hour. Beshrew me, how came it that -the rogue was not tied?” - -“His wrists were tied, Father,” said the other voice. “I noticed that -just before we came to the river.” - -“Oh, I meant tied to the horse, but who would have thought of such a -thing! However, if the wrists were tied, belike it may have been an -accident and the knave must be dead. I trow it was but a dog’s chance. -Besides, one of those bullets must have hit him. The body must have -been swept down stream.” - -The surmise about the bullet was true enough, as Ian knew to his cost, -and the wound was an added pain. “It is wonderful what the human frame -can stand,” he said to himself. “I cannot think how I am alive at all. -I must win this game somehow and the next move is mine.” - -He slowly lowered himself into the water. The men had stood still, a -little higher up the stream, not twenty yards from where he was. It -was a trying test to his nerves, but he hoped he was concealed by the -brushwood on the flooded bank. - -He waited awhile and heard them discuss how a few of the party would -try and make search in the direction of Scotland and the remainder go -south. Apparently they were waiting for some of the others to join them -and the conversation turned to other subjects. - -Ian was standing on the bottom, but had to work his arms all the time -to prevent himself from being carried down by the current. His teeth -chattered and his fingers were numb with the pain of the cold. “If I -stay here any longer,” he thought, “the cold will finish me.” So he -struck out and by the aid of the brushwood swam within a foot or two -of where they were standing. It was an anxious moment and although the -stream was slacker near the bank it was slow work. But he passed them -unobserved, although he experienced a tumultuous wave of feeling when -the conversation stopped short for an instant and he feared that they -were listening. - -But at last he judged that it might be safe to creep out, and at first -he crawled and then walked quietly, but finally broke into a run, as -much for the cold as for any other reason; and, in twenty minutes from -the time he started running, he found himself at Andrew’s cottage. - -It was in a secluded spot, quite near the river, and about a third of -a mile from the Hall where Andrew was employed. He crept softly to the -window and peeped in. Andrew was there alone. So he knocked at the door. - -Andrew’s astonishment was immense as he opened the door and still more -so when he saw that his visitor was dripping wet. - -“Can you let me have some dry clothes, Andrew, and help me to get warm, -and provide me with something for the inner man?” - -“That I can, Master Mitchell,” and Andrew bestirred himself, brought -the clothes and made up a roaring fire and prepared a simple but -appetising supper. - -When Ian had finished he stretched out his feet to the cheerful blaze. -It was tempting to stay and rest after all his sufferings. The wound -in his shoulder was very painful, although Andrew had bandaged it, and -the sundry cuts and bruises made him feel very stiff. But there was -much to be done and no time to be lost. - -He talked things over with Andrew, very cautiously, as he was not -sure what line he would take. It so happened that the Hall was nearly -empty; the family and their immediate entourage were South during the -winter and the reeve was away on business with two of the other men; so -Andrew’s help in getting the horses was not needed after all. Ian led -him into all kinds of general gossip about the place and discovered how -many horses were kept and where the stables were, without exciting any -suspicion. Andrew offered to come with him to Holwick, but Ian doubted -whether it would not make matters more and not less difficult and -Andrew’s disappearance would itself give a clue. - -Luck favoured him, he found that the man who had charge of the horses, -while the reeve was away, was a drunken fellow, whose cottage was not -far from Andrew’s on the way to the Hall. Owing to the absence of the -reeve he was having a more dissipated time even than usual. It was his -custom to see to the horses the last thing at night, and Ian determined -on an attempt to get the better of him. - -Without explaining his movements to Andrew he said it was time for him -to be going, and he set out into the darkness. There was just enough -starlight to find his way and he soon reached Jock’s cottage. The man -had not returned, so Ian crouched down behind a tree to wait for him. - -He was trembling with excitement and apprehension and was disturbed in -spirit about the part of the venture in which he was engaged. He was -deliberately setting out to steal the horses and he felt that it was -a sin. He did not try to justify himself, although he had determined -that he would make all possible reparation so that the owner of the -horses would not suffer. He had written a note to his mother which he -had given to Andrew, just saying that if his adventure should miscarry -and Andrew did not hear from him shortly, he was to take it to Stirling -and ask for some relatives of his of the name of Menstrie, as he had no -relatives named Mitchell still alive. In the letter he had said that -she was to clear his honour as far as was possible by replacing the -horses if death should overtake him. - -Yet he did not feel that this in the least altered the crime; but he -argued to himself, that if the crime did not hurt any one that it was -only his own soul that would suffer. For that he was absolutely ready. -He would gladly give his life for Aline, would he not also gladly give -his soul? It was a great shock to his naturally upright nature and -when he had lied to Andrew and told him that he was going to make his -way south on foot, and while his blood boiled with shame within him, -he yet welcomed the sacrifice. “She shall have my honour and my good -name, she shall have my soul indeed as well as my life. Fate may crush -me in eternal torment at the last or annihilate me altogether; but -Aline must escape these fiends; she must live to be happy. Sweet little -child-heart, who never did any wrong to any one and whose short life -has been so sad and who yet has only been sunshine in the lives of -others, why should she be cheated out of her due?” - -As he wrestled with himself Jock came stumbling from side to side down -the path, babbling incoherently. Ian braced himself for the struggle -and, as the man opened the door and entered the cottage, Ian stole in -after him. He was utterly unprepared and, as Ian leaped upon him from -behind, he gave one wild shriek and collapsed. Ian tied his hands and -feet with his own cord that he had saved, put the man on the bed and -secured the key of the stable. - -He had comparatively little difficulty in getting out the two best -horses, taking the precaution of tying some sacking over their hoofs so -as to lessen the noise. Fortunately the wind was rising and a storm of -rain was clearly on its way. - -Before leaving he fastened a note at the stall-head: - - “I require these horses but will replace them when I reach - Scotland. Necessity knows no law. - One in great need.” - -He took the horses first in a northerly direction as though making for -Scotland, so that their tracks might throw pursuers off the scent. Then -when he reached the harder road, he followed it only a little way and -turned back south. Finally he struck over the high ground to the west, -hoping to get into another district altogether, where any travellers -that he might meet would not carry any description to the neighbourhood -of Kirkoswald. - -It meant a considerable detour and the inquisitors had a long start as -well; but he felt so certain that they would rest somewhere for the -night, that he felt very little alarm. Shortly afterwards the rain came -down heavily and he trusted that this would at least help to obliterate -the tracks. - -[Illustration: THE UPPER COURT SHOWING TERRACE AND TURRET-STAIR TO -ALINE’S ROOM] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -A DUEL TO THE DEATH - - -Meanwhile Aline had been having a very unhappy time. She was -practically confined to her room the whole day long, but she did come -down for the mid-day meal. Master Mowbray, strong as his Catholic -sympathies were, not only resented the interference of the priests in -his house, but was concerned at seeing the child look so starved and -ill, and therefore he had insisted on this much. - -It did enable Aline to get some nourishment, although she only had -bread and water for the rest of the time, and it did make a slight -break in the day, for she dared not use the secret stair except when -every one was in bed, for fear of any one coming to her room and -finding that she was not there. - -But the meals were anything but a pleasure. Master Mowbray would look -at her sorrowfully, but he scarcely ever said anything, and Mistress -Mowbray would make cruel biting remarks and watch the child wince under -them. - -Her poor little soul grew very sad and night after night she would cry -herself to sleep; “If only Ian would come--If only Ian would come.” - -She was some time before she actually grasped that the inquisitors -would take away her life; but one day when Father Ambrose was at -dinner he had tauntingly asked her whether she had repented of her -folly; and then, with a leer, had rubbed his hands and said:--“You -obstinate minx, they are coming for you right soon and ah, how glad I -shall be to see your long hair shrivel up and your pretty face swell -and burst in the fire.” - -Aline suddenly realised that he was in earnest and for the moment was -petrified with terror. Then she remembered that many children younger -than she had been martyrs in the old Roman days, and for the moment -there was a revulsion of feeling and she smiled to think that she was -worthy to suffer death in the Master’s cause. - -Richard Mowbray had not realised it before either, and was shocked -beyond measure. He said nothing to his wife, but decided to set off -at once for York to see the Archbishop, whom he knew personally, and -discover what could be done. - -He was on the point of forbidding Father Ambrose entry to the house; -but he restrained himself, as that would excite suspicion. He was -accustomed to going away suddenly for a few days at a time, so that -his departure that very afternoon surprised no one. He reckoned that -it would take him at least a week and told his wife not to expect him -before that time. - -When Aline reached her room, her feelings swung the other way again. -“Why should she die; what had she done? She was sure that God would not -wish her to die.” She waited till night and crept down to the secret -room. She did not often do this even at night, as although there was a -good store of candles she saw no prospect whatever of replenishing it -and was afraid of using it up. - -She sat down on the oak settle and tried to face the situation. If the -inquisitors came she must try somehow to escape and the incident of the -blue hose had suggested that she should do so in the garb of a boy. She -rummaged over the clothes that she found and set to work to put them in -order and adapt them for her own use. She chose the strongest things -that she could find and during the next few nights she managed with a -little alteration to fit herself out with a boy’s doublet, cote-hardie, -surcoat and a pair of trunks. She found an admirable mantle of russet -cloth that only required shortening and she herself possessed a pair of -strong sad coloured hose. - -She reckoned that it would not be possible to cut her hair before her -escape; so she prepared three hats, one that was very large into which -her hair could be put in a hurry, a medium one into which it could be -put if very tightly twisted, and a smaller one, that she could wear -with her hair cut short to the ears. - -She also began to lay in a store of provisions, saving all that she -could from her slender allowance, as she judged that it would be safest -to spend a week if possible, in the secret room until the first hue and -cry had subsided, if she should have to make the desperate attempt to -escape alone; but, poor child, her plan was frustrated. - -It was very cold in her little chamber, so she had been wearing some -extra clothing; she decided therefore that the wisest course would -be to dress exactly like a boy and wear what was necessary of her -own clothes on the top. So she put on a boy’s shirt and trunks and -stitched points to her hose and tied them to those on the trunks. -Over this she put a cote-hardie and then a belt with a dagger. Above -this again she wore a girl’s longer cote-hardie and above that again -a short surcoat. The medium sized hat was made of silk and the finest -kersey and was therefore easily concealed under her clothes. It had -a full silk crown and a brim turned up all round nearly to the crown -itself, with slits every three inches, giving it a sort of battlemented -appearance with the crown just appearing above the top. Old fashions -still lingered in the North and Ian had had one like it, which he -said resembled one worn by Prince Arthur of Wales. She was helped by -a little drawing which Ian had made for her when they were talking -about the well known portrait. When she had done she felt very proud of -her handiwork and the long mirror was a welcome joy at the end of the -doleful days. She looked out a sword for herself and practised making -passes. - -All was ready four days after Richard Mowbray’s departure and, three -days later, when he had not yet returned, there was a sudden stir and -noise in the outer courtyard while they were having the mid-day meal. - -“That will be Walter Margrove, I’m thinking,” said Mistress Mowbray. -“They always seem to make that man’s arrival an excuse for neglecting -their work, idle hussies and varlets all of them!” She rose as she -spoke and went out into the screens. Aline followed her. - -A tall priest had already crossed the threshold. “May I speak with -Master Mowbray?” he said. - -“Master Mowbray is away, you must ask what you want of me. Come this -way,” she said, and stepped out of the door at the other end of the -screens, so as to be away from the servants and Aline. - -“We have come,” said Father Austin, for it was he, “with a warrant for -the arrest of a heretic, a certain Aline Gillespie; see, here are the -seals thereon of Queen Mary and Bishop Bonner himself. It is well that -one be careful in these matters,” he said smiling grimly. “Some would -be content with lesser signatures and seals, but then their work might -be overset.” - -They had been strolling toward the further end of the quadrangle and -were nearing the entrance to the stair that led to Aline’s room. It had -only taken an instant for it to flash through Aline’s mind that the -hour had come and it was now or never. She followed quietly behind them -and hoped to be able to slip up the stair before they could catch her, -and was ready to make a dash as they turned. - -They turned just before reaching the door and Aline made a rush. - -“Not so fast, my child,” said the priest, stretching out a long -interposing arm. “Whither away? I may want speech of thee shortly.” -He turned with a look of sanctimonious triumph to Mistress Mowbray. -“Mother Church will clean your house of its vermin for you, madam,” he -said. - -Aline gave one little gasp of mortal terror and then stood dumb for -a second like a small bird caught by a beast of prey. She gave one -appealing look toward Mistress Mowbray and then swung round facing the -dining hall and paused a moment, with Father Austin’s hand still on her -shoulder. - -“I prefer to clear my own house,” Mistress Mowbray said icily. She -disliked the man, she disliked his interference. He could not have said -anything more foolish. Aline’s interference had been outrageous, but it -was nothing to this; at least the child was one of themselves. Mistress -Mowbray’s wrath raged at the insolence of this outsider. She looked -again at Aline, delicate, fragile, ethereal, and the thought of the -appealing look of the beautiful child at last thawed her hard heart. -“What if ever Audry should be in a like plight?” she mused. - -All this was in a flash, as she turned to Aline and looking her full -in the face, said,--“Audry, dear, run and tell Silas that there’s a -ratcatcher or something, who thinks that we have vermin in the house -and would like a job. You can also find Aline and tell her that he -seems to like catching little girls.” - -Father Austin dropped his arm at the name of Audry; and Aline, though -puzzled, ran off swiftly. As Mistress Mowbray finished her sentence, he -bit his lip; he saw that he had made a mistake. - -“Who is Audry, madam?” - -“Audry is my daughter,” answered Mistress Mowbray with her chin very -much in the air. - -“I thought that child there was Aline Gillespie,” said the priest. - -“So it was,” said the lady, calmly. - -“But you called her Audry, madam,” he replied, “and told her to speak -to Aline.” - -“Did I?” she said with well feigned surprise. “You confused me so with -your peculiar language.” - -Meanwhile Aline ran back to the screens, intending to go through and -cross the lower court and slip out over the drawbridge. She might reach -the stream and make her way up to the cave before any one clearly -grasped what was happening. - -But when she came to the further door she was met by a large crowd that -had followed the inquisitors and it was useless to try and make headway -against it; besides she saw Father Martin’s head appearing above the -rest away in the background. - -She turned back again with the head of the crowd and half mechanically -picked up a staff that was standing in the corner by the door, as she -passed into the court. She pushed her way past two men who were armed -with swords and were just stepping through the doorway. She might still -be able to get into the library and, desperate as the chance was, she -hoped to throw them off the scent by breaking a window before going -down through the kist to the secret room. - -Father Austin was still standing near the bottom of the stair to her -chamber. That way was closed; so she ran toward the small flight of -steps leading to the little terrace in front of the library. - -“Seize her, Hubert,” shouted the priest. - -The big burly man, addressed, rushed after her. Aline swung round -suddenly and hit him unexpectedly with her staff on the side of his -head and darted on. - -The man gave a great yell and the crowd roared with laughter, which -doubled his rage and, drawing his sword, he dashed again in pursuit. -Aline was fleet and reached the library door before he was half way -across the quadrangle. - -She feverishly grasped the handle. - -Alas, it was locked. - -As she turned back, Hubert nearly reached the bottom of the steps. Four -more paces and his sword would be through her. - -The heavy man took a great stride half-way up the stair. The hunted -child stood at bay. - -How frail and slight she seemed; only a delicate flower ineffectively -beautiful. The crowd stood motionless and held their breath, while some -closed their eyes. - -Hubert laughed at the absurd sight of the child barring his way. She -could no longer hit him unawares; he was armed and ready, he expected -nothing; when Aline, quick as lightning, by a dexterous turn of her -staff, twisted the sword out of his hand, and lunging forward, caught -him under the chin with her full force so that the big man overbalanced -and fell backward down the steps, stunned. - -Aline stooped and picked up the sword. Hubert’s fellow, however, was -close behind. - -“Kill her!” shouted Father Martin. - -“Slay the witch, Gilbert,” echoed Father Austin. - -As she picked up Hubert’s sword she had to draw back in rising and -Gilbert was already up the steps. He was a more active man than the -other, but he had taken in the situation and was no fool; so, child as -she was, he advanced more cautiously. - -Poor little Aline had to think and fight at the same time. What was she -to do? Even if she overcame this man, there were others; obviously she -could not fight them all. But she thought of a faintly possible chance -and, before Gilbert closed with her, gave a glance across the moat. -Could she cross it? As she glanced she saw a sight for which she had -been longing all these weary weeks,--it was a single horseman with two -horses, evidently making his way toward the gully. He was turning to -look back at the Hall. She saw no more, and straightway began a very -pretty bit of sword play. - -Gilbert proceeded warily and foyne, parry and counterparry followed -with monotonous precision. Aline kept very cool and at first attempted -little; but after a short time she tried a feint or so in order to test -him. She soon found that he was no mean swordsman; but she had learned -much from Ian, which he had brought from Italy and France; so Gilbert -in his turn discovered that she was not an opponent to be despised. - -He reckoned however that his greater strength must tell in the end and -took things somewhat easily. For a time therefore nothing happened, -but a little later, after a riposte on Aline’s part, Gilbert made a -counter-riposte and just touched her on the arm. He began to feel his -superiority and pressed in harder, while she gradually drew back a -little and a little along the terrace. - -Gilbert thought that he was slowly mastering her; but Aline was playing -for her own ends as her one slender hope was to let him wear himself -out. - -The crowd by this time were spell-bound and even the two priests were -overcome by the fascination of the scene,--the beautiful agile child -and the dexterous but far slower swordsman. The silence was intense, -broken only by the clash of the swords. - -Gradually they neared the end of the terrace. It was an awful moment -for Aline. The man was obviously getting tired, but she shrank from -trying to inflict a severe wound and he was far too skilful for her to -disarm him. There was nothing for it, however; and, when almost at the -little low wall at the terrace end, the instinctive struggle for life -began to tell and the fighting on both sides became more serious. - -Aline received a slight scratch on her left shoulder and this settled -the matter and nerved her to a supreme effort. - -As he lunged again she parried, made a riposte with a reprise following -like a lightning flash and swift as thought her sword was through his -heart and he fell dead on the pavement. - -The crowd gasped. Aline stayed not an instant, but leaped upon the low -terrace wall. Standing still for a moment she tore her outer garments -from her and stood there like a lovely boy, save for the great flood -of hair that had come entirely loose and that was caught on the windy -battlement and blown like a cloud high behind her. - -Then she paused and turning to the quadrangle thronged with people she -said: “How dare you play the cowards’ part, setting two armed men to -attack one small girl? God will punish you, Father Martin, and you, -too,” she said, pointing to Father Austin, “and the blood of the slain -man will cling to you and remorse shall tear your hearts. I am only a -child and it is little that I know, but I do know that there is no love -for a hard heart from God or from men. - -“And you, Elspeth, Janet and those I love; it is hard to say good-bye, -but I must go.” - -“Shoot her, shoot her!” shrieked the priests, “she blasphemes, she -takes the name of God in vain.” But the angry crowd surged round the -guard and would not let them move. One, however, broke loose and -raised his pistol; but as he did so, Aline, to the utter astonishment -of all, still holding the sword, dived into the moat. - -“Our Lady shield thee, St. Aline,” cried a voice from the crowd; and as -the wall was too high to see over, except from the terrace itself, they -swept up in a mass, the priests, the people, the guards and all. - -A few strokes took her over the water; Ian stooped and seized her under -the arms, drew her out of the water, lifted her on to the one horse, -vaulted himself on to the other and they fled like the wind. - -Shot after shot then rang out and the bullets whistled only too -alarmingly near them, but they were soon out of reach. - -“Mount and pursue,” shouted Father Austin, as he stumbled over the body -of the dead man, “and take this clumsy loon and bury him.” - -“The horses are tired, we need fresh steeds for that,” said one of the -guard. - -“Gramercy, take them from the Hall,” he roared. - -But no one would find the keys of the stable and Mistress Mowbray, -coming up a moment later, said in acid tones, “Take your own horses, -Sir Priest, warrant or no warrant you cannot steal, and if you touch my -horses I will have you hanged as a common horse-thief.” - -She looked at him triumphantly, the exercise of power delighted her and -she even felt a glow of reflected glory from Aline’s achievement. “We -know how to manage these interlopers,” she thought; “I am mistress of -this situation. Aline, you have done very well.” - -Father Austin looked cowed, and the sullen people stood in the way -and blocked the road. One managed to secure a stirrup, another broke a -girth, while a third removed a halter altogether. - -“You shall suffer for this,” said the priests, when they at length -reached the horses; but the attitude of the crowd was so menacing that -they became afraid for their very lives and finally had to fall back -upon entreaty before they were allowed to go away at all. - -The result was that the fugitives had two full hours start on good -horses, before Father Austin could get his little troop under way. - -“Had God sent a deliverer from the skies?” mused Mistress Mowbray, as -she sat and pondered the strange events of the day. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -A RIDE IN VAIN - - -As Aline and Ian rode over the rough ground they kept turning back; but -nothing was to be seen. They wondered what had delayed the pursuit, but -felt sure it would come. - -The snow had more or less melted and the day was clear, so that they -could see far behind them. When, therefore, they reached a place where -they could clearly see two miles and no one following, they slackened -pace, so as to give their horses every chance. - -Ian’s plan was to swim or ford the swollen river at the Weal, the long -pool-like stretch, of the Tees,--and then take the track to Garrigill. -His present anxiety was to keep Aline warm. He had brought away two -big heavy riding cloaks from Andrew, saying that he needed to be warm -sleeping on the hills. One of these he had put round Aline, but she -was at first very cold. The exercise, however, warmed her a little and -they did not dare to stop until they had put the river between them and -their pursuers. It was fortunate for them that there was no wind and -that the day, although cold, was bright and sunny. The hills looked -hard and colourless, but the sunshine seemed to conquer the austerity. - -They reached the river and negotiated it safely, Ian taking off his -boots and lower garments to keep them dry. When they reached the other -side Aline undressed and put on all of Ian’s clothes that he could take -off and they wrung out hers and hung them where they would best dry -with the motion through the air. - -Ian had obtained a sword and two pistols from Andrew, while Aline had -the sword with which she swam the moat. - -They passed through Garrigill without mishap. Ian was particularly -nervous of their being caught just as they reached a village, lest a -hue and cry should be raised that would stop them. He looked anxiously -back when they neared Alston, but no one was in view. It seemed best to -make no attempt to keep out of sight by detours, but simply to press on. - -Their foes, he guessed, would probably get fresh horses in Alston. -Oh, if only they had money to do the same! It was impossible to reach -Scotland that night, so the best plan seemed to Ian to be to rest their -horses at the loneliest part of the road beyond Alston, where they -could be concealed themselves and at the same time get a distant view -of the road. After a rest they might make a good run for it, as the day -was already getting on, particularly if their pursuers cantered their -horses from Alston and came up with them at all blown. Then in the dark -the best thing would probably be to abandon the horses and escape on -foot. - -They did as he had planned, and after they had rested an hour and -a half, during which time the horses had some oats, Ian saw their -adversaries about a mile behind. There were six of them and they had -been badly delayed getting fresh horses in Alston. They were galloping -rather wildly down the hill. - -Ian held his hand for Aline to mount and then vaulted into his seat -and they set off at a trot. The others saw them and put spurs to their -horses, yelling as they rode. - -“Keep cool, not too fast,” said Ian, “wait till they come much nearer.” - -Slowly their pursuers gained upon them, but Aline and Ian reserved -their strength. - -A mile they rode and the interval was lessened by a quarter; their -hearts were too full to speak; another mile and the distance was again -less by a quarter. Aline looked back: “Oh, Ian! We shall never get -away, and they will catch you, too. I wish you had not come to rescue -me. Do you think ‘Moll o’ the graves’ really does know anything about -what is going to happen?” - -“No, little heart, but do not be afraid, we have been helped so far. I -think we shall get away.” - -Another mile’s ride and they were only separated from their pursuers by -a quarter mile. - -Ian waited,--three hundred yards,--two hundred,--one hundred,--fifty. -“Now,” he said, “let them go,” and both riders lashed their horses and -the distance began to lengthen out again till it reached three or four -hundred yards. Three of their pursuers fell behind altogether, the -mounts they had obtained in Alston were not equal to the strain. One -was Father Martin, and it would have made Aline’s ears tingle if she -had heard the curses heaped upon her and Ian. - -The other three kept together for a time and then they also began to -spread out a little. At length there were forty paces between the first -and second, and a couple of hundred yards to the third. - -It soon became clear, however, that, though they need not fear the -third horse, both the other two would ultimately be a match for -them, nor would it get dark soon enough for them to escape. Ian kept -absolutely cool, but it was a terrible moment. If he were killed, even -if Aline did escape, who in the wide world would look after her? - -When the nearest horse was only about sixty yards behind he said to -Aline, “Ride on, I think I can deal with these fellows, but I wish -we had more pistols,--two shots will not see us far. Get to Carlisle -and find Matthew Musgrave. I doubt not he will smuggle you away over -the border; and, if I come not, when Walter Margrove arrives he will -somehow provide for you.” - -“But I won’t leave you,” said Aline. She looked at him so beseechingly, -that he knew it was useless to say anything. - -“Then you must do as I tell you. I am going to stop; you go on thirty -or forty paces beyond and then stop also. Be ready to dismount if -necessary. You are a good swordswoman, but you know nothing about -shooting.” - -Ian then reined in, turned and pointed his pistol at the leading horse. -The man was taken aback by the sudden move, but fired wildly as he -rode and the bullet whizzed past Ian’s head. It was only a matter of -seconds, but Ian waited to make quite sure and then fired at the horse, -which fell and brought its rider with a horrible crash to the ground. - -The second horse was treated in like manner; but its rider saw what was -coming just in time to slacken his pace and leap to the ground as the -horse fell. He then fired twice, missing the first time, but grazing -Ian’s left side with the second shot. - -He was a big powerful man and before Ian had time to step back and -mount, he was in upon him with his sword. Ian had time to draw, but -found that the man was no fool with his weapon. Time was precious, -too, for the third horseman, who had drawn rein for a moment, was now -advancing and would be upon them immediately. - -Aline, who had seen this, dismounted and shouted: “Leave him to me and -load your pistols”; but before she could reach them, Ian’s sword was -through the man’s neck. - -Luckily the horses stood; but he had only time to load one of the -pistols, while Aline mounted again, before the third man arrived. He -slowed up as he approached and attempted to fire from his horse, but -the pistol only flashed in the pan and missed fire. Again Ian brought -the horse to the ground, and as the man, who was not seriously hurt, -picked himself up, Ian said; “Well, good-bye, my friend, I am sorry -that urgent business prevents our waiting,” and springing to his saddle -he galloped off. - -Before the man could fire they were some distance away and the bullet -went hopelessly wide. - -“That’s twice I’ve been shot in three days, little one,” said Ian. -“It’s a mercy these fellows cannot shoot better.” - -“Oh, you never told me about the other,” said Aline, “and you must wait -now and let me attend to this; the blood is all over your arm and down -nearly to your knee.” - -“Indeed, I must not, sweet child, we shall soon have the rest of the -gang after us. In fact, I do not know what to do, the horses are -completely done and yet it is not safe to put up anywhere. Whatever -happens we must not be caught in a town. I believe it would have been -safer to have waited and killed them all.” - -Aline shuddered. “Oh, how awful.” - -Ian tore a piece off his shirt sleeve and stopped the bleeding of his -wound as well as he could, and they rode on in silence for a time, -till they came to the place where the road divided for Haltwhistle and -Brampton. The trees grew thickly by the stream and it was getting dark. -“Let us hide here,” Ian said. “They are unlikely to see us and we can -then go whichever way they do not. They cannot be here for some time, -so the horses can again get a feed and a rest.” - -They piled up some dead leaves where two fallen trunks made a sort of -shelter, did what they could for Ian’s wound and huddled together and -waited. - -At last, after about two hours, they dimly saw three horses. There was -only one rider, but the fugitives guessed that the others carried the -dead and the injured man. Four men walked beside them. - -“I can hardly move another step,” they heard one of them say. - -“I do not suppose you are as tired as I am,” said a second voice, -“besides I bruised myself pretty badly when that devil brought my horse -down. I shall be too stiff to move to-morrow.” - -“Well,” said a third voice, which both recognised as that of Father -Martin,--“This kind of game is not in my line anyway. Ride, ride, it is -nothing but ride. I shall be too sore to sit down for a week; when on -earth are you going to bring me to a place for a night’s rest? S’death. -I almost feel as though I did not care what happened to the villains, I -am so worn out. That’s three of my men dead; for I reckon Philip there -will never speak again. Fancy that little she-cat killing Gilbert.” - -“That’s you, Pussie,” softly whispered Ian in her ear. - -“Well, this is the way to Haltwhistle; that’s six miles nearer than -Brampton,” said one of the other voices, “and they are more likely to -have gone there to put us off the track. Anyway, we can get men over to -Brampton soon after daylight.” - -“Thanks for the information,” again whispered Ian. - -Gradually the voices died away in the still evening air, and finally -the sound of the horses’ hoofs also. - -“Thou art a naughty boy to whisper like that,” said Aline. - -“Marry, it was safe enough for such a noise as they were making.” - -They waited a little longer and then Aline put on her own clothes which -were now quite dry. She was also going to cut off her hair, but Ian -dissuaded her; so she braided it very tightly and concealed it with the -bonnet. - -They walked by their horses for an hour and then mounted and reached -Brampton at ten o’clock at night. They approached the small hostelry -and dismounted. “Can you give my page and myself supper and a night’s -lodging?” Ian enquired. “The horses will want a good rub down, too; -they are tired.” - -“Whence have you come and whither bound?” said mine host. - -“We’ve come from Alston to-day and we’re bound for Scotland to-morrow. -But show us a seat and a fire, this is no time for talk.” - -“Come in, then; but you should not be travelling to Scotland now; -there’s trouble on the border again and you may fall in with more than -you desired; but it’s none of my business.” - -At first the place looked empty; but there was a boy curled up on a -settle and fast asleep. - -Ian looked at him and to his surprise it was Wilfred. He hesitated -a moment before waking the lad; it seemed unkind, he looked so -comfortable; but it might assist toward Aline’s safety. So he lightly -touched him on the shoulder. Wilfred looked up and rubbed his eyes. -When he saw who it was a look of pleased surprise spread over his face. - -“What are you doing here, Will?” said Ian. - -“You said you wanted me to keep a look out for you near Brampton, -Master Menstrie; so Matthew and I, finding there was work to be done at -Naworth Castle, have come over here. Matthew is lodging at a house near -the castle, but as Master Forster, here, is a friend of Matthew’s, I am -staying with him. I was to go and help Matthew as soon as we had news -of you; but I have spent all my time on the road for some days. He will -be so glad to hear you have got back again. We heard in Carlisle that -you had been drowned, but I knew you were a great swimmer and felt it -could not be true and that you would go on to Holwick as you said. Did -you get there?” asked the boy. - -“Yes, I got there all right.” - -“And what did you do about the little lady?” - -“The little lady is safe so far,” said Ian, “and Angus, one of -the pages from the Hall, is coming with me to see if we can make -arrangements for her in Scotland.” - -“I am glad to hear she is safe.” - -“The boy, Angus, and I are leaving early to-morrow for Longtown. If -those rascals follow us up and you get a chance to delay them, do so. A -loose shoe proved very useful before.” - -William Forster, the innkeeper, brought supper, and Wilfred, who was -now thoroughly awake, boylike, was not averse to sharing their meal. - -“There’s a room prepared for you upstairs,” said Forster. “I suppose -your page will be all right on the other settle?” - -“Yes, that will do,” answered Ian. “You do not mind, little one,” he -whispered softly after the man had gone. “I think it is best.” - -“Of course not,” she answered. - -After the meal they sat by the fire for a few minutes, and Ian looked -across at the two boys, as they seemed. Wilfred was immensely better in -health and had entirely lost the half starved look. “He’s certainly a -beautiful lad,” Ian mused. “They make as fine a pair of boys as Aline -and Audry were girls. I must paint those two, just like that, if ever -we get safely through. I wish I could sketch them now.” - -When Ian had retired, Wilfred, who was fascinated by his companion, -tried to draw her into conversation; but she was very reticent and -pleaded that she wanted to go to sleep, which was indeed true. - -“You have a fine master now,” said Wilfred, “even though he is only a -carpenter. He doesn’t look like a man to have a page in those rough -home-spuns of his. But you are lucky, going round and serving him. I -wish I had the chance. I would die for that man.” - -“So would I,” said Aline quietly. - -“Then I’ll love you, too,” said the boy; “but you are right, we must go -to sleep.” - -In the morning Wilfred woke early, while it was still quite dark and -roused Angus, as Ian named Aline. “Go you and wake your master,” he -said. - -Aline found Ian and after a meal they took lanthorns out to the stable -and prepared to start. - -Wilfred helped them and chattered away to Aline, trying in every way to -lighten her share of the labours. - -While Ian was settling the score Wilfred took Aline aside: “Remember, -Angus,” he said, “that we are both willing to die for him; and if ever -I am wanted I am ready. He risked his life for me and I can never repay -him.” - -“Risked his life for you! When? I never heard of it.” - -Wilfred looked at her. “Do you mean to say he never told you?” - -“No, he is not the kind that would. Oh, I should like to stay and hear -all about it! But I must not wait, Master Menstrie will be wanting me.” - -“I wish I could tell you everything; but I am so glad that you love -him. I am sure that you and I would be great friends,--very great -friends; oh, if only I could go with you! But we must say good-bye,” -and then Wilfred hesitated, “I am sure I do not know how it is,” he -said shyly, “I sometimes used to kiss my best friend, Hugh, when there -was no one else near; but boys don’t kiss much. However, we two shall -never meet again and somehow I want to kiss you.” - -He approached her a little awkwardly, there were tears in his eyes, and -Aline let him kiss her. - -“Good-bye again, Angus, I shall not forget you,” he said. - -At that moment Ian returned and they mounted their horses and bade -farewell and rode off. - -The boy stood in the grey dawn, gazing regretfully after them down -the road. Then a thought struck him. He felt puzzled. “Why, I do not -believe that was a boy at all,--No, I am sure it was not. It must have -been the little lady herself. What a fool I was not to think of it -before. But fancy her taking a kiss from the likes of me!” - -They had hardly disappeared from sight, when he heard the clatter of -hoofs behind him and a body of armed men rode down the street. - -“Good morrow, my lad,” said their leader, “you are up betimes.” - -Wilfred had decided that it would be best to appear very communicative -and then perhaps they would not trouble to ask any one else. - -“Yes,” he said, “there have been some silly loons here, who did not -know what a good thing bed is on a cold winter morning, routing me up -to look after their horses,” and Wilfred half turned on his heel as -though he would go back to the house. - -“Not so fast, my lad,” said the leader, “who were they, and what were -they like?” - -“Oh, there were two of them, a man in homespun and his page, though why -he should have a page perplexed me not a little. Do you know who he -was, good sirs, I should like to know the meaning of it?” - -“That is not your concern, lad; come, can you tell me any more? Was he -a big man?” - -“No, he was about middle size; but very well built, with deep set grey -eyes and a fine face.” - -“Humph,” grunted the horseman, “deep set grey eyes, yes; to the devil -with the fine face! And what about the other?” he added. - -“Oh, he was a pretty slip of a boy.” - -“Were they armed?” - -“They both had swords and the man had pistols.” - -“That’s they, right enough; but one more question--Where did they come -from and where are they going?” - -“They came from Alston and arrived very tired last night.” - -“That settles it, and which way did you say they had gone now?” - -“Oh, they set off along the Carlisle road, long before it was light. -You don’t want to find them, do you? You’ll never do it if you stand -talking here; marry, you’ve got your work cut out for you if you want -to catch them.” - -“Come along, men,” said their leader. - -“They must be pretty well in Carlisle by now,” shouted Wilfred, as they -started off. “You will hardly do it.” - -“To hell fire with them; but we’ll get them yet”; and the horses -thundered down the road. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -AMAZING DISCOVERIES - - -Wilfred stood and rubbed his hands. “I would give a week’s pay to see -them in Carlisle,” he chuckled. - -Meanwhile Ian and Aline gently made their way along the road to -Longtown without mishap. They saw a small body of troopers once; but -the troopers took no notice of them. In the desultory border warfare -people went about their business practically unconcerned. Life had to -go on and, if they waited till there was no fighting, to all intents -and purposes they might, in those districts, wait for ever. - -“What are we going to do when we reach Scotland?” Aline asked, when at -the last it appeared that immediate danger was passing. “Old Moll does -not seem to have been right this time,” she added. - -“We cannot say yet, birdeen, there are many perils and difficulties -ahead, perhaps greater than we have yet passed. I wish I could shake -off the feeling of that woman. It is not that I believe any of her -prophecies. Of course they are all nonsense, but she is the very -incarnation of the spirit of evil, a continual oppressive reminder -of its presence in the world. There is no doubt, too, that she has a -snakelike inexplicable influence over people and puts evil suggestion -into their minds, just as some other people have exactly the opposite -power. To talk with Moll rouses one’s worst nature; to talk with some -rouses one’s best.” He looked at Aline and thought how wonderful -her power was. What was this power, mysteriously possessed by some -natures, that almost by their very presence they could change men’s -lives;--Aline and Moll might themselves be the warring spirits of good -and evil. - -“My only object for the moment,” he said aloud, “was to rescue you -from your desperate danger. I thought that then we might have time to -think out something. There are difficulties indeed; the country is in a -very unsettled condition, partly the troubles with England, partly the -religious troubles and the difficulty with the regent, Mary of Guise, -and France. But our first trouble is,--that I have no money and people -with no money always find it hard to live,” and he smiled a rueful -smile. - -“Neither have I,” said Aline, “at least not to live on. I have two gold -pieces with me.” - -“Well, you are richer than I am,” he said playfully. “It will help us -somewhat, while I find something to set us going. I left a note, too, -with Wilfred for Walter Margrove, in case he should come within the -next few days, asking him to send Wilfred to Canonbie with a little -money at once for our present needs.” - -“Wilfred,” said Aline, “is that Will Ackroyd?” - -“Yes,” said Ian, “I have a story to tell you about how I met him, but -we must leave it for the present. I am very perplexed about this matter -of making a livelihood.” He paused a moment and then continued;-- - -“I might find work as a carpenter, or perhaps there will be more call -for a smith in these turbulent times. But I cannot think what to do -with you. Even if I found some people with whom you could live and -worked to keep you, there would be all kinds of questions as to where -you came from and all about you?” - -“Then why not let me work with you as carpenter’s boy, like Will does -for Matthew Musgrave?” - -“What! and spoil your beautiful hands. By the way, though,” he added, -“what have you been doing to get them in such a shocking condition? I -have noticed it all along but my mind has been so full of schemes and -plans for our escape, that I have not been able to talk about it.” - -Aline told him the story and continued;--“Anyway, carpentry could not -be as bad as that.” - -Ian was shocked and looked at her thankfully. “I trust we have broken -the evil spell,” he said. “But, princess, you are a lady and such very -hard work is beyond that to which you have been used.” - -“Yes, I hope I am a lady and just because I am a lady it does not -matter what I am used to do. I can turn my hand to anything; I do not -mind. It is only common people who are afraid of demeaning themselves. -I have often noticed”--and then she suddenly stopped:--was not Ian -himself one of these “common people,” and was it not unmannerly anyway -for a real lady to talk like that? - -“Noticed what?” asked Ian. - -“Oh, just noticed that it is so,” and by way of changing the subject -she went on,--“but there is one thing I should mind;--I should mind -having to cut my hair short.” - -Ian sighed: “Yes, you must not do that, little one, we must think of -some other plan.” - -“But I have quite made up my mind and I am going to cut it,” she said -in her most queenly manner. She said it so firmly and cheerfully that -even Ian did not realise the struggle that was going on in the little -heart. - -“Well, princess, if it must be so, it must; but you need not cut it -above the shoulders. Many pages wear it down to the shoulders.” - -“Pages, yes, but not carpenters’ boys.” At the same time Ian’s words -gave her a gleam of comfort. That was not quite so terrible. It would -have a good start as soon as she could let it grow again. “Do you think -a carpenter’s boy could wear it down to his shoulders?” she asked -wistfully. - -“Certainly,” said Ian; “it might be a little peculiar, but if we -could afford to dress you a little more like a page though you were a -carpenter’s boy, I doubt even if any one would notice.” - -They had reached Longtown by this time, but Ian decided not to stop if -they could get safely over the border. They rode on, therefore, until -they met a small patrol near Canonbie but were allowed after a few -explanations to pass. - -At the little inn they made enquiry as to the news of the day. This -was surprising, but to Ian by no means altogether unexpected. The -Protestant feeling had been growing and some of the Protestant leaders -had met at the house of James Sym in Edinburgh and signed the first -covenant, called the “Godlie Band.” They were the Earl of Ergyl; -Glencarn,--the good Earl; Mortoun; Archibald, Lord of Lorne and John -Erskyne of Doun.[26] - - [26] The spelling of the names is taken from a surviving copy of the - covenant. - -But what was of immediate interest and importance to Ian was that the -Earl of Hawick[27] was at that moment raising forces in the border -shires, nominally to fight on the border, but in reality to be ready to -support the Protestant cause against Mary of Guise. - - [27] This is a fictitious title and likewise the border incident, - although there were several such affrays in this year. - -His headquarters were but a few miles away and Ian wondered whether it -was not his duty to throw in his lot with them. His own feelings on the -whole were friendly to England and he hated the policy that the regent -was pursuing of making Scotland an appendage of France, but if English -marauders invaded the border he was quite ready as a true Scot to fight -against them, although it was the religious cause that he had more -deeply at heart. - -“Methinks I ought to join them,” he said. “I have seen a good deal of -fighting in my day and I might be useful to the cause.” - -“I will go with you,” said Aline. - -“Nonsense, child, girls do not fight.” - -“Joan of Arc fought and why should not I?” she replied. - -“Joan of Arc was older than you and could stand a strain that would be -quite beyond you, little one, hardy as you are.” - -“But I should go as your page or attendant. Would you fight as -a trooper or on foot, because that, of course, would make some -difference?” - -“That would remain to be seen, but in any case it would be absurd for -you to be there. But it has given me a new idea, sweet child. They -would be glad of my services; and, as they are protestants, they would -be only too pleased to look after you in return.” - -“But I want to come with you.” - -He looked at her sadly; “It is out of the question,” he said. - -“Oh, but please let me.” - -“No, birdeen, you might be killed.” - -“Well, that would not matter. I have no friends or relatives in -the world to care for me; it might be the simplest solution of our -difficulties, if I died trying to help a good cause.” - -“You must not talk like that, Aline; I cannot bear to think of it.” - -“But I have made up my mind. I am coming. You might be wounded and I -might be just the one to help you and prevent your dying.” She drew -herself up as she spoke and Ian knew that further argument was useless. - -“In that case we can wait and rest here, in any wise for to-day, the -which we both need. I can then go and see the Earl to-morrow and -probably we can continue to rest for some days while he is recruiting -his forces.” - -They retired early. Aline had a little room with a glorious outlook. -Oh, how beautiful everything was and how good God had been to her. When -she was half undressed she sat down and gazed out of the window. So -this was dear Scotland again, the land of her birth. For the moment -the recollection of “Moll o’ the graves” clouded the prospect, but it -passed away. The sombre hills looked kindly in the gloaming. She felt -hardly able to contain herself for joy. - -It was true that she was about to face new dangers; but that did not -trouble her in the least. She would be definitely doing her duty, as -she conceived it, fighting for a good cause along with many others; she -would no longer be a hunted fugitive merely trying to preserve her own -life. - -She knelt down and prayed and felt happier than she had done since her -father died, happier even than during the best days in the secret room. - -So happy was she that she proceeded to cut off her wonderful hair, -just below the level of the shoulders, without the slightest twinge of -regret. “I wish I had Audry’s long mirror here,” was the only thought -that troubled her. - -Even this was unexpectedly gratified, for in the morning she was down -first and discovered a long mirror in a black oak frame, one of the -treasures of the hostel. - -As she was looking at herself Ian appeared. The sight cost him a pang. -“Oh, child,” he exclaimed, “what have you done?” - -“I’ve only made myself into a real boy,” she answered. - -Ian bit his lips; he would not have thought that he could have minded -so much. - -As they were standing there the door suddenly opened and a boy came in. - -“Hullo, Wilfred! is that you?” - -“Yes, master, I have brought a letter from Walter Margrove.” - -Ian took the letter and went over to the window seat on the far side of -the room to read it. - -“Wilfred,” thought Aline; “Wilfred”; it had a familiar sound -before, when Ian used the name on the road:--and he came from -Kirkoswald,--there was too a tale to be told as Ian had said,--and Ian -himself had been using an assumed name. Could it by any chance be the -boy of little Joan’s sad story? - -He held out his hand bashfully, and bent his head. As Aline took it he -said;--“I humbly crave your pardon, but I believe now I know who you -are.” - -Aline blushed and then she said quietly, “You have probably guessed -rightly. Whom do you think I am?” - -He looked at her for a moment. How could there possibly be any doubt; -there could not be two such beautiful people in the world; and he -had heard Walter and Andrew, besides Ian, allude to her unparalleled -loveliness. “You are Mistress Gillespie,” he said, and bowed awkwardly. - -Aline smiled sadly. “Yes,” she said, “I am and I believe I have just -discovered who you are. Your name is not really Ackroyd, is it?” - -“Yes, Mistress, it is,” he answered. - -Aline looked baffled, but he continued,--“However, I have never been -known as Ackroyd, as I lived with an Aunt whose name was Johnstone.” - -“I thought so,” she replied softly. “Come sit over here, for I have a -sorrowful tale for you.” - -She took his hand and the boy followed, lost in wonder and admiration. - -“I used to know poor little Joan,” she said very gently. - -“Yes, Mistress, I had guessed as much; we heard in Kirkoswald what had -happened,” and the boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that you did -everything for her that could be done and that she loved you.” - -Aline felt relieved, as she was spared the worst part of her task. “She -often used to speak of you, Wilfred, and before she went away, she gave -me her greatest treasures which you had given her long before; and I -was to try and return them to you. But, alas, I had to flee from armed -men at a moment’s notice in peril of my life and I have them not. But -they are safe and one day I will fulfil my charge.” - -She held out her hand. “Oh, I am so sorry for you,” she said, “but my -words are too feeble to say what I feel.” - -The tears were now running freely down the boy’s face, he took her hand -in both his and smothered it with kisses. “Oh, Joan, Joan, my little -Joan, how can I bear it? How can you really be dead and I alive? Why is -the world so cruel? Oh, Joan, if only I could have died for you.” - -Aline bent over and kissed him on the forehead. “She told me to give -you that,” she said; then, after a pause, she went on;--“I am only a -little girl and I do not pretend to understand things, Wilfred. But -think, if you had died as you have been wishing, poor little Joan would -have been as unhappy as you are now. These things are a mystery and yet -somehow I feel that the spirit of light in its own way and its own time -must triumph over the spirit of darkness. I have always felt that; and -now that I have my new faith, I am more sure of it than ever.” - -“I do not see how that can be,” said Wilfred, “and yet as you speak I -seem to feel better.” - -“I do not understand it myself,” said Aline, “but I have been right -before.” - -Wilfred looked at her. Had this wonderful child with the strange deep -dark blue eyes some power that other mortals had not? - -“Angus,” said Ian’s voice from the other side of the room, “Walter has -sent us some money; he also offers to help us in every way he can, and -there are some other items that will interest you about the rumours he -heard in Carlisle. They seem to think we rode through Carlisle and went -to Penrith or Keswick. I have written a short note to Walter, which -Wilfred can take back. Did you come in the night, Will?” - -“Yes, I got a lift on an empty wagon going back to Longtown. There was -straw in the bottom and I slept all the way.” - -“I am afraid _I_ could not sleep in a wagon,” said Ian. “Come and join -us at our meal, Wilfred.” - -They had their meal and afterwards sat and talked until it was time for -Wilfred to return. - -After he had gone, Aline and Ian set off to the camp where the Earl of -Hawick lay. When they arrived Ian asked if he might see the Earl, as he -wished to offer his services. - -The sentry looked at him very dubiously and then at Aline, after which -he seemed a little more satisfied, as she was better dressed. Finally -he called the officers of the guard, who subjected them to a similar -scrutiny. - -“I think I can see to your business, my man,” he said. - -“Thank you, I have a special message for my lord of Hawick,” said Ian. - -Aline started at the tone and looked at Ian: there was a quiet hauteur -about it that she had never heard before. - -The man seemed to notice it too. “Who is it that wishes to see the -Earl?” he said. - -“Say, Ian Menstrie, son of Alexander Menstrie; that will do.” - -Aline felt a little nervous; as she had never met a real Earl and -had something of the child’s imagination about the grandeur of such -personages. - -The officer returned very quickly, but the change in his manner seemed -almost to make him a different man. - -“Your Grace,” he said, bowing very low, “the Earl of Hawick is coming -at once.” - -“I said Ian Menstrie, not Alexander Menstrie,” answered Ian, looking a -little annoyed. - -“Yes, your Grace,” said the Messenger, “I made it quite clear; the Earl -of Hawick understands.” - -Aline was very puzzled, they seemed to have strange customs of address -in the army, but before she had time to think the Earl appeared. She -was a little disappointed. Was that an Earl? He was a fair figure of -a man, but was neither as handsome as Ian nor had he, she suddenly -thought, as she looked at the two men, the dignity of Ian’s carriage. - -“I am so glad to see you again, your Grace,” he said, doffing his -bonnet and bowing as the officer had done. “You are the very man we -want. I shall never forget how well you managed on that miserable day -at Pinkie Cleugh; and Scotland can never repay you for the rout of Lord -Wharton on the Western Marches on that cold February day. It was a -sorry remnant that he and Grey took back with them, and it marked the -turning of the tide. Our country was indeed at a low ebb then. - -“Of course you will share the command with me. I would willingly serve -under you, but these are my fellows and they know me; so I shall just -follow your advice. On my honour, you shall have all the glory, when it -is over; not that you used to care much for that kind of thing, and you -were really only a lad then.” - -Aline’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. Hawick continued,--“I heard -the news of the old man’s death about a week ago. It was somewhat of -a shock following so soon after your brother’s; but I said, that will -bring Ian Menstrie back to us if anything will. I am sure he will throw -in his lot with us.” - -Aline gasped. Who was Ian then, this carpenter-man, as she had thought -him? Even in the earlier days she had never supposed that he could be -more than a younger son of one of the lesser lairds. - -Ian seemed overcome and very sad. “Well, my Lord, if you must know,” -he said in as calm a voice as he could muster, “I am here by accident. -I have just had a run for my life, with my young page here, Angus -Gillespie. I am looking rather a sorry object, but let that pass. I -had not heard of my father’s death, or even of my brother’s. It is a -terrible shock.” - -“Poor fellow,” said Hawick, “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news -and you are looking a sad wreck. You must take as many days’ rest as we -can manage.” - -“Before I forget, I want to know if you can let us have a couple of -horses; these are not mine and I want to return them to the owner. I -also wish to know if you can spare a couple of troopers to take them -back to Kirkoswald. They can arrange the matter at Carlisle.” - -“Are they English horses?” - -“Yes.” - -“Ha! ha! ha! Fancy returning English horses across the border, when -once you have got them here. Well, you always were a strange fellow. -Yes, you can have as many troopers as you please, and horses and -anything you want.” - -Aline was very impatient to have Ian by himself and was glad when he -turned to go, after giving a brief account of his imprisonment and the -outline of his main adventures, avoiding all details. - -The Earl accompanied them to the inn and then took his leave, promising -to send Ian an outfit such as more became his station and, at Ian’s -special request, everything that under the circumstances could be -procured befitting a page of gentle birth. - -Aline was pleased to find no one in the hostel. Ian was tired and his -wounds hurt him, although Aline had attended to them regularly. He sat -down by the fire and sighed. - -It was a cold day and Aline crouched at the hearth-stone by his feet. -She put her hand on his knee and looked up. Ian’s eyes were full of -tears. Aline had never seen anything like this; she stood up, stroking -his head with her delicate hand and kissed him on the forehead. - -He did not speak, but drew her gently to him. The child threw both her -arms about his neck and seated herself on his knee. “Oh, I wish I could -comfort you,” she said. - -It was too much for Ian and two great tears actually rolled down his -cheek. “My Father,” was all that he said. Then making an effort, he -controlled himself and looked at Aline’s beautiful sympathetic little -face. A curious feeling passed through him. He had lost his father; and -his father had never been kind to him, and he had gained this child, -who was devoted to him. Was this God’s recompense? - -He passed his fingers through her short locks. “What have you done with -all the glory you cut off?” he said. - -“It is upstairs. I plaited it in four plaits.” - -“May I have some?” he asked. - -“You may have it all if you like.” - -“It was a big sacrifice, child-heart,” he said softly, and kissed her. - -“May I ask you something,” she said, “even though it does make you sad: -but I would rather learn from your own lips? You know you have not told -me who you are. Who are you?” - -He paused a moment, while he continued gently stroking her hair. “I am -now the Duke of Ochil, little one.” - -Aline rose from his knee and crouched down on the hearth again. She -gazed up at him wonderingly. In after years as she looked back she -understood her feelings; but at the time they were a perplexity even -to herself. So far from being pleased that he was a duke, she resented -it. It seemed to put a barrier between them;--his Grace, the Duke of -Ochil, could not be the same as her dear friend Ian. - -Ian saw the expression on her face and half-guessed its meaning. “It -does not please you, heartsease,” he said. - -She looked up quickly and then said simply,--“I do not know. It is -strange.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE BATTLE OF LIDDISDALE - - -The days slipped by and when Hawick had mustered two thousand foot and -some 300 horse he decided to move northward up Liddisdale. The Duke -of Ochil nominally commanded the cavalry, but was really the guiding -spirit of the whole. - -Angus, that is Aline, acted as Ochil’s page or squire and was soon -very highly in favour with all the officers. She was, however, very -uncommunicative and kept herself to herself, the which she found much -easier, in that there was a reserved hauteur about Ian when dealing -with those that were at all his equals, which he never displayed when -dealing with inferiors. At the same time every one’s respect for him -was very marked and his power over the men was immense. This new aspect -of his character interested Aline not a little. - -There had been rumours for some time of a gathering for an English -raid upon Scotland and early on the morning of the third day after -leaving Canonbie, their scouts brought word of the presence of an -English force, three thousand strong, that had moved up the Tyne from -Bellingham. - -Before setting forth, the Duke of Ochil spoke a few words of -encouragement to the men. “It may seem,” he said, “that neither on -their side nor on ours are there enough to make our encounter of great -moment, yet is there more in the balance than that of which ye may be -in any wise aware. Our country is in the hour of her trial and a little -thing may decide the final outcome. On the one hand there is France and -on the other hand there is England, both eager to swallow her up. Yet -are there greater issues than this,--not only is the freedom of our -bodies at stake, but the freedom of our souls and not only of our souls -but of those of mankind. - -“Our host is small and our deeds may be obscure; yet though fame is -not likely to be ours, that which we do this day may well be the -foundation of greater things and by our blood we may purchase liberty -of conscience throughout the whole world. No deed is ever so small -as to be of no account and if we play the coward it may be the small -beginning that shall bring upon the nations an avalanche of woe. - -“It is for the higher that we strive,--for all that is noblest in man -against all that is low. Yea, I know that many of you here, yourselves -forget the glory of our destiny, zealous though ye be within your -lights. Yet it is the fight of enlightenment against darkness. It is -truth and development, love and beauty against all that is narrow and -stagnant, false and ugly. And if victory be with us, see how great is -the charge upon us that we ourselves do not fall short of our high -endeavour. - -“I have said that our host is small and our deeds must be small -likewise, and yet it is not a little thing that I ask of each -individual man. I ask all that ye have, I ask your lives. Nor do I -presume to say that the Lord is on our side, but I do say that if each -do act according to his conscience, while putting aside all prejudice -and all bitterness of heart that might narrow that conscience, it is -not for us to fear the issue. Yea, as far as our minds may discern, we -fight for God and our country.” - -So he spoke, and there went up a great shouting, “For God and for our -country.” - -It was a still cold day and the very air seemed tense with the issues -involved. Aline’s heart beat with excitement, yet she was surprised how -calm she felt. “Surely I am afeared,” she said, “and yet I am full of -gladness and am ready to give my life, as Ian has asked.” She rode upon -a grey charger carrying the banner of Ochil which she had hastily made -at Canonbie with her own hands;--azure, a fesse between three crescents -argent.[28] Ian lacked Aline’s happy disposition, and looked troubled, -but his resolution to do or die was no whit less determined. - - [28] A blue field divided horizontally by a broad silver band; two - silver crescents above and one below. - -The English cavalry were, as usual, immensely superior in numbers, and -while the Scots forces were forming their line, they hoped to press the -advantage by a charge, which at the same time should cover the advance -of their own infantry deploying out of the valley. - -The Scots were in two ranks, with the reserves below the crest of the -hill, every front man, the butt of his pike against his right foot and -the point breast high, the while those behind crossed their pike points -with those forward. Ian held his horsemen back on the right flank, -while the bowmen were on the left. - -The enemy charged swiftly over the haugh, their gay pennons a-flutter -on their lances, a brave sight to see. And as they came they -shouted;--“Down with the heretics; come on, ye coward loons.” - -“For God and our country,” the Scots replied, as the wave of Southrons -hurled itself upon the bristling pikes, only to break and scatter as -many a man of that goodly host met his doom. - -Ian taking them at a disadvantage led the Scots’ horse in a -counter-charge and menacingly they thundered over the plain, so that -despite his smaller force he drove them behind their own lines and -numbers more of the English bit the dust and among them the Lord of -Almouth, their leader, a noble and brave youth who received a lance -thrust in his side and fell to earth gripping the soil with both his -hands in the agony of death. And many a gay Scots gallant lay on the -ground between the hosts and the corbies gathered in the air watching -for their time to come. - -Then for a while the battle fell to those on foot and furiously they -fought and many doughty deeds were done on either side that day. But -terrible was the slaughter, as neither party would yield the advantage -to the other; and the shouting of the fighters mingled with cries of -the wounded, and ever and anon there boomed the roar of the artillery -in the which the English had the better of the Scots. - -The fight was stubborn and Aline’s mood, at first all eager, now gave -place to one of dread, the light began to fail and a voice within the -air seemed to whisper, “Whensoever the day goes down, the spirits -of darkness will gather for your destruction and then it will be -too late.” She even thought she saw “Old Moll” stalking through the -battle-field and gloating over the slain. - -The battle wavered from side to side and at length it seemed for the -Scots as though all were lost. They had sadly given way and at the -direst moment of their need the Earl of Sanquhar, a man of great valour -and a tower of strength, was shot by an English archer and the arrow -went in at his throat and pierced right through his neck and he fell -forward speechless and the dark mist clouded his eyes. Then the Scots -wavered and fell back still more and the end seemed come and had it -not been for the Earl of Hawick himself, they would have been utterly -worsted. He rushed into the fray and heartened the wavering host and -they made a great onset and the battle stayed not. - -Yet did the cannon of the English work sore havoc in the Scottish -ranks, whensoever they were not in close combat, and the Duke of Ochil -came to the Earl and said; “My Lord of Hawick, I will endeavour to -capture them and we may even turn them on our foes.” - -He spoke and Aline followed hard after, and he led his men behind the -hill to the other flank and then made as he would charge the footmen -on the English right. But, as he came near to them, he swerved and, -passing round, he advanced to the mouths of the guns, and left and -right his men fell on either hand and their souls fled from them; but -Aline rode safely at his side. - -And they came right over against the gunners and one of them did shout -lustily and swing his rod over the Duke and would have felled him to -the earth had not Aline driven the point of her long sword through his -mouth even as he shouted, and he fell backward and was trampled under -foot, while the rod fell harmlessly upon the saddle bow, and the rest -turned to flee but were cut down and not a man of them escaped. - -“Thou art indeed the good angel of my destiny,” said Ian; but he spake -not more at that time, as the fight was heavy upon him. - -Then were the English guns turned upon the English host and fear got -hold of them, brave men though they were, for that they were taken -behind and before; and as they shook and hesitated the Duke with the -two hundred that were left to him charged toward them from the rear. -And Aline went ever at his side. - -But the English horse made haste to come at him from far on their own -right, and take him in flank, or ever he closed with those on foot. And -as the English foot turned, some this way toward the Scottish horse, -and some that way toward the Scottish foot, a mighty shout arose in the -Scottish ranks as they closed with the English; “Now are they delivered -into our hands,” and they waxed ever more terrible till confusion fell -upon the men of England and the half of them broke and fled and thus -hindered the more part of their own horsemen from coming at the Duke. - -So he fell upon the other half and victory came on a sudden into his -hands; for all the English were now in flight and the left wing of -their horse that would have taken the Duke in flank fled also. - -And as he thanked God for his triumph he looked back and his heart -failed him, and he shuddered and his breath stood still, for Aline was -no longer to be seen, in that the grey horse had gone down at the last. - -As he gazed his head swam and darkness came over him. Victory was his, -but Aline was lost. He calmed himself and held his spirit in check and -even as the wind races over the hills, his thoughts passed through him. -“The enemy is scattering on every side. My work for my country is done -and therefore may I now turn to that which concerneth my own life.” - -There was not a moment to be let slip, the remnant of the right wing -of the foemen’s horse was still unbroken, and although too late now to -effect their purpose, yet, if so be that Aline were still alive, they -would pass over the very ground where she must be lying or ever a man -might run thither, however swiftly he sped. - -He swung round and galloped apace, and there, dead upon the earth, was -the grey horse, and by it, on the side next the foe, lay stretched the -fair slim page still clutching the banner with the silver fesse. - -“Surely it will be my own death,” he said, as the horsemen bore down -upon him. For an instant the thought unnerved him, but natheless he was -at her side. “What matter,” he cried, “the day is won, my work is done, -and, Aline dead, of what avail is life to me?” - -He leaped from his horse. It was too late; even now they were upon him; -he might not lift her to the saddle and bear her away. - -“Can I not break the tide with a barrier of slain steeds?” he said. -Then swift as the lightning flashes in the heavens, with his right arm -he swung her over her own dead horse, while with his left he raised a -fallen pike. He leaped back and kneeled before the horse, gripping the -pike full firmly, whose butt rested on the ground, while with his right -hand he drew forth a pistol from his holster. - -On they came, they towered into the sky, the air was filled with their -shouting and the thunder of their hoofs. A single man! They heeded him -not. - -He fired, and the horse that would have trampled him fell low. Neck and -croup over it rolled upon the ground and the horse behind, that strove -to leap above it, received the pike in its heart, while Ian narrowly -avoided destruction under the falling mass. - -Then as a stream meets a boulder in its course and straightway divides -on either hand, so passed the warriors on the left and right. - -The rider of the first fallen horse lay in the throes of death, but the -second rushed upon him with his sword so that the Duke had but scant -time to draw and defend himself, and the sword cleft the Duke’s helm -and the wound was deep. - -Yet it was no long time they fought, for with swift skill the Duke -drove his sword throughout his body and he fell with a loud cry to the -ground, stretching his arms to heaven, and Ian drew out the steel and -with the blood the life rushed forth and black night covered his eyes. - -But Ian, even as he did so, turned to where Aline lay, her face all -white amid the ruddy gold. He leaned above her. She was not dead, nor -even sorely hurt, but stunned and dazed and cut about and bruised. - -He raised her with great tenderness and bore her from the scene of -carnage just as the evening fell. A cold breath blew upon his face -and he fancied he heard a voice that hissed--“Woe’s me, we are foiled; -it is on us the blow has fallen, even ere the darkness came. Too late, -too late.” At that moment the sun sank and the light vanished behind -the hills. The rout was now complete. Here and there a few individuals -made stand against their pursuers, while little groups of wounded men -were crying for succour. The haugh was littered with so many corpses -of those who had gone forth that morning in the healthful beauty of -their youth, that it was a sight most grievous to behold. Ian stumbled -with his burden. He himself had been twice sadly wounded again. Whither -should he go? There were no houses in sight. - -He remembered, however, that the house of the Laird of Dalwhinnie was -only about two miles away. There was nowhere else to go, but both -the new wounds and the old were exceeding sore and it was with great -difficulty that he carried her. - -He bore her to the foot of the hill and summoned four troopers, and -with their assistance mounted a horse. He would not let any one else -touch the child and, accompanied by the troopers, he rode to the house. - -The laird was not a protestant, but Ian was graciously received and -offer was made to accommodate as many of the wounded as possible. - -“You had liever pay special attention to those poor English varlets,” -said Ian. “There will be few to give them heed.” - -The Lady smiled a sad smile and led the way to a beautifully appointed -room. “Your Grace has a wondrous fair child with you,” she said. “I -marvel not at your care for him. Is he sore hurt?” - -“I trust not,” said Ian, as he laid Aline gently down. He dared not -let any one help him, lest Aline’s secret should be discovered; so he -dressed her wounds himself and put her to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE BIRTHDAY PARTY - -After the battle the Earl of Hawick disbanded the greater part of his -forces, retaining but a small nucleus in case it should be necessary -to bring military aid to the party of Argyle and Glencairn in support -of their covenant against the regent. With this small force he moved -northward. The Duke was far too sore hurt to travel and neither he nor -Aline were able to move for some time. - -As soon, however, as they could sit a horse they set out for the Castle -of Menstrie, where they arrived in due course and were most warmly -welcomed by the Duchess of Ochil and her daughter Shiona, who had been -anxiously awaiting Ian’s return after they first received news of his -arrival in Scotland. - -His mother was overjoyed to see him and he briefly told her the story -of the child. When he had finished she kissed Aline and said, “You poor -sweet thing, now at last you have reached a haven of rest and you must -count me as your mother as far as I can be one.” - -Aline had not before felt shy of her boy’s clothes, but the gentle -courteous lady made her long for her own things and she blushingly -began to apologise. - -“You need not distress yourself, dear child,” said the Duchess; “we -can soon remedy that. Indeed you look very pretty and you make so -graceful a page that you need not regret your present garb,” she added -kindly and stooped and kissed her again. “We shall just make you one of -ourselves and you have only to tell us what you want. For the present -we can send over to Stirling and get everything that you absolutely -need this very day.” - -In the evening, as they were all sitting by the fire, the Lady of Ochil -leaned over and, taking Ian’s hand, said: “I have some sad news for -you, my boy. You know that the estate was very sadly impoverished when -your father succeeded. But he has been extravagant and your eldest -brother was the same, and always borrowing from him. Worst of all, your -brothers induced your father to make over to them during his lifetime, -all the estates that he could. The regent, too, has already shown her -hostility on your succession. It is a very long story; but you will -have little but the title and the small original estates round the -Castle. Even those are so burdened that I doubt whether we can continue -to live here.” - -“Do not mind, Mother, about me. I never expected anything, and so I -shall not miss it; it is for you that I am sorry. You will feel the -change so much.” - -“No, my son. I am so glad to get you back that I mind nothing.” - -Aline rose from where she was and sat down again on the floor at Ian’s -feet. “I am so sorry for you,” she said, and once more she had that -curious kind of feeling that she had noticed before. She _was_ very -sorry for Ian; but was she altogether sorry for the fact in itself? Did -it not in some way bring them closer together? - -Ian’s sister, Shiona, had always worshipped her second brother; he -was unto her as a god, and as she watched Aline it rather amused her -to see, as it were, herself, over again, in the way that the child -continually hovered round him. She was the youngest of the family, and -now a tall slim girl of seventeen. She felt curiously shy of Ian, as -she had not seen him for several years. He still looked very young; but -he was now the head of the house in her father’s place. - -She soon fell under Aline’s spell and the two girls became fast -friends. Except in appearance and physique Aline was much in advance of -her age; and her recent experiences had matured her view of life. The -girls occupied the same room and were continually together when they -could not be with Ian. Ian sometimes felt even a little touch of envy; -he had come to regard Aline almost as though she specially belonged to -him. - -It was a time of considerable trouble and anxiety, both in public and -private affairs, yet it was a very happy household in spite of all -their troubles and difficulties. Ian was very slow in recovering his -strength. Excitement had carried him through, but the collapse was all -the more severe when it came. For two months he could move but little; -however, he gradually began to be able to take short strolls out of -doors. - -Even before this he had set his mind to see what could be done to -save the remnant of the estates. Rigid economy had to be practised, -for he was determined that property that had been in the family for -hundreds of years should not go if possible. Unfortunately only a small -portion, even of the fragment, happened to be protected by entail. -Consequently he found it necessary to reduce the fragment still further -by selling two estates that had been acquired by his grandfather. -They were so heavily burdened that the margin was very small, but it -enabled him to prevent the foreclosure of his most pressing creditors. -All the retainers and servants were dismissed except one serving man -and a maid, the horses were sold and the castle was all shut up except -the hall, the library and a few bedrooms. The arras, the plate and -everything of value except the heirlooms were sold. The only thing Ian -retained was a famous sword, given to him by the Regent Arran for his -services against the Lords Wharton and Grey. It was of immense value, -magnificently jewelled. He took it out and looked at it. No, he could -not part with that. It was too full of association and interest. - -The household arrangements were simplified to the barest necessities. -The girls did the housework and Ian himself, when necessary, assisted -the serving man. He wore the simplest homespun and his sister dressed -as plainly as possible. Ian refused to allow his mother to wear the -things that the rest of them did, because, he said, they all had the -future before them in a way that she had not. - -She smiled and kissed him, and assured him that she would be quite -happy whatever she wore, as she had her dear son back again, and she -chaffingly impressed upon him that it was still long before she would -be an old lady. - -Aline absolutely insisted on wearing things that even Mistress Mowbray -would not have provided, both gowns and body linen. But they were -beautifully made by Shiona and herself, and although the material -was coarse, the general effect was always charming. She succeeded in -getting some frieze in excellent shades of green and brown, that made -most pleasing colour combinations with the brownish white of the full -sleeves and skirt of her coarse dowlas chemise, and the rich red of her -glorious hair. - -The result of the new Duke’s efforts was that he gained the respect of -every one; and two of his largest creditors came to him one day and not -only said that they would not press for payment, but offered to lend -him more at a much lower rate of interest. This offer he accepted and -paid off a number of smaller creditors, who lived at a distance and did -not know what was going on. - -After a few months he brought things into such a condition that, though -he saw no prospect of being anything but poor all his life, he hoped to -leave the property in a fairly sound condition when he died. - -There was one little extravagance that he had determined to allow -himself. Aline’s thirteenth birthday took place in April and he -resolved that she should have the happiest day of her life, if human -means could accomplish it. He pondered for a long time how it was to be -done; because he regarded the property rather as a trust than in any -way his own. At last he bethought him of the sword. That at least was -his own. It was, it was true, his most cherished possession; but he -would part with it. He took it out one evening and fingered it fondly. -Truly it was beautiful and the only relic of his early youth. Other -things might be replaced, but that could not. Moreover it would be a -joy forever, whereas a day’s pleasure was soon gone by. “’Sdeath. How -could he think such things?” He hated himself. So he resolutely shut -the case and turned the key. “What was a sword compared with Aline’s -happiness?” - -He had to take his sister into his confidence, as he wanted Aline to -have a complete outfit for the occasion, and this Shiona was to arrange -unknown to her. Ian took the sword to a goldsmith in Stirling, but the -man did not like to take it, the sword was so well known and considered -as one of the local marvels. At last he persuaded Ian to let him lend -him the value of the sword, allowing a year in which it could be -redeemed. Ian gave the man a few commissions to execute for the great -occasion and departed. - -Everything was planned with all secrecy and Aline was not told about -it till two days before, when a number of persons arrived to put the -old place into order. The old rooms were thrown open and cleaned, the -arras, that had been sold, was temporarily replaced by other fine -specimens. Sconces with hundreds of candles were brought and the floor -and the furniture and the metalwork was polished till all shone like a -mirror. The old heirlooms, including the magnificent nef[29] and other -gold and silver plate, which Ian could not sell, but which had been put -away, were brought out. - - [29] A gold or silver centre piece for the table made in the shape - of a ship. - -The beautiful old castle had never looked finer. Serving men and -maids, pleasantly attired, were everywhere at hand. There was a new -costume for every one. Ian’s was of very simple material, but he looked -wonderfully handsome when he met Aline on the morning of the great day. - -“I have a very nice present for your birthday, princess,” he said, -stroking her hair, “but it will be rather a shock at the same time, so -you must prepare yourself for it. I have been thinking that you need a -lady’s maid,” he went on, laughing, “and I have succeeded in finding -you one.” - -“Marry, I need no lady’s maid,” she replied, somewhat puzzled at the -twinkle in his eye, “and you must not think of such a thing. I prefer -to look after myself. I am not a grand lady and, even if I were, I -would rather not have one. I am sure I should not like her.” - -“I am sure you would,” said Ian, “and in any wise you must try and like -her, because I insist.” - -“You must not tease me, your Grace, I really do not want one.” - -“I will not be called ‘your Grace,’ pussie,” he said, gently pulling -her hair. - -“Well, if you get me a lady’s maid, I shall call you ‘your Grace’ and -then we shall all be grand together.” - -“But I have gotten her already. I heard of her in a curious way in a -letter from Walter Margrove, but I kept it as a surprise until I could -get hold of her.” - -“Oh, but really, Ian, I do not want her,” Aline protested. “I should -hate her. Yes, by my troth, I should,” and she looked genuinely -distressed. - -“You would not hate this one,” he replied a little sadly; “it is some -one that you know. But I must not tease you.” - -“Do you mean Audry?” she asked doubtfully. - -“That would not be a shock, sweet child. No,--here she is.” He then -beckoned to some one out of sight through the open door; and a slim -girl of nearly twelve came shyly forward and stood hesitatingly on the -threshold. - -Aline gave a little startled glance and then looked at Ian, who smiled -reassuringly. “O Joan,” she cried, “they told me you were dead.” - -“I was very ill,” said the child, louting low, “but I was not dead, -Mistress Aline; it was the little girl that came from Barnard Castle, -who died, whom Mistress Ellen Allen had sent to Durham from Teesdale -too, much in the same manner that you sent me.” - -“But how did the mistake happen, Joan, and why did you not let me know?” - -“The woman that was looking after me died, and I was taken to -Newcastle. I was ill, oh, so ill for a long time and I knew nothing -about it, and when I heard, I could not for long enough get any one to -write for me and then, at last, I was told that you had disappeared. -When Walter Margrove heard about it he looked me up in Newcastle and -then, some time after, he told me that I was to go into service with -the Right Honourable Sir Ian Menstrie, Knight of the Most Noble Order -of St. Michael, Lord Duke of Ochil and Earl of Strath Allan, and I was -so frightened.” - -Ian could not control himself and the child had to pause while he -laughed. “Whoever put all that into your head? Never mind, you can -forget it,--just go on.” - -“It was Walter Margrove, your Grace, and he told me not to be afeared, -as I should find some one that I knew. But it was not till I came here -last night that I knew who it was and, oh, Mistress Aline, I heard what -you were saying just now and you will not hate me really, will you?” - -“No, Joan, no, I will never hate you and indeed I am so glad to see you -looking so much better”; and Aline flung her arms round the child’s -neck and kissed her, while tears of joy stood in her eyes. - -For a time the children forgot everything but themselves and Ian stood -and watched them in their perfect happiness. Aline was very much taller -than Joan and in contrast with the frail delicate child looked like a -goddess of strength. Joan clung to her in ecstatic abandon and gazed -into those wonderful ultramarine blue eyes as though they were the -windows of heaven. “I never knew before what it was,” she said, “to be -perfectly happy. Mistress Aline, I think the old folk at Holwick were -right. You cannot be a child of ordinary flesh and blood like the rest -of us.” - -“Hush, Joan, you must not talk like that, and I told you long ago that -you must not call me Mistress Aline. But, oh, I am so glad to get you -back; you cannot tell how glad.” - -Ian was just going to steal away and leave them to their joy, it was so -pure, so unalloyed, when Aline suddenly bethought herself of him and -leaving little Joan she rushed forward, seized his hand with both her -own and pressed it to her lips. “It was you who thought out all this; -oh, you are good to me.” - -She lifted up her face and he printed a kiss on her forehead. “No, -princess; you remember my quotation from Homer. It is you that are good -to me. I owe you everything--I do not mean mere physical life--that is -nothing--nothing.” - -The guests were to arrive at what a later age would have deemed the -very early hour of eleven o’clock, so after breakfast Ian suggested -that Aline should go upstairs and get ready. - -“But I am ready,” she said. - -“You cannot appear like that,” said Ian. “You must get Shiona to tidy -you up,” he said with assumed severity. - -“But I have nothing better than this,” she answered, just a little -wistfully. - -“Oh, yes, Shiona has some kind of a thing that will look better for -to-day. Run along with her and take Joan; it can be an apprentice -lesson for her.” - -When Aline reached her room she was lost in amazement at the things -that had been prepared for her and was charmed with them all. Shiona -helped her to dress and Joan folded up the things she took off and put -them away. - -The linen was of the very finest quality that French looms could -produce, smoother to the touch than anything she had ever worn, and -adorned with bands of _tela tirata_. There was a pair of the fine silk -hose that had recently been introduced into Britain, of a beautiful -blue, somewhat lighter than those she had lost, and with white clocks. -The broad toed shoes were of white kid, with blue satin showing through -the slashes, and a large real sapphire set in silver on each shoe. - -The camise was of soft white silk rather full, smocked at the throat -and reaching below the knees, with two bands of lace insertion of the -finest Italian _punto a reticella_ near the hem. Above this Shiona put -on the armless surcoat, which was low at the neck and short, showing -the white camise both above and below as well as the arms, which were -full at the shoulder but tighter toward the wrist. This was decorated -round the open sides with orphreys or borders of cloth-of-silver -embroidered with white heather, the badge of the Menstries, in which -the little white blooms were real pearls. - -The cloak was of rich blue velvet with two exquisitely designed diamond -clasps and tasselled cords of white silk, the whole lined with white -satin and adorned with a short cape and border of miniver. In the two -lower corners and again near the clasps, it was delicately embroidered -with coloured silk and gold and silver thread, after the fashion of -old Scandinavian work. A belt of large rectangular silver plates, each -with its own sculptured design, and a chatelaine of gold completed the -costume. It was a little old-fashioned in style, but Ian preferred the -lines of the earlier date to those that were coming into vogue. - -Aline was so overwhelmed with delight that she did not at first pause -to reflect; but after a time she suddenly exclaimed horror-struck; -“Shiona, what are you doing; you know that I have not the right to -wear any of these things, except perhaps the chemise? My father was a -gentleman so I may wear white silk, and I might have had black velvet, -but not blue. No one below a Knight of the Garter or the highest -orders may wear blue velvet. I do not know even whether I may wear the -chatelaine. I doubt if father had two hundred merks of land and of -course I cannot wear cloth of silver or gold, no one less than barons -can wear that; and as for miniver, I do not even know if barons may -wear it: I believe I should have to be a countess, and I know for -certain that diamonds and pearls are reserved for dukes and duchesses. -So I shall have to take everything off and just wear my old things and -the silk chemise”; and she gave a little sigh. - -“It is all right, dear; we thought of that. Ian says that you are -his ward now and that therefore they could not object to you wearing -anything that I may wear, and I may wear anything I like except purple, -which is reserved for the blood royal.” - -To reach such a height of unimagined grandeur almost took Aline’s -breath away. “By my troth this is a wonderful birthday,” she said, -and little Joan looked on in sympathetic wonder, secretly pleased at -being associated with any one so exalted. But her cup was filled to -overflowing when she found that Ian had provided her with a costume of -silk and fine red camlet trimmed with black velvet, besides a small -gold chain, which things he said she was entitled to wear as a lady in -waiting in his household. - -Shiona was giving a few last attentions to Aline’s hair and adding -the finishing touch, a blue velvet fillet decorated with five large -crystals and three pearls;--“What wonderful hair you have, dear!” she -said. - -Aline had always refrained from any allusion to her hair and even -turned the subject aside; but it had grown so phenomenally that she was -feeling happier about it and she cried gaily;--“Oh, that’s nothing,” -and darted away to Ian’s room, where she happened to find him. - -Aline’s beauty was proverbial, but she looked more dazzling than ever. -Ian caught her in his arms and kissed her. “You are the loveliest thing -on earth,” he said. - -“Nonsense,” answered Aline, “but I want to show Shiona the hair that -was cut off.” - -Ian took it from its hiding place, handling it lovingly and gave it -her. “Come back,” he said, “I have something else for you.” - -She took the hair and with innocent joy showed it to Shiona, who was -lost in astonishment. She then returned with it to Ian. - -He carefully put it away and then said; “Shiona has dressed you, but I -want to do the very last bit myself.” He then opened his hand and in it -lay a light chain with a subtly designed pendant of which the dominant -feature was a brilliant mass of red, one gigantic ruby, which Ian had -taken from the pommel of his sword. - -He clasped it round her neck and it just fell on the white silk. “One -touch of red in the blue and white,” he said, “but after all, it’s not -as fine a red as your lips, heartsease,” and he kissed them. - -The stone was obviously of immense value and Aline tiptoed hesitatingly -backward till she came to the wall. There on tiptoe she stood, with the -palms of her hands flat against the wall and her chin slightly lifted -till the back of her head also touched. - -She was a little dazed. At first the beautiful things had been a sheer -joy. Even the momentary cloud of the “sumptuary laws” had been swiftly -dispelled; but now the thought suddenly overcame her;--“How could Ian -afford it?” She noticed the plain simplicity of his own attire and her -quick intuition told her the truth. - -“Ian, Ian,” she cried, “you should not give me all these things. What -have you done?--How did you do it?--You have parted with something you -should not.” - -She did not move and looked very tall in the becoming costume, standing -with her heels raised high from the ground. - -Suddenly Ian realised that she would soon be a child no longer, and -then he would lose her. It came like a knife. He had not admitted -even to himself how much she was to him; but his love for her had -gradually absorbed his whole being. It was the greatest shock he had -ever experienced in his life. He stepped forward and picked her up in -his strong arms and kissed her passionately. “It was my sword, heart -of mine,” he said, “but there is nothing in the world that I would not -wish you to have.” - -Aline endeavoured to protest, but he laughingly put his hand over her -mouth and led her down-stairs. - -There was a large concourse of guests and the dinner was quite a -sumptuous ceremony, with a great boar’s head brought in with much -solemnity. Ian and his mother sat in the middle of the high table and -Aline had the seat of honour on his right. - -When dinner was over they strolled in the pleasaunce and afterwards -came in and played games such as hot cockles, and hunt the slipper, -in which every one, both old and young, took part. Then followed the -dancing. If the guests had been charmed before by Aline’s beauty, now -they were enthralled. Aline and the Duke led off with a stately pavan -and all watched with rapt interest the slow dreamy movements, that -displayed to perfection the exquisite loveliness of the child’s form. -Ian had learned dancing in Italy and France and was a consummate -exponent of the art, so that the two made a picture the like of which -had never been seen in broad Scotland. After the pavan they danced the -cinque paces, a new dance not long introduced from Italy, which in turn -was succeeded by the lively coranto, that gave a new opportunity for -Aline to reveal her light and agile grace, vying in its airy swiftness -with the beauty of the more studied movements of the slower dance. -Ian’s costume was of a blue somewhat deeper in tone than Aline’s, with -white hose and other touches of white as in hers; and the result made a -pleasing colour effect as they whirled together in the dance. - -But it was not only by her appearance, but by her subtle charm of -manner that the child fascinated every one present. They had heard the -main facts of her sad story and each and all did their utmost to give -her pleasure. At the close of the evening they held a mock coronation -ceremony, in which Aline was crowned with a plain gold circlet and -then, while seated on the throne, every guest was presented to the -Queen of the evening and they all kneeled and kissed her hand,--barons, -earls, countesses and every one present. - -Aline could not help a smile when the Earl of Hawick, who was present, -kneeled before her. This was the man that only a few months ago she had -been nervous to see and now he was humbly kneeling and kissing her hand. - -It had been a supremely happy day for Aline, and her only regret was -that Audry had not been able to share it. Even this was modified by -a curious coincidence, after the guests had gone. They had all left -early, as most of them had ridden from long distances and even those -who were putting up in Stirling had some way to go. - -After the last guest had departed, and while the family were seated -round the hearth, the castle bell rang and they heard the drawbridge -being lowered. Their own serving man appeared shortly afterward. “My -lord, a man named Walter Margrove, who hath a boy with him, hath -arrived and saith that he wisheth to see you on a matter of private -concern.” - -“Shew him up,” said Ian. - -Walter Margrove came in somewhat hesitatingly, accompanied by a still -more nervous lad. Aline in her white and blue costume rushed forward to -greet them; whereat Walter was quite taken aback and Wilfred, for it -was he, nearly turned tail and fled. - -Ian advanced and shook their hands and presented them to the Duchess -and the Lady Shiona. “If you had arrived a few minutes ago,” he said, -“you should have been presented to the Queen’s Grace. Get on your -throne again, Your Highness,” he said to Aline, and then with much -laughter they made Walter and Wilfred kneel and kiss her hand. - -Walter had recently been in Holwick and had decided that he might vary -his programme by a tour in Scotland, and make it an opportunity of -seeing Ian and Aline and little Joan, and of taking them the news from -Upper Teesdale, together with a letter from Audry. The venture had -proved a great success and Walter was in an unusually contented frame -of mind, even for him. - -“Sit down, man,” said Ian, “and tell us everything about Holwick. We -should much like to know all that befell after we escaped.” - -“Oh, but tarry a little, Ian,” said Aline; “there is something that -must be done first. You tell Walter what we have been doing, while I -talk awhile with Wilfred. Wilfred, come hither,” she continued, leading -the way to one of the double seated windows. - -“I am so glad to see you again, Wilfred,” she said, when they had sat -down, “and you are looking well.” - -“Yes, Mistress Aline, and I am glad to see you, and, oh, Mistress, -you are looking bonnie in those brave things,” he added in a burst of -boyish admiration, and then subsided overcome by shyness for having -said too much. - -“Wilfred,” she said, “you recall the last time that we met and what we -spake about?” - -“I do, indeed, and I shall not forget your sympathy.” - -“Do you remember my saying that I thought the spirit of light must in -its own time triumph over the spirit of darkness? I did not know at the -time what moved me to say it. I only meant it in a general way, and yet -I had a strange presentiment that it had some special meaning for you.” - -“What do you mean?” he asked. - -“Wilfred, what was the sad news that you heard at Kirkoswald? Tell me.” - -“They told us that little Joan had gone to Durham and died there.” - -“Yes, but did you hear it from any one who really knew Joan?” - -“No, Mistress, it was from a man who had been over to Holwick.” - -“Then how do you know it was true?” - -“Oh, Mistress Aline, Mistress Aline,” said the boy, “do you think it -might be untrue?” - -“I know it was untrue,” she said gently. - -For the moment the boy was too overcome to speak. His heart beat -violently, his eyes grew round and large. “Oh, tell me, tell me,” he -besought. - -“I promised that I would bring you back the things you gave to Joan. -I cannot do that yet; so I am going to bring you Joan herself. She is -here in this place.” - -“Here in this place!” he repeated as Aline rose and went to fetch the -little girl. - -She was back in a minute or two and the boy was still seated in the -same attitude, dumbfounded. - -“Here she is, Wilfred,” she said, leading Joan forward by the hand. - -The boy looked from one to the other too bewildered to know what to do. -Oh, how lovely Joan looked in her red costume guarded with black velvet -and the white linen chemise showing below her throat and beneath the -velvet hem. But he was too bashful to advance. - -Joan, however, was equal to the occasion. “Well, Wilfred, are you not -going to speak to me?” and she stepped forward and threw her arms round -his neck. - -Aline withdrew and left the two children in the window seat, whence -they emerged a few minutes afterwards and timidly drew near the group -round the fire. - -“Now tell us all about Holwick, Walter,” said Aline, making a place for -the two children. - -“Yes,” said Ian, “why were they so slow in pursuit?” - -“Mistress Mowbray would not let them have the horses from the Hall -and the folk broke the girths and bridles of their own horses, and -finally they had to get fresh horses in Middleton. The excitement was -tremendous; but the strangest thing to the most part of us was the -behaviour of Mistress Mowbray. She seemed to be greatly concerned and -wrung her hands and said, ‘By my Lady, I trust the child hath escaped,’ -and, later in the day, Elspeth told me that she met Thomas in the -lower quadrangle and he, knowing the hatred that Mistress Mowbray had -toward you, must needs cry unto her. ‘Methinks those fresh horses -from Middleton will soon bring the jade back,’ and she grew purple in -the face and said to him that, if they did, she would see whether it -were too late to lodge him in gaol because of the corn he had taken -along with Andrew. I saw Thomas when I was there last. He is an ill -creature, and he much misliked it when it was clear that Mistress Aline -was safely away. Yet is he but a white livered knave. Father Ambrose -rouseth my ire more than he.” - -“But you spake of Mistress Mowbray,” said Ian. - -“Yes, the first thing that she did was to send over to Appleby that -very night for Mistress Audry, who came the next morning. Elspeth said -that the proud woman wept on her neck, so that it were pity to see. I -would not have been in the place of Father Martin or Father Austin if -they had fallen into her power. For days she made the household tremble -under the weight of her authority. - -“The next day Master Richard came back looking like a broken man. He -said he had tried everything but could do nothing. As the time passed -on, and it gradually became clear that the pursuit had failed, he -recovered himself. - -“Luckily for Mistress Audry no one thought of questioning her as she -had been away so long; but every one was marvelling who it could -possibly have been that had dropped on a sudden from heaven. - -“Then news began to leak through. First they heard that two of the -pursuers had been buried at Haltwhistle. Then came the news of the -night that you spent at Brampton. Wilfred Ackroyd was found and stuck -to his tale that you had gone to Carlisle, but they found nothing -there.” - -“Oh, Wilfred!” said Aline. - -“I cannot help it,” he said, “I did laugh when I saw them galloping off -the wrong way.” - -“Timothy held his peace,” continued Walter, “and no one seemed to -connect the drowned prisoner in the Eden with Mistress Aline. Indeed I -doubt if the tale of your drowning ever reached Holwick, your Grace. -The priests went south and Master Mowbray failed to track them, at any -rate at first. I believe he did eventually get into communication, but -they refused to say anything. - -“It seemed pretty clear that Mistress Aline had escaped but who was her -saviour has remained to this day an insoluble mystery.” - -“Then they guessed nothing from your letter, Ian?” said Aline. - -“No,” said Walter. “When I was there your note, that you sent in a -round about way through Master Eustace Cleveland, had just arrived. -They were overjoyed to hear of the child’s safety and after much -discussion came to the conclusion that Cleveland himself had something -to do with it in spite of his denial. ‘Marry,’ said Mistress Mowbray, -‘I saw the way he was taken with the child.’ ‘So was every one except -yourself, woman,’ said Master Richard, ‘that proves nothing.’ Mistress -Mowbray mumbled something about not taking up with every new face, like -some people, and Master Richard did not press the point.” - -“Who told you that?” asked Aline. - -“Mistress Audry, and she says that since the first few days, when her -anger had passed, her mother has been much gentler than was her wont -to every one. She has had your little garden carefully wrought over. -‘Mistress Aline might come back,’ she says. She is much changed. - -“Master Richard believes that Mistress Aline is somewhere in hiding in -Teesdale, but he has forbidden enquiry to be made, as he thinks, under -the circumstances, it is safer, in the event of any attempt on the part -of the authorities to find her, that they can all honestly say they -know nothing. I believe that he personally thinks Master Gower knows -more than Master Cleveland.” - -“Now let me read Audry’s letter,” said Aline. This was a matter of some -difficulty, as Audry was barely able to write; but the evident trouble, -that the letter had been, made it a dearer token of affection. Aline -made it out as follows: - - “To my dearest and most beloved cousin Aline Gillespie, - - “Thou canst not think how fain I was to get thy dear letter. - Walter will tell thee the most part of the news, but I must with - mine own hand tell thee how overjoyed I was to know of a surety - of thy safety. When Mother sent for me and I came home I was - heartbroken. I used to sleep in thy bed and kiss the things that - thou hadst worn and cry myself to sleep. But gradually it seemed - clear that thou hadst escaped and I offered up many prayers of - thankfulness as shall I again and again this night. - - “I have one item of good news. Dost remember the linen that - Mother found in our room. It was then lying with the wrappings - and cord with which it came. She took them all down and must - herself have put the wrappings on that little dark shelf near her - linen chest. I recognised them one day by the colour of the cord, - and I took them down, and lo, within, there was the little book. - I have put it in its own secret place in the lock in the library. - I am sure this will glad thine heart. Someday I trust thou wilt - be able to read the rest to me. Thou wilt indeed be the grand - lady now;--to think of thee living in a great castle with a real - Duke! May God be with thee. - - “From AUDRY MOWBRAY.” - -After Aline had read the letter they told Walter the true state of -affairs and how he had happened to come on the only festal day that -they had had. - -It was arranged that Walter and Wilfred should put up for the night. -There certainly was ample room for the horses in the empty stables. -The Duchess was tired and went to bed early and was soon followed by -Shiona, so that Ian and Aline were left by themselves. - -They sat quietly for a long time, Ian gazing silently at Aline, idly -sketching her shifting poses on the easel that happened to be standing -near; but he was not conscious of what he was doing; his thoughts -were far away as they wandered over the strange circumstances of his -career. Aline was more like her mother than ever, although still -more surpassingly beautiful. He was quite sure about it now. It was -undoubtedly Aline’s mother that he had loved with that wild boy-love -when he was but thirteen, and now Aline would soon be a woman herself! -“Who was there,” he wondered, “who would be worthy of such a treasure? -In any case it could not be very long now before some one claimed her. -His own mother was married at fifteen, so was the Lady Jane Grey, whom -Aline in some ways resembled.” He sighed sadly. - -“Are you not happy, Ian? I am so happy to-night,” said Aline, and came -across and kissed him and then nestled at his feet after her favourite -manner. - -“Not altogether,” he said. - -“Tell me what it is.” - -“Not to-night, heartsease,” he answered, bending down and kissing the -fragrant hair. “Some day, perhaps, I will.” - -For a time the room was very still. Suddenly a thought occurred to Ian. -“I have just remembered something,” he said; “I will get it.” - -The rush of events had crowded the little pouch and its contents out of -his mind, but his present mood reminded him of it. - -He brought the amulet from its hiding place. Aline was still seated -on the floor. He sat down on the floor also, a little behind her, and -lifted one of the lovely hands. “I have something else that I meant to -give you before,” he said, holding up the bracelet. - -The strange blue stones shone in the firelight as if they themselves -were on fire. “‘Weal where I come as a gift of love,’” he read. “Pray -God it may be so, heart of mine.” - -Aline leaned back and lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him -as he told the story. - -“There are no scars on the beautiful hands now,” he said softly. - -She half drew the hand away and then stopped and it lay passively in -his hold as he lovingly fastened the bracelet round the perfect wrist. - -She did not thank him; she did not speak; she only lay there quietly -looking into his eyes. - -A log slipped from the fire; it did not make much noise, but the sound -echoed through the deserted rooms. How absolutely alone together they -were! - -Somehow the bracelet seemed to have a special significance: perhaps she -might be held after all. A feeling of peace, almost of happiness, stole -over him. - -“You are good to me,” she said at last. “Yes, I am happy.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE LAST ADVENTURE - - -In order that Aline should not discover her presence, little Joan had -been put to sleep the first night in an upper chamber, in a wing of -the great castle remote from that occupied by the family. To avoid -extra trouble on the day of the birthday, she returned there the second -night, although in future she was to have a small ante-room connecting -with the girls’ chamber. In the rooms below her were the servants who -had been hired for the occasion. She half undressed and, as she sat -combing her hair, she looked out at the dark night. Below, she heard -the rushing of the burn, and, dimly, under the starry sky she could see -the great hills to the north. There was a close feeling in the air, as -though there might be thunder or heavy rain. It was a little oppressive -but her heart was so full of gladness that she refused to allow it to -influence her. - -How strangely things had come about. She remembered the horrible -prophecy of “Moll o’ the graves” about her going away that seemed -to mean death. It was curious how it had been fulfilled and yet -not fulfilled. Could the old hag really in some way see into the -future, and what did the prophecy mean about her beautiful little -mistress,--“she shall follow not long after; marry, I see the fire -about her”? They had indeed come near to burning her, but she had -escaped the flames. “Well, all has turned out for the best so far. -Mistress Aline said that the light would overcome the dark. I believe -she is stronger than old Moll, after all,” she thought. - -She had finished combing her hair, and after kneeling before her little -crucifix was soon in bed and asleep. - -Aline meanwhile, however, lay awake; the heavy storm-feeling in the air -would not allow her to rest. She was excited also from the events of -the day. After an hour or two she got up and looked out. The stars had -all gone and the thick clouds made the night impenetrably black. Shiona -was sound asleep. She crept back again to bed and tossed and tossed, -but it was of no avail. Another hour passed. She thought she would get -up and feel for the tinder box and light the lamp. Where was it? Could -she find it in the dark? - -As she lay there wondering, it seemed to get a little lighter. Yes, -it was certainly getting lighter, surely it could not be morning yet. -She lay for a few minutes, things in the room were rapidly becoming -visible, but that was surely not daylight; no, it was not daylight. She -jumped up and looked out. “Gramercy, the castle is on fire.” She looked -again; it was the wing where Joan slept. She crossed the room and woke -Shiona. “Quick,” she said, “the castle is on fire. Wake them all--tell -Ian--Joan will be burnt--I must go.” - -She dashed down the stairs, as she was, without staying to put anything -on, and ran across the court yard. There she met the terrified servants -rushing from the building. - -“Where is Joan, have you seen her?” she asked. - -“No, Mistress,” they said, “she must still be in her room.” - -Aline ran to the foot of the stairs. - -“You must not go up,” they screamed, “you must not go up, the stairs -will fall.” - -It was an unfortunate fact that at some time, when alterations were -being made, a wooden stairway had been substituted for the original -stone one, which now existed only in a ruinous condition. - -But Aline ran on without heeding the warnings and started to climb the -stairs. The fire had broken out on the second floor and the flames were -raging through to the staircase. Could she get past? She caught up -her nightrobe in a tight bundle on her breast to try to keep it from -the fire and made a rush. The flames scorched her skin and she burned -her bare feet on the blazing boards. But she managed to get past. -One sleeve even caught alight, but she was able after she had passed -through to crush it out with her other hand. - -“Joan, Joan,” she shouted, as she made her way into Joan’s room. Joan -was still asleep, partly stupified by the smoke. Aline roused her and -they rushed back to the stairs, but in the interval the whole stairway -had become a bellowing furnace and the flames roared up it, so that -they could not look down. - -Joan gave a little pitiful cry. “We are lost, oh, Mistress Aline, we -are lost.” - -“No, not yet, Joan, keep up a stout heart; let us try if there be not -another way.” - -They ran through two rooms in the opposite direction to the stair and -came to a door. But it was locked. They tried in vain to open it. They -beat upon it, but it was beyond their strength to break, so they went -back to Joan’s room. - -“Can you climb, Joan?” asked Aline. - -“No.” - -“Then I must try and let you down.” She seized the bedclothes as she -spoke and knotted them together. Alas, they could not possibly reach. -She remembered how Ian had saved Wilfred by the rope under the bed and -feverishly threw off the mattrass. The bed had wooden laths! - -She looked out of the window and saw that a crowd had gathered below. -How far down would the bedclothes extend? She made trial and shouted -to the crowd that some one should try and find a tall ladder, while -others, in case of failure, should bring a blanket and make a soft pile -of hay. The crowd scattered and in a few moments there was a great heap -of hay and some ten persons holding a blanket stretched above it. Yet, -look as they would, no ladder was to be found except a little short -thing that was no use. Possibly the other ladder was in the burning -building, possibly it had been mislaid in the festal preparations. - -Aline’s lips were parched and her tongue clave to the roof of her -mouth; for the moment she nearly succumbed to her fear. So it was -Joan’s life or hers? “Why cannot Joan climb?” she thought. Surely she -could manage to get down as far as that? She looked at the child; but -she was stiff with terror and absolutely helpless. - -Somehow Aline felt it was not the same thing as when she had swum the -river, then she had a chance of her life; indeed, if she had had no -chance there was not the slightest use in trying to swim, as it could -not have helped Ian. Here there was no chance; could she think of no -other way? - -The flames roared nearer, she began to find it hard to breathe. -“Perhaps there is a way,” she said, “but who can think in a case like -this?” - -Joan had now become unconscious. Aline thought no more; the sacrifice -was made; she tied one end round Joan and put a pillow on the sill to -prevent chafing. She dragged the bed to the window and took a turn with -the extemporised rope round one of the knobs to prevent it going too -fast. She lifted the child and gently lowered her toward the ground. -For a moment she hesitated again. “Could she climb down and untie -Joan?” No, the whole thing might break. - -The drop below Joan was about fifteen feet. “Hold tight,” she shouted, -and those below braced themselves together and gripped the blanket -firmly and the child fell into it. She was so light that the hay below -was not necessary. - -The fire had now reached half across the room itself and was breaking -through the floor boards in little tongues of flame, when the choking -smoke curled upward. - -The end had come then; there was no hope. She turned to go and see if -by any chance the locked door could be made to yield. It was vain, as -indeed she knew, and the flame and smoke in that room was worse than -her own. She ran back and looked out of the window. She thought she saw -Ian with a white drawn face looking upward, but he disappeared. - -Once again in the frenzy of despair she rushed to the other room and -flung herself against the door; but had to stagger back to Joan’s room -before she was completely overcome. The flames again caught her night -robe and she tore it from her as she struggled to the window where she -might still breathe. The heat was awful; oh, the pain of it! “But I -must die bravely,” she said, “as father would have me do.” - -All that she had ever done seemed to rise before her. She saw her -mother as in the portrait. She saw her father and Audry, and last she -saw Ian. He seemed to be weeping over her! Was she already dead? No, -and she prayed;--“Lord Jesus, Thou hast taught me to come unto Thee and -I beg of Thee to forgive me all that I have done wrong in my life. Take -me in Thy arms and if it please Thee, end this terrible pain. Be with -Ian and comfort him, Lord, when I am gone. Watch over little Joan and -make her happier than I have been. Oh, Lord, the pain, the pain!” The -smoke thickened, she gave one little gasp and spoke no more. - -Aline was right; it was Ian that she had seen below. Shiona had first -roused her mother and then Ian. He had gone to the stairway just -in time to see it give way and come down with a crash. He had then -endeavoured to get round the other way, but the smoke and flame was -impossible. Once more he had come down and obtained some wet cloths to -wrap over his face and make one more attempt. It was on this occasion -that he had glanced up and seen Aline at the window. - -She looked just as he had seen her in his visions with the flame and -smoke rushing round her. It was this then that he had foreseen. It was -this that the old woman had foretold. A sword went through his heart, -followed by a dull crushing pain that seemed to paralyse his will. -He ran as in a dream. Again he reached the range of upper rooms. The -flames belched forth at him and the smoke took weird fantastic shapes. -It stretched out long skinny arms as though to hold him back and there -all round him were evil mocking faces spitting out at him with tongues -of flame. - -Voices surged through the air. “This is the end, you shall not reach -her, she shall die, but you shall live--live.” The voices ended in a -peal of laughter. What was life to him without Aline. He was going mad. -He knew it. Mad! Mad! That was the fiendish scheme of the powers of -darkness. He would live and yet never see anything all his life but the -dead child. Horrible! - -He had come to the worst part; he wrapped one of the wet cloths about -his mouth and nose and over his hair and plunged into the smoke and -flame. It roared, it stung, it blinded him, he nearly screamed, but he -staggered through and came to the great oak door. He tried, like Aline, -to open it, but it would not yield. He hurled his weight against it; -it was of no avail. Again and again he tried and then stood back to -look for some weapon. A heavy oak table all ablaze stood on one side of -the room; he dashed at it, and heaved it over, seizing one of the legs -and wrenching at it with all his might. He strove and pulled and then -kicked it with his foot. It came away with a loud crash. - -It was partly burned and the red hot surface bit into his flesh. He did -not care but raised it above his head and turned to the door. Tortured -by the agony of heat as he was, there, to his excited imagination, -appeared the horrible form of “Moll o’ the graves,” leering at him and -barring the way. She seemed to push him back with her bony claw-like -hand. He swung the heavy oak leg through the air like a maniac and -shrieked,--“All the devils in Hell shall not hold me back.” He frothed -at the mouth and battered in her skull. She grinned at him as the blood -trickled through her teeth and pointed to the monstrous shapes that -seemed to gather out of the smoke. He thrust her aside with his foot, -his heart ceased to beat, but he thundered on the door. Once. Twice. -Thrice. And the fourth time it gave way, while the door flew open and -he fell heavily forward. - -He scrambled to his feet and hurried on. There, by the window, lay the -beautiful little body. As his brain reeled he saw the martyr, George -Wishart, standing over it in the fire, holding the evil spirits at -bay. Ian’s eyes seemed to start from his head. He pressed his hands -over them as he advanced and looked again. The flames were actually -touching her. Ah, she was dead, but how unutterably beautiful! Why for -the second time in his life must death snatch out of it the one supreme -treasure? Legions of thoughts swirled through his mind. He would paint -her like that. Why was he not a sculptor? He would immortalise her form -in marble. What transcendent loveliness! - -As he stooped quickly, suddenly his brain cleared, and, gathering up -her hair, he wrapped it in one of the wet cloths and drew it in a -single thickness over her face. With another he covered what he could -of the exquisite white form and picked it up and ran. - -This time the fiends seemed unable to reach him, but before he arrived -at the third room there was a reverberating roar, part of the floor -had given way and a great blank ten or twelve feet wide yawned before -him. - -Once more the voices shouted;--“You are ours--ours--and she is dead.” -Yet he heeded them not, but turned back a little way, then ran with all -his might and leaped and cleared the chasm. - -On he went, down the stairs, the madness was on him again. “Keep -back, keep back,” he shouted as he tore through the crowd. He looked -so terrible, his face distorted with pain, as he ran past that they -scattered in all directions. Shiona, at first, alone dared to follow -him. He took Aline to one of the lower rooms in the other part of the -castle. “Oil,” he cried, “send some one for oil and linen.” - -Little Joan was coming timidly behind and ran for the things. Ian bent -over Aline; she did not breathe. He filled his lungs with fresh air and -putting his face down to hers breathed into her and drew the air forth. -It was the intuition of affection and it saved her life. After a few -moments she began to breathe again. Joan had then returned with the oil. - -It was the smoke and gases of the fire that had suffocated her, and -except on the soles of the little feet there were nowhere any serious -burns. But there were great red patches here and there all over her, -and the arm where the night dress had first caught fire was slightly -blistered. He wrapped her entirely in oiled linen, and laid her gently -on a mattrass that had been brought down. - -All the time he never spoke a word and Shiona was frightened at his -strange manner. Immediately he had finished he fell senseless to the -ground. They picked him up and laid him on the mattrass. He was badly -burned in several places, particularly the palms of his hands; he had -also, as they afterwards discovered, strained himself severely in the -leap with the child in his arms. For a time he lay still and then began -to rave in wild delirium. - -They did what they could for him, while Walter took his best horse and -galloped to Stirling for a physician. Meanwhile the neighbours from far -and near were fighting the fire. There were three well-shafts, carried -up to the roof in the walls of the castle; and chains of men and women -passed the buckets from hand to hand. The same was done from the burn -down below. They did not attempt to do more than keep the fire from -spreading beyond the blazing wing. But a new ally came to their aid -that helped them not a little. The long threatened storm burst upon -them with thunder and lightning, but accompanied by a torrential deluge -of rain; and before morning the fire was completely under control. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -A TALE OF A TUB - - -It was a beautiful late autumn day and the sun was shining on the -moat and the old walls of Holwick. Some few weeks previously news -had arrived in that remote corner of the death of Queen Mary and the -accession of Elizabeth, and Audry was sitting as she often did, in the -bay window of Mistress Mowbray’s bower, looking down toward Middleton, -when four riders and a pack horse were seen approaching the gates. - -Audry had noticed their coming and, as they drew nearer, she recognised -two of them and ran eagerly out to meet them. “Oh, how I have hoped for -you to come,” she said, “and somehow I knew it would not be long before -you were here.” - -Ian dismounted and helped his sister and Aline to alight, while the -serving man took the horses. Aline was in perfect health, but Ian was -still worn and thin. She had not been long in recovering; but he had -hovered between life and death for some time. - -“This is the Lady Shiona, Ian’s sister,” said Aline. Audry came forward -a little shyly, but Shiona said, “Oh, I have heard so much about you,” -and kissed her warmly. - -Audry then flung her arms round Aline as though she would never let her -go. - -“You must not leave Ian in the cold,” said Aline. - -“No, indeed, I should think not,” exclaimed Audry; “why, if it were -not for him you would not be here at all,” and she held up her face to -be kissed. - -“She is getting too big to be kissed, is she not?” said Ian. - -“Not at all,” said Aline, “you kiss me.” - -“That is a different matter,” said Ian, laughing, as he kissed Audry, -“you are my ward, you see.” - -Although Master Richard and his wife were by no means pleased at the -political change, they were delighted that it had brought their young -visitor, and Mistress Eleanor greeted her with an unusual show of -affection. She had been long enough falling under Aline’s spell, but -the conquest was complete and resulted in the re-development of a side -of her nature that had practically lain dormant since, a charming girl -of sixteen, Master Richard had met her in York and against all the -wishes of his parents had insisted on marrying her. She became more -human and more anxious to please, and gradually won the esteem and even -love of her servitors and the people of Holwick. - -Aline introduced her escort, and while they were being shown to their -rooms, she went and found Elspeth. - -Elspeth wept tears of joy over her and said; “Now, hinnie, I shall -be able to die happy. I thought the sunlight had gone out of my life -forever.” - -They had a long talk and in the afternoon she went down with Elspeth -to the Arnsides. Janet seized a stool and dusted it for the young -mistress; and John, who was just outside the house, came in. - -“O John,” Aline said, “I can never repay you or thank you enough, it is -no use my trying to put my thanks into words.” - -“What I did was nothing,” he said. - -“But if you had not done it, the Duke of Ochil would never have come -and I should have been lost.” - -“No one who knew you, Mistress Aline, could have done less.” - -The time seemed all too short to the Arnsides, when Aline turned to go. -“I shall ask Cousin Richard to let us stay here for at least a month,” -she said, “even if I do not come back here to live. I am going to teach -you to read, John, and I have brought you this,” and she produced a -beautifully bound copy of the Scriptures, which she had bought for him -with all the money she had left. - -John was confused with gratitude, and Aline fled, leaving him an -opportunity to recover by himself. - -She had had a long talk with Ian in which they had decided that it was -right that Master Mowbray should hear the whole story and be told about -the secret room, as after all it belonged to him. - -So that night she secured the little book and took it up to her old -room with Audry. - -As they were undressing, Aline took off the ruby pendant, which she was -wearing concealed beneath her simple costume. - -“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Audry, “diamonds and pearls and--what a -marvellous ruby! But Aline, you have no right to wear this.” - -“I feel a little doubtful, but Ian says it is all right, as at present -I am in the position of his ward and in any case I am Scots and not -English.” - -“But if you are father’s ward then you will count as English.” - -“Anyway, I shall not wear it in public; so it does not matter.” - -“Your luck has come at last, Aline; just fancy your wearing diamonds -and pearls like a duke’s daughter. But you deserve to be lucky after -all you have been through. I would not go through what you have been -through, for all the luck in the world, you beautiful lovely thing.” - -Audry had by this time begun combing Aline’s hair. “Why, Aline,” she -said, “your hair is not quite so long as it was!” - -“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Aline, and she told her all about -the cutting off. “But it has very nearly grown again, it has been -extraordinarily quick.” - -“Yes, you are beautiful,” Audry went on, “look at that hair, look at -that neck, look at those perfect ears.” - -“Do not be silly, Audry!” - -“Yes,” said Audry, not heeding, “and the luck is not over yet. You will -be married very soon.” - -Aline blushed. “Be quiet, Audry.” - -“But you are far too beautiful and charming and good to be left long -unmarried,” and Audry embraced her impulsively. - -“Come, let us get into bed and sit and study the book.” - -So Aline read to the end and discovered that it explained how to open -the great iron chest. - -The next day they managed to leave Shiona with Mistress Mowbray, and -Aline, Audry and Ian took Master Mowbray into the library. - -They sat in the great window seat and Aline read out of the little -book and told the story of their adventures, which was frequently -supplemented by Audry and Ian. Richard Mowbray was again entranced and -he thought Aline’s new tale even more wonderful than Malory. - -When she had finished they all went down to the secret room and Master -Richard asked hundreds of questions about all their experiences. They -examined everything and explored the secret passage to the cave and -back. - -“But there is still one thing that we have to do,” said Aline, “and -that is to open the great iron chest and see what is inside. I have -only just discovered how it is done and there is a good deal that -requires doing first. But listen to this: Exactly under the middle of -the great oriel window of the library, the book says,--that a foot -and a half below the water in the moat is a chain made of links of -greenheart wood, so as to withstand the wet; and at the end of that is -a large round ball also of greenheart, and embedded in it with pitch -is the great key of the iron chest. I have been thinking how to get it -and, if the chain has not rotted and we do not have to dredge for the -ball, I think I might go a-sailing for it in a tub, which would be fun. -We might see to that this afternoon and then open the chest to-morrow.” - -“You will probably upset,” said Audry, “but, as you can swim like a -fish, that will not matter; but I shall laugh to see you tumble in.” - -“You bad girl,” said Aline, and chased her round the room. “Well, I am -going to try anyway.” - -After dinner Master Richard went and ordered two of the men to bring -a great tub from the laundry, while Aline went upstairs and changed -her things, putting on a pair of boy’s trunks. She then threw a cloak -about her and came down. - -The tub was rolled round till it was opposite the window and then Aline -insisted that the serving men should go away. A board, hastily thinned -down at one end, made a sort of rude paddle and, with shrieks of -derision from Audry, the others held the tub and Aline cautiously got -in and squatted tailorwise on the bottom. They all laughed so much that -they nearly upset the tub at the outset. - -Aline then started on her perilous voyage, but, the tub being circular, -every time she took a stroke with the paddle, it simply spun round and -round. - -Those on the bank held their sides with laughter, but the more they -laughed the more confused Aline became. She tried taking a stroke first -one way and then the other. This was not quite so bad, but the tub -revolved backwards and forwards like a balance wheel. - -“Try little short strokes pulling the paddle towards you,” shouted Ian, -when the laughter had a little subsided. This answered somewhat better -and the tub slowly made its way across, but with many vagaries and -strange gyrations. - -At last she reached the wall right under the great projecting corbel -of the window, and, very cautiously putting down her arm, she felt the -chain. - -“Hurrah!” she shouted, “I have it”; but she spoke too soon. As she -pulled the chain, the tub over-balanced and Aline tumbled head first -into the moat. Audry collapsed altogether at this and rolled over on to -the grass. - -Ian, however, for the moment took it seriously and was going to jump -in, but Audry seized one of his ankles to stop him and laughed still -more till the tears ran down her cheeks. “You’ll kill me, you two,” she -said, as Aline’s head appeared above the water with long green weeds -hanging in her hair. - -Aline swam to the chain and found that the ball was very heavy. She -then righted the tub. - -“Get in, get in quickly,” shouted Audry mischievously, and Aline, -without thinking, made the attempt with the result that the tub lifted -and turned over on her like an extinguisher. Audry was convulsed. - -“You little mischief,” said Ian, and picked her up and held her out -over the water at arm’s length; but she only laughed the more. - -Aline meanwhile again righted the tub and then shouted to the others to -bring an axe. Audry refused to go. She said she must wait for the end -of the performance. So Master Richard ran and called one of the men, -who brought the things required. - -While he was gone Aline, with difficulty, got the ball into the tub. -She then swam across for the axe and, taking it over, she cut the -chain, threw the axe in with the ball and, pushing the tub before her, -swam back to the other side. - -“You will be getting to know this moat,” said Audry, as Ian pulled -Aline, all dripping, up the bank. “This is your third adventure in the -moat since you came.” - -She then went up and changed her clothes and joined the others in the -solar. There she found that Father Laurence had just arrived. He was -looking worn and worried, but a smile lit up his face as Aline came in. - -The old man’s hand trembled as he laid it on her head. “You are growing -tall, my child; we shall soon see you a woman. I have just arrived with -some strange and horrible news, which I have been telling my Lord of -Ochil. You remember old ‘Moll o’ the graves,’ Aline.” - -“Yes, Father.” - -“She’s dead, my child; I saw her a few minutes ago on my way up. She -was lying at the foot of the Crags.” - -Aline shuddered. - -“We cannot leave the poor creature there,” he continued; “can you let -me have a couple of men, Master Richard, and would you mind her lying -here for the night? I will arrange for the funeral to-morrow.” - -“Certainly,” said Master Mowbray, and he arose and accompanied Father -Laurence. - -Twenty minutes later Aline and Ian were crossing the courtyard and -saw the bearers carrying the body on a hurdle into the room below the -granary. Ian at once drew Aline away in another direction, that she -should not see the horrible sight. He had caught one glimpse of the -face, and it was enough. It was the same as he had seen in his awful -vision in the fire,--the terrible grin,--the blood trickling through -the teeth. “Come away, little one, let us go elsewhere,” he said. - -After all was quiet again, Thomas Carluke walked stealthily across the -quadrangle and entered the room where the body lay. A sheet had been -placed over it, but he drew it aside. The grin on the face seemed to -mock him. “Aha!” he said, “you fooled me twice, you old wretch, but -you will never do it again. You need not laugh at me like that. I have -cleared my score with you now. Did you not tell me that you would get -rid of the child?--and they got her out of the moat. Did you not tell -me she would be burnt?--and now Queen Mary is dead and there are no -more burnings. You miserable worm, what was the good of your hate? You -were no better than Andrew, no better than Father Ambrose. Pah! You -defied me just now on the Crags, did you? Well, here you are; and I -would do it again. Oh, it was so easy,--one little push. Ha, you still -mock; no, you cannot hurt me,--no, no,” he repeated apprehensively. -“You are dead, you cannot come back. I will not believe it. The devil -has your soul. But I must go, must go.” - -He drew the sheet over the body again and went out. “Fool,” he said to -himself, “what am I afraid of? Fool, I say.” - -Meanwhile Aline was walking with Audry through the garden. - -“I am glad the horrible old thing is gone,” said Audry. “Are not you?” - -“It seems too dreadful to say so,” Aline answered, “but I cannot -pretend that I am sorry. She always seemed to me a sort of evil -influence, a spirit of discord and hate.” - -“Yes,” said Audry, slipping her arm round Aline’s waist, “just as you -are the spirit of love.” - -“Don’t be foolish, Audry; besides I do not believe that any one could -love everybody.” - -“No, but need you hate them? Come now, did you hate old Moll?” - -“I do not know; somehow she seemed too mean, too petty and spiteful to -hate. You could not fight her exactly. She was not worth fighting, so -to speak.” - -“But I always felt,” said Audry, “that behind the old woman, not in the -old woman herself, was a power of evil and hate, a great power that -could be fought.” - -“Oh, yes, quite so. I think there are things to hate. I do not believe -in sickly sentiment; but that poor wretched old woman in herself was -rather a thing to be pitied than hated, and, now that I come to think -of it, I never did meet any one really to hate.” - -“What about Thomas?” - -“That is just a case in point,” said Aline. “I despise him, pity him, -but one would lose one’s own dignity in hating such a poor thing. Now -if one could find some one really strong, really great and wicked, one -could hate them. But no one of that sort has ever come my way.” - -“Have you thought of Father Martin?” - -“I did not hate him. I was afraid of him and I did not think him -altogether a good man; but in the main he seemed to act up to his -lights. Father Austin, I might have hated, perhaps; but I do not know -enough about him. There is some one over there that I love,” she said -suddenly, as Father Laurence appeared at the other end of the garden. -“I think he is the best man I have ever seen.” - -“Better than Ian?” asked Audry. - -“I do not know, and it is impossible for me to say. Dear Ian. I used to -feel that there was something weak about him, but I think I was wrong. -The wonderful thing about him is that he is developed on every side. It -is true that we have mainly seen the softer side and also for a great -part of the time he has been ill. But I keep discovering new things in -his character. In any case he has a far more difficult position than -Father Laurence. I should think that really it would be a much easier -thing to retire from the world like a priest, than to try and make -oneself a more complete and fully developed being and remain in the -world. And after all, the world would cease to exist if we were all -priests and nuns. To live the worldly life is certainly the lowest, and -to come out of the world is higher than that; yet I am not sure that -there is not something harder and higher still; and I believe Ian has -done it; but here comes Father Laurence.” - -The children ran to him, and the three walked round the garden -together. It was a rare picture, the fine tall figure, slightly bent, -with the wonderful spiritual face, an epitome of the glory of age, and -the two exquisite children, just approaching the threshold, on the -other side of which they would soon reach the mysteries of adult life. - -After they had talked for some time Audry asked, “How do you suppose, -Father, that Moll met her death?” - -“I cannot say, my children; she may have fallen over by accident, but -Master Richard thinks that she threw herself over. You know, little -girl, how she hated you,” he said, turning to Aline, “and she must have -been bitterly chagrined that everything has gone so well with you. -Perhaps he is right, but let us speak of other things.” - -He stopped, and for a time no one said anything at all. Then, moved by -some motive that he could not explain, he went on,--“Children, I shall -soon have to bid you farewell.” - -“Oh, why?” they both said in a breath. - -“I do not know what prompts me to tell you, Mistress Aline,” he said. - -Aline started; it was the first time he had ever addressed her like -that; and the old man continued,--“I have not yet said anything to -any one else, even of the old faith; and I know, child,” he went on, -dropping into the more familiar manner, “that you are not of us; so why -I should tell you, a mere child, and a heretic,”--he lingered on the -word regretfully,--“I am unable to say. The Queen’s Grace is minded -that there shall be an act of Uniformity for this realm and that the -prayer book of 1552 shall be re-affirmed. It liketh me not and I shall -not subscribe and therefore shall lose my benefice. I had hoped to end -my days in Middleton, but it cannot be, and I must, if he be willing, -take up my abode with my nephew. It will be a sore grief to me after -all these years. - -“But my work is done and I must not repine. One thing, Aline, child, I -would say, and that is this,--thou mindest how I have ever told thee -that the light must overcome the dark, and so has it been with the -machinations of that poor evil woman. So hath it been with you; not -that it will be ever so with things temporal, but it will be so in -the world of the unseen and eternal. But farewell, my children, and I -must go. Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, in nomine Patris et Filii et -Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”[30] - - [30] May almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, the Son, - and the Holy Spirit. Amen. - -When he had gone Audry said, “How unjust it is that Father Ambrose will -remain and that Father Laurence should go.” - -“How so?” said Aline. - -“Have you not heard; Father Ambrose hath said that he will subscribe -to anything that will keep his place, and he is the very man who -persecuted you in the name of the Church?” - -“What a scoundrel!” said Aline. “I had liever see Father Laurence, the -Catholic, than Father Ambrose, the protestant, hold his own, protestant -though I be. I must see if the Duke may not be able to do something, -though he be not of this realm. Now that Queen Elizabeth’s Grace hath -come to the throne he hath many friends who are right powerful in this -land. Father Laurence is an old man, and will not be long in this life -in anywise; methinks it will not be a hard matter.” - -“I hope you will succeed,” said Audry, “and I shall do my best with -Master Richard that Father Ambrose be moved, whatever dishonest shifts -he may practice.” - -They had reached the door that led into the garden. “Come, Audry, the -afternoon is spent and it is time for supper.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -THE GREAT IRON CHEST - - -The next morning Master Mowbray went over to Newbiggin to look at the -cottage that had been occupied by “Moll o’ the graves,” as it was -his property, on the old Middleton estate which was much larger and -more important than Holwick. The cottage was in poor condition and he -decided that it should be rebuilt. It was dinner time before he came -back, so they were not able to go down to the secret room till the -afternoon. - -“Now,” said Aline, as they entered, “first the chest has to be laid on -its back.” - -This they tried to do, but it was too heavy. They pushed and pulled, -but they could not stir it. - -“Let us use some of those stout poles there, standing in the corner,” -said Ian; “then we can lever it over.” - -This they did and with some difficulty the chest was turned over. - -“I expect that is the very thing for which the poles were used,” Audry -suggested. - -“Probably,” said Aline, as she put her finger on the top right hand -rivet head and slid it an inch to the left. - -“Oh, that is how it works,” exclaimed Master Richard, greatly -interested. - -“Now you have to turn it back again.” - -“Oh, dear,” they all cried; but set to work, and again the chest stood -upright. Aline then moved the second rivet in the same way. - -“Now turn it over again,” she said. - -“This is too much, we are not galley slaves,” expostulated Ian. “You -are a tyrant, Your Highness.” - -“Well, anyway I help, my Lord,” answered Aline, with mock gravity. - -“‘Help,’ you wee kitten!” said Master Richard; “I think I do most of -this; and it is my belief,” he added, “that it is not to my interest -that the chest should be opened at all.” - -“Why not?” they all exclaimed. - -“Never mind. Come. I want to see what’s inside i’ faith.” - -Once again they heaved and tugged and turned it over. Aline then moved -the rivet. “Now turn it back again.” - -“Look here, we cannot go on that way,” said Master Richard. “There must -be thirty rivets. We shall rebel, my liege.” - -“No, you must do your duty.” - -So once more they struggled and turned it back. - -“There, you have done your part,” said Aline, and they all stood round -and laughed at each other, when they saw how hot they looked. Every one -watched Aline with great curiosity as she now slid aside the whole of -one of the iron plates of the chest and disclosed a small lock. Into -this she fitted a key and turned it with some difficulty. It was the -key on the bunch in the library, whose use Master Richard had not -known. This enabled all the central part of the front to hinge down and -disclose the large lock to which belonged the key from the moat. - -The lid was very heavy and it took two of them to open it. The contents -were covered by a black velvet cloth, and above it lay a parchment upon -which was inscribed in large letters: - - ALINE GILLESPIE - - IN ACCORDANCE WITH MY WILL, WHICH - LIETH BEHIND THE LOCK OPPOSITE THAT - WHICH CONCEALETH THE BOOK. - - JAMES MOWBRAY. - -Aline gazed in blank astonishment when she saw her own name. - -“That is your great-grandmother’s name,” said Master Richard, “but it -is all right, the chest is yours all the same, as you are the sole -heiress of that line. But if you do not mind I should like to see the -will, even before you lift the velvet cloth.” - -Aline ran upstairs, her heart beating with wild excitement, and was -followed by Audry. The lock moved exactly as the other one had done and -there lay the lost will. - -“How stupid of us not to find it before,” said Audry, “but, oh, I am so -glad that something really good has come to you at last.” - -They ran down again. - -“Here it is,” said Audry, who was holding the will. - -“Let his Grace read it,” said Master Richard, “as he is a disinterested -party.” - -It was a long will, but the tenour of it was,--that the old Mowbray -estates at Middleton went to James Mowbray’s son, but the little -Holwick property, with half the contents of the library, was left to -his daughter, Aline, and to her heirs after her forever. - -The will concluded,--“And that the said Aline Gillespie and my -son-in-law Angus Gillespie may be able to keep up the Holwick estate -in a manner that is befitting, I also bequeath for the use of the said -Aline and Angus and their heirs after them the great iron chest and its -contents, the which chest, with the name of Aline Gillespie inside, -is now within the secret room; and the means for the discovery of all -these things are in the little book in the library, concealed in the -lock opposite to this. The parchment with holes, that is hidden in the -cover of the aforesaid book, is to be placed over each page in turn and -the letters that appear through the holes may then be read as words.” - -“Well, little one, I always suspected that the Holwick property might -be yours; but James Mowbray died suddenly and the will was never -found,” said Master Richard. - -He saw clouds of anxiety gathering on the child’s face, so he went -on,--“You must not think about it now; let us look at the chest.” - -Aline lifted the velvet and on the top was a tray. It was filled with -orphreys and other embroideries of the celebrated _opus anglicum_ -and was of immense value. So perfectly had the chest fitted that the -colours were all as marvellous as the day they were done. - -Below this was another tray, which contained exquisitely carved ivories -and wonderful enamel work, several beautifully bound illuminated -manuscripts of the highest possible excellence, many of the covers -being elaborately garnished with precious stones, and two jewelled -swords, one of Spanish make and one from Ferrara that almost equalled -Ian’s own. - -Beneath this tray again was a layer of soft leather bags in ten rows of -five each, every one of which contained five hundred gold pieces. - -This brought them about one-third of the way down the chest. The -remainder was in three portions. In the middle was a large oak box, -that exactly fitted from front to back, and left about a fifth of the -chest on each side. These fifths were filled with solid gold and silver -bars, packed like bricks to fill every crevice. Their total value was -four or five times that of the gold pieces in the bags. - -Richard Mowbray and Ian lifted out the oak box and it was found to -contain a collection composed of the choicest examples of art in metal -work that any of them had ever seen in their lives. There were large -mazers and other cups, a wonderful nef, and skilfully wrought platters. -There were daggers and hunting horns and belts. There were chatelaines -and embracelets and diadems. Then in a smaller receptacle were lesser -things, such as rings, pendants, necklaces, chains, clasps and buckles. -But finely jewelled as many of them were, it was the supreme art of the -designs and the craftsmanship of their execution that was their main -attraction. - -Little Aline was too overcome to speak. At last she recovered herself -sufficiently to say;--“And are all of these things mine?” - -“Of course they are,” said Master Richard, “and I do not know any one -more worthy of them.” - -She was silent for some time and then said,--“Well, we cannot leave -them all lying round. I must put everything back.” - -The others helped and, although every one kept commenting on the lovely -things and the strange experience, Aline never said a word all the -time. It was clear that she was thinking hard and that the putting -back of the things was only to give her an opportunity to settle her -thoughts. - -When they had finished they all stood up. - -“Now we can save the Ochil estates,” said Aline triumphantly. “Ian, I -give you half the gold and silver and one of the swords, and you are -to have the other half, Audry darling, and Cousin Richard is to have -Holwick Hall as long as he lives and the other sword. Then everybody is -to have some nice presents from the trays and the box, Audry and Cousin -Richard, and Joan and Mistress Mowbray and all the others, and Ian is -to have the rest.” - -“Impossible,” said Ian. - -“Nonsense,” said Master Richard. - -“Absurd,” said Audry. - -“I absolutely mean what I say,” said Aline. - -“But you have left nothing for yourself,” objected Audry. - -“Yes, I shall have Holwick when I am old and no longer able to do -anything; and if you are not married we can live together.” - -“My little maiden must not be foolish,” said Ian. “I think you are -quite right to let Audry have half, unless you let Cousin Richard have -the use of it first, for it would go to Audry, and I am sure you are -right about Holwick; but my estates have nothing to do with you, sweet -child. Besides how are you going to live until you are too old to do -anything? You cannot go a begging, princess, and some one would have to -take care of you.” - -“O dear, I had not thought about that. Yes, I suppose I should need -some one to look after me.” - -“I will look after you, little heart, if Cousin Richard will let me,” -said Ian softly. - -Richard Mowbray laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I agree,” -he said. - -Aline put up her hands and drew down Ian’s face till their lips met. -A look of happy content shone in her eyes. “Then I shall be well -protected,” she said. - - MY DEAR CHILDREN: - - The time has now come to say good-bye, both to you and Aline; but - it might interest you to know that I read the story to a little - girl before it was quite finished and asked her if there was - anything she would like to suggest. “Yes,” she said, “a birthday - party.” - - Now a sixteenth century birthday party was rather a difficulty - as I never saw one described; but then there were so many - difficulties of that sort. People in those days, for instance, - thought that shaking hands was a much warmer sign of affection - than kissing. You probably know that in France men still kiss - each other at the railway station. But that would not do for my - story. So, as in the case of language, I have modernized to suit - my purpose. When, therefore, your learned uncle tells you that - the story is all wrong and that they did not fence with helmets - and that the curtsey was not invented till much later and that - the library is far too big and so on; you just tell him to write - you a sixteenth century story and then you send it to me, and we - will see how he gets along. - - If any of you would write to me and tell me what you would - like altered or what else you would like put in, I should be - delighted. The story is only written to please you and I wish I - could see you and tell it to you myself. Also you might let me - know what you think ought to happen to Aline and then, if you - like the story, I will write you a sequel. But you must tell me - how old you are, that is a very important point. - - With best wishes from Avis and myself;--now do not tell me that - you do not know who Avis is,--look at the dedication and the - first chapter and guess. - - Yours aff’ly, - IAN B. STOUGHTON HOLBORN. - - 1735 Grand Central Terminal, - New York City. - (or, in Britain, Merton College, Oxford). - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -The following are changes known to have been made to the text -as it appears in the original publication: - - Page 65 - new art of swordmanship _changed to_ - new art of swordsmanship - - Page 91 - The vinter’s daughter _changed to_ - The vintner’s daughter - - Page 101 - chance in that abode.’” _changed to_ - chance in that abode.’ - - Page 135 - glancing at Aline. There will be _changed to_ - glancing at Aline. “There will be - - Page 137 - had befallen her that night. _changed to_ - had befallen her that night.” - - Page 147 - some of Aisop _changed to_ - some of Aesop - - Page 182 - “talium enim est regnum dei” _changed to_ - “talium enim est regnum dei,” - - Page 248 - brushed passed him as she spoke _changed to_ - brushed passed him as she spoke - - Page 288 - and the seventh day from now.” _changed to_ - and the seventh day from now. - - Page 376 - gift of love,’ he read. Pray God _changed to_ - gift of love,’” he read. “Pray God - - Page 386 - gently on a mattress _changed to_ - gently on a mattrass - - Page 390 - What I did was nothing” he said _changed to_ - What I did was nothing,” he said - - Page 392 - But listen to this: ‘Exactly - But listen to this: Exactly - - Page 405 - in a smaller receptable - in a smaller receptacle - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Child of the Moat, by Ian B. 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Stoughton Holborn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Child of the Moat - A Story for Girls. 1557 A.D. - -Author: Ian B. Stoughton Holborn - -Release Date: October 15, 2016 [EBook #53281] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILD OF THE MOAT *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<hr class="divider mt3" /> -<h1>THE CHILD OF THE MOAT<br /> -<small>1557 A.D.<br /> -A STORY FOR GIRLS</small></h1> -<hr class="divider2" /> - -<div class="hidehand"> -<div class="figcenter width500"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="782" alt="Cover" /> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="catalogue-box"> -<p class="center p140">BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> - -<table summary="Book prices"> -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Children of Fancy</span> (Poems)</td> -<td class="tdr2">$2.00</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Jacopo Robusti, Called Tintoretto</span></td> -<td class="tdr2">(Out of print)</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">Architectures of European Religions</span></td> -<td class="tdr2">$2.00</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="smcap">The Need for Art in Life</span></td> -<td class="tdr2">.75</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="center">G. ARNOLD SHAW<br /> -GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL, NEW YORK</p> -</div></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter mt3"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<p class="center p180">THE<br /> -CHILD OF THE MOAT</p> - -<p class="center p140">A STORY FOR GIRLS. 1557 A.D.</p> - -<p class="center p140"><small>BY</small><br /> -IAN B. STOUGHTON HOLBORN</p> - -<div class="colophon width180"> -<img src="images/colophon.png" width="180" height="94" alt="Colophon" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p140"><small>1916</small><br /> -G. ARNOLD SHAW<br /> -<small>NEW YORK</small></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter mt3"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -</div> -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY G. ARNOLD SHAW</p> -<hr class="short" /> -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN AND COLONIES</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter mt3"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -</div> -<p class="center">DEDICATED<br /> -TO<br /> -AVIS DOLPHIN</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter mt3"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h2><a name="preface" id="preface"></a>PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<p>On the analogy of the famous apple,—“there ain’t going to be no” -preface, “not nohow.” Children do not read prefaces, so anything of a -prefatory nature that might interest them is put at the beginning of -chapter one.</p> - -<p>As for the grown-ups the story is not written for grown-ups, and if -they want to know why it begins with such a gruesome first chapter, -let them ask the children. Children like the horrors first and the end -all bright. Many grown-ups like the tragedy at the end. But perhaps -the children are right and the grown-ups are standing on their heads. -Besides they can skip the first chapter; it is only a prologue.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter mt3"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th> -<th> </th> -<th class="tdr2">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Hate</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Secrets</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Hate and Love</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Prisoner</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">55</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Thief</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">79</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Bitterness</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">94</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Death</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">104</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Remorse</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Judgment</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">115</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">X</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Packman’s Visit</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">126</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Swords and Questionings</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">140</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"><span class="smcap">“Moll o’ the Graves”</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">156</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Coming Events Cast Shadows</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">166</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Good-Bye</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">182</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Terror of the Mist</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">189</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">A Desperate Task</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">200</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Carlisle</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">217</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">A Diplomatic Victory</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">226</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Loss</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xix">247</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Persecution</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xx">253</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Torture</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxi">259</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">To the Rescue</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxii">282</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Duel to the Death</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxiii">296</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXIV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">A Ride in Vain</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxiv">317</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">Amazing Discoveries</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxv">329</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXVI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Battle of Liddisdale</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxvi">344</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXVII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Birthday Party</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxvii">354</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXVIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Last Adventure</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxviii">378</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXIX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">A Tale of a Tub</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxix">388</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap"> <span class="smcap">The Great Iron Chest</span></td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxx">401</a></td> -</tr></table> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<img src="images/i-f010.jpg" width="400" height="429" alt="Plan of the Hall Holwick, Yorkshire" /> - -<p class="hang2">A, <span class="smcap">Staircase to Solar and Aline’s Room</span>; B, <span class="smcap">Staircase -to Solar and North Rooms</span>; C, <span class="smcap">Buttery</span> (the place -where the drink was kept, Cf. French <em>boire</em>); D, <span class="smcap">Pantry</span> -(the place where the food was kept, Cf. French <em>pain</em>); E, -<span class="smcap">Chapel</span>.</p> - -<p class="noi mb0"><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—The approach is from the north, therefore the usual -position of the compass is inverted. The scale is a scale of feet.</p> - -<div class="float-right mt0"> -<p class="box center mt0">PLAN OF THE HALL<br /> -HOLWICK, YORKSHIRE</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span> -</div> - -<p class="center p180">THE CHILD OF THE MOAT<br /> -<small>A STORY FOR GIRLS</small></p> -<hr class="short" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="i" id="i"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> -<small>HATE</small></h2> -</div> -<div class="block-centre"> -<div class="block"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line">Sweet children of demurest air,</div> -<div class="line">Pale blossoms woven through your hair,</div> -<div class="line indent">On shifting rainbows gathering,</div> -<div class="line">Endowed with love’s engaging mien</div> -<div class="line">And crowding lips that toward me lean,</div> -<div class="line">Through little hands, outstretched between</div> -<div class="line indent">In sympathetic wondering.</div> -</div> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line">Children, ye cannot understand,</div> -<div class="line">Floating in that enchanted land,</div> -<div class="line indent">The pathos of our helplessness;</div> -<div class="line">And yet your winsome faces bear,</div> -<div class="line">Though ye yourselves are unaware,</div> -<div class="line">The antidote of our despair,—</div> -<div class="line indent">Exorcists of our hopelessness.</div> -</div> -<p class="right"><em>Children of Fancy: The Guelder Roses.</em></p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE great ship <em>Lusitania</em> was nearing Queenstown on May 7th, 1915, -when a terrible explosion occurred, and in fifteen minutes she had -sunk. Among some 1700 adults and 500 children were a lecturer on art -and archaeology and a little girl, with whom he had made friends on -board. About 700 people escaped and these two were both eventually -picked up out of the water. When they reached the land there was -no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span> one left to look after her; so he first took her across to her -relatives in England and then she went to live in the home of the -archaeologist, in Scotland, who had three little boys of his own but no -little girls.</p> - -<p>Archaeologists do not know anything about girls’ story books, and he -may have been misinformed when he was told that girls’ books were too -tame and that most girls preferred to read the more exciting books of -their brothers. However, this made him decide himself to write a story -for the little girl, which should be full of adventures. It was frankly -a melodramatic story, a story of love and hate, and he chose the period -of the Reformation, so as to have two parties bitterly opposed to each -other; but, except for dramatic purposes, religious problems were as -far as possible left out.</p> - -<p>One difficulty was as to whether the characters should speak in old -English; but, as that might have made it hard to read, only a few old -words and phrases were introduced here and there, just, as it were, to -give a flavour.</p> - -<p>Afterwards the author was asked to publish the story “for precocious -girls of thirteen,” as it was delightfully phrased; that is to say, -for girls of thirteen and upwards and perhaps for grown up people, but -hardly for superior young ladies of about seventeen; and this is the -story:</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Father Laurence, the parish priest of Middleton, was returning home -from Holwick on a dark night in the late spring. He had come from the -bedside of a dying woman and the scene was unpleasantly impressed on -his mind. Sarah Moulton had certainly not been a blessing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span> to her -neighbours, but, in spite of that, he felt sorry for the delicate child -left behind, as he did not see what was to become of it. He felt very -troubled, too, about the poor creature, herself, for was not his task -the cure of souls? Not that Sarah Moulton was much of a mother; but -perhaps any kind of a mother was better than nothing, and the poor -child had loved her; yet, after she had received the viaticum, she had -given vent to the most frightful curses on her neighbours. “If I cannot -get the better of Janet Arnside in life,” she had screamed, “I will get -the better of her when I am dead. I will haunt her and drive her down -the path to Hell, I will never let her rest, I will....” and with these -words on her lips the soul had fled from her body. He sighed a little -wearily. He was famished and worn for he had previously been a long -tramp nearly to Lunedale. “I do my best,” he said, “but I am afraid the -task is too difficult for me. I wish there were some one better than -myself in Upper Teesdale: poor Sarah!”</p> - -<p>Father Laurence’ way led through the churchyard, but clear as his -conscience was, he had never been able to free himself from a certain -fear in passing through it on a dark night. Could it be true that the -spirits of the departed could plague the living? Of course it could -not; and yet, somehow, he was not able to rid himself of the unwelcome -thought. As he passed through the village and drew nearer to the -church, he half resolved to go round. No, that was cowardly and absurd. -He would not allow idle superstitions to get the better of him.</p> - -<p>But when he approached the gate he hesitated and his heart began to -beat violently. What was that unearthly screech in the darkness of the -night? He crossed himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> devoutly, however, and said a Paternoster -and stepped through the wicket gate. “‘Libera nos a malo,’ yes, deliver -us from evil, indeed,” he said, as, dimly on the sky line he saw a -shadowy figure with long gaunt arms stretched to the sky.</p> - -<p>He crossed himself again, when a ghoulish laugh rang through the still -night air. He turned a little to the left, but the figure came swiftly -toward him. He wanted to run, but duty bade him refrain. His heart beat -yet more violently as the figure approached and at length he stood -still, unable to move.</p> - -<p>The figure came closer, and closer still, stretching out its arms, and -finally a harsh voice said: “Is that you, Father Laurence? Ha! Ha! I -told you Sarah Moulton would die. You need not tell me about it.”</p> - -<p>It was old Mary, “Moll o’ the graves,” as the folk used to call -her. Father Laurence felt a little reassured, but she was not one -whom anybody would wish to meet on a dark night, least of all in a -churchyard.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, Mary? Why are you not in your bed,” he asked; -“disturbing honest folk at this time of night?”</p> - -<p>“You let me alone,” she replied, “with your saints and your prayers and -your Holy Mother. I go where I please and do as I please. I knew Sarah -would die. I like folk to die,” she said with horrible glee; “and she -cursed Janet Arnside, did she? A curse on them all, every one of them. -I wish she would die too; ay, and that slip of a girl that Sarah has -left behind. What are you shaking for?” she added. “Do you think I do -not know what is going on? You have nothing to tell me;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> I assure you -the powers are on our side. There is nothing like the night and the -dark.”</p> - -<p>“You are a wicked woman, Mary,” said the old priest sorrowfully, “and -God will punish you one day. See you—I am going home; you go home too.”</p> - -<p>“You may go home if you like,” said the old hag as he moved on, “and my -curses go with you; but I stay here;” and she stood and looked after -him as he faded into the darkness.</p> - -<p>“Silly old dotard,” she growled; “I saw him at her bedside or ever I -came along here. The blessed sacrament indeed; and much may it profit -her! I wish now I had waited and seen what he did after she had gone; -comforted that child, I expect! Fancy loving a mother like that! Ha! -Ha! No, I am glad I came here and scared the pious old fool.”</p> - -<p>She moved among the tombs and sat down near an open grave that had just -been dug. “Pah! I am sick of their nonsense. Why cannot they leave -folk in peace? I want to go my own way; why should I not go my own -way? All my life they have been at me, ever since I was a little girl. -My foolish old mother began it. Why should I not please myself? Well, -she’s dead anyway! I like people to die. And now Mother Church is at -me. Why should I think of other people, why should I always be holding -myself in control? No, I let myself go, I please myself.”</p> - -<p>“I have no patience with any of them,” she muttered, “and now there is -a new one to plague me,” and “Moll o’ the graves” saw in her mind’s -eye a slim, graceful girl of twelve, endowed with an unparalleled -refinement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> of beauty. “What do they mean by bringing that child -to Holwick Hall,” she continued, “as if things were not bad enough -already,—a-running round and waiting on folk, a-tending the sick and -all the rest of it? Let them die! I like them to die. Self-sacrifice -and self-control forsooth! They say she is clever and well-schooled -and mistress of herself and withal sympathetic. What’s the good of -unselfishness and self-control? No, liberty, liberty—that’s the thing -for you, Moll. Self-control, indeed!” and again the ghastly laugh rang -through the night air. “Yes, liberty, Moll,—liberty. Are you not -worth more than all their church-ridden priests and docile unselfish -children? What avails unselfishness and affection? Father Laurence and -Aline Gillespie, there’s a pair of them! No, hate is the thing, hate -is better than love. Scandal and spite and jealousy—that’s true joy, -that’s the true woman, Moll,” and she rubbed her hands with unholy -mirth.</p> - -<p>As she talked to herself the moon rose and gradually the churchyard -became light. “Love!” she went on, “love! Yes, Oswald, that’s where -they laid you,” she said, as she looked at the next place to the open -grave. “Ah, but hate got the better of your love, for all that, fine -big man that you were, a head taller than the rest of the parish, and -all the girls after you, too!”</p> - -<p>She looked at the side of the open grave, where the end of a bone -protruded. She pulled it out. It was a femur of unusual size. “Yes, -Oswald,” she repeated, “and that’s yours. You did not think I would be -holding your thigh-bone these forty years after!</p> - -<p>“Ha! you loved me, did you? I was a pretty lass then. Yes, you loved -me, I know you loved me. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span> would have died for me, and I loved you, -too. But little Sarah loved you and you loved her. I know you loved me -most, but I would not have that. ‘I should have controlled myself,’ you -say; ha! I was jealous and I hated you. Self-control and love;—no, no, -liberty and hate, liberty and hate; and when you were ill I came to see -you and I saw the love-light in your eyes. They thought you would get -well. Of course you would have got well; but there you were, great big, -strong man, weak as a child,—a child! I hate children. Was that it? -You tried to push my hands off, as I pressed the pillow on your face, -you tried; oh, you tried hard, and I laugh to think of it even now. How -I longed to bury my fingers in your throat, but I knew they would leave -marks.</p> - -<p>“Yes, liberty and hate, ha! ha! I would do it again. See, Oswald!” and -she took the brittle bone and viciously snapped it across her knee. -“Self-control! love! unselfishness! Never! And that child up at the -Hall, Oswald, I must send her after you. I have just frightened Sarah -down to you. You can have her now, and that child shall come next. Hate -is stronger than love. Liberty, self-will and hate must win in the end.”</p> - -<p>The abandoned old wretch stood up and took her stick—she could not -stand quite straight—and hobbled with uncanny swiftness across to a -newly made child’s grave and began to scrape with her hands; but at -that moment she heard the night-watchman coming along the lane; so she -rose and walked back to Newbiggin, where she lived.</p> - -<p>She opened the door and found the tinder box and struck a light, and -then went to a corner where there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> an old chest. She unlocked it -and peered in and lifted out a bag and shook it. It was full of gold. -“Yes,” she said, “money is a good thing, too. How little they know -what ‘old Moll o’ the graves’ has got,—old, indeed, Moll is not old! -Ah, could not that money tell some strange tales? Love and learning -and self-control! Leave all that to the priests. Hate will do for -me,—money and liberty are my gods.</p> - -<p>“Aha, Aline Gillespie, you little fool, what do you mean by crossing my -path? I was a pretty little girl once and you are not going to win the -love of Upper Teesdale folk for nothing, I’ll warrant you.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ii" id="ii"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> -<small>SECRETS</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> AM so tired of this rain,” said Audry, as she rose and crossed the -solar<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="footnote">[1]</a> and went to the tall bay window with its many mullions and sat -down on the window seat. “It is three days since we have been able to -get out and no one has seen the top of Mickle Fell for a week. The gale -is enough to deafen one,” she added, “while the moat is like a stormy -sea,—and just look at the mad dancers in the rain-rings on the water!”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="anchor">[1]</span></a> The predecessor of the withdrawing room or drawing room.</p></div> - -<p>It was a terrible day, the river was in spate<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2" href="#Footnote_2_2" class="footnote">[2]</a> indeed, carrying down -great trees and broken fences and even, now and then, some unfortunate -beast that had been swept away in the violence of the storm.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2" href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="anchor">2</span></a> In torrent.</p></div> - -<p>“The High Force must be a wonderful sight though,” she continued, “the -two falls must be practically one in all this deluge.”</p> - -<p>“I do not altogether mind the rain,” said her little friend; “there is -something wonderful about it and I always rather like the sound of the -wind; it has a nice eerie suggestion, and makes me think of delightful -stories of fairies and goblins and strange adventures.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that may be all right for you, Aline, because you can tell -magnificent stories yourself; but I cannot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> and it only makes me feel -creepy and the rain annoys me because I cannot go out. I wish that we -had adventures ourselves, but of course nothing exciting ever happens -to us.”</p> - -<p>“They probably would not really be nice if they did happen. These -things are better to read about than to experience.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Audry; “anyway, the only exciting thing that ever -happened to me was when you came to stay here. I really was excited -when mother told me that a distant cousin of my own age was coming from -Scotland to live with us; and I made all sorts of pictures of you in my -mind. I thought that you would have a freckled face and be very big and -strong and fond of climbing trees and jumping and good shouting noisy -games and that kind of thing.”</p> - -<p>“You must be very disappointed then.”</p> - -<p>“No, not exactly; I never thought that you would be so pretty:—was -your mother pretty, Aline?”</p> - -<p>“I do not remember my mother,” and a momentary cloud seemed to pass -over the child’s beautiful face, “but her portrait that Master Lindsay -painted is very beautiful, and father always said that it did not do -her justice. It is very young, not much older than I am; she was still -very young when she died.”</p> - -<p>“How old was she?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know exactly,” Aline answered, moving over to the window-seat -and sitting down by Audry, “but I remember there was once some talk -about it. Her name was Margaret and she was named after her grandmother -or her great grandmother, who was lady in waiting to Queen Margaret, -and who not only had the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> same name as the Queen but was born on the -same day and married on the same day.”</p> - -<p>“What Queen Margaret,” asked Audry, “and how has it anything to do with -your mother?”</p> - -<p>“Well, that is just what I forget,” said Aline with a smile like April -sunshine;—“I used to think it was your queen, Margaret of Anjou, -who married Henry IV; but she seems to be rather far back, so I have -thought it might be Margaret Tudor, who married our James IV.</p> - -<p>“I expected their age would settle it,” she continued, stretching out -her arms and putting her hands on Audry’s knees. “I looked it up; -but they were almost the same, your queen was fourteen years and one -month when she married and ours was thirteen years and nine months. -But I know that mother was exactly six months older to a day when she -married, and I know that she died before the year was out.”</p> - -<p>“Then she was not nearly sixteen anyway,” said Audry; “how sad to die -before one was sixteen!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Audry, it is terrible, but there is worse than that,—think of -poor Lady Jane Grey who was barely sixteen when she and her husband -were executed. Father used to tell me that I was something like the -Lady Jane.”</p> - -<p>“Had he seen her?”</p> - -<p>“No, I do not think so; he was in France with our Queen Mary at the -time of the Lady Jane’s death and your Queen Mary’s accession: for a -short time he was a captain in the Scots Guard in France.”</p> - -<p>“Were you with him and have you seen the Queen? She is about your age, -is she not?”</p> - -<p>“No, I have not seen her, but she is a little older than I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> am. She is -fourteen and is extraordinarily beautiful. They say her wedding to the -Dauphin is to take place very soon. If father had been alive I might -have seen it.”</p> - -<p>“Was your father good looking?” asked Audry.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he was said to be the handsomest man in the Lothians.”</p> - -<p>“That explains it, then,” she went on, looking somewhat enviously at -her companion; “but I wish you cared more for games and horses and -running and a good romp and were not so fond of old books. Fancy a girl -of your age being able to read the Latin as well as a priest. Father -says that you know far more Latin than he does and that you can even -read the Greek.”</p> - -<p>“But I <em>can</em> run,” Aline objected, “and I can swim, too.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you can run, though you do not look like it, you wee slender -thing, but you do not love it as I do;” and Audry stood up to display -her sturdy little form. “Now if we were to wrestle,” she said, “where -would you be?”</p> - -<p>Aline only laughed and said: “Well, there is one good thing in reading -books, it gives one something to do in wet weather. Let us go down to -the library and see if I cannot find something nice to read to you.”</p> - -<p>“Come along, then, and read to me from that funny old book by Master -Malory, with the pictures.”</p> - -<p>“You mean the ‘Morte d’Arthur,’ I suppose, with the stories of King -Arthur and the Round Table. That certainly is exciting and I am so fond -of it. I often wish that there were knights going about now to fight -for us in tourney and to rescue us from tyrants. It would be nice to -have anybody care for one so much.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p> - -<p>“You silly little one, they would not trouble their heads about you, -you are only twelve years old.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” answered Aline with a half sigh, as she thought of her -present condition.</p> - -<p>“I do not believe there is anybody in the world that cares for me,” she -said to herself, “except perhaps Audry, and I have only known her such -a little time that she cannot care much. I don’t suppose there are many -little girls who can be as lonely as I am. I have not even an aunt or -uncle. Yes, I do want some one to love me, it is all so very hard; I -wish I had a sister or a brother.”</p> - -<p>In a way, doubtless, Audry’s mother did not mean to be altogether -cruel; but she had no love for her small visitor and thought that it -was unnecessary for Master Mowbray to bring her to Holwick Hall. So she -always found plenty of heavy work for the child to do and often made -excuses when Audry had some dainty or extra pleasure as to why Aline -should not have her share. Aline thought of her father, Captain Angus -Gillespie of Logan, and remembered his infinite care for her when she -had been the apple of his eye. It had been a sad little life;—first -she had been motherless from infancy and then had followed the long -financial difficulties that she did not understand; but one thing after -another had gone; and just before her father died they had had to leave -Logan Tower and go and live in Edinburgh; and the little estate was -sold.</p> - -<p>Audry in her rough, kindly way, flung her arms round the slim form and -kissed her. “Do not think melancholy things; come along to the library -and see what we can find.” So they left the solar and went down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> -through the hall and out into the upper court. They raced across the -court, because of the rain, and up the little flight of nine steps, -three at a time, till they were on the narrow terrace that ran along -the front of the library.</p> - -<p>Aline reached the door first, and, as she swung back the heavy oak with -its finely carved panels, exclaimed: “There, I told you I could run.”</p> - -<p>They shut the door and walked down the broad central space. The library -had been built in the fifteenth century by Master James Mowbray, -Audry’s great-great-grandfather, and was supposed to be the finest in -the North of England. It was divided on each side into little alcoves, -each lit by its own window and most of the books were chained to their -places, being attached to a long rod that ran along the top of each -shelf. At the end of each alcove was a lock with beautifully wrought -iron tracery work that held the rod so that it could not be pulled out. -The library was very dusty and was practically never used, as the -present lord of Holwick was not a scholar; so for the last four years -since he had succeeded to the estate it had been neglected and Aline -was almost the only person who ever entered it.</p> - -<p>The children walked down the room admiring the delicate iron work of -the locks, for which Aline had a great fancy and she had paused at one, -which was her particular favourite, and was fingering every part of it -affectionately, when she noticed that a small sculptured figure was -loose and could be made to slide upwards. This excited her curiosity -and she pushed it to and fro to see if it was for any special purpose, -till suddenly she discovered that, when the figure was pushed as high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> -as it would go, the whole lock could be pulled forward like a little -door on a hinge, revealing a small cavity behind. Both children started -and peered eagerly into the space disclosed, where they found a very -thin little leather book which was dropping to pieces with old age. -They took it out and examined it and found that the cover had separated -so as to lay open what had been a secret pocket in the cover, which -contained a piece of stout parchment the same size as the pages of the -book.</p> - -<p>The book was written in black letter and was in Latin. “Now you see the -use of knowing Latin,” said Aline triumphantly, with a twinkle in her -dark blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“That depends whether it is interesting,” Audry replied.</p> - -<p>“It seems to be an account of the building of Holwick Hall; but what is -the use of this curious piece of parchment with all these holes cut in -it?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you can find out if you read the book,” suggested Audry. “It -certainly must be of some importance or they would not have taken all -that trouble to hide the book and also the parchment in the book. Let -us sit down and see what you can make of it.”</p> - -<p>So they sat down and Aline was soon deeply interested in the account -of the building, how the great dining hall was erected first, then the -buttery, pantry and kitchen and afterwards the beautiful solar. Audry -found her interest flag; although, when it came to the building of her -room and the cost of the different items, she brightened up. “Still,” -she said, “I do not see why all this should be kept so secret; any one -might know all that we have read.”</p> - -<p>There was one thing that seemed to promise interest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> but apparently -it led to nothing. At the beginning of the book was a dedication which -could be translated thus: “To my heirs trusting that this may serve -them as it has served me.” But in what way it was to serve them did not -appear, and the evening was closing in and it was getting dark, but the -children were as far as ever from discovering the meaning of the phrase -or of the parchment with the holes.</p> - -<p>“Let us take it to our room,” Aline said at last; “it is not chained -like the others. We can hide it in the armoire and read with the little -lamp when the others have gone to sleep and no one is likely to come -in.”</p> - -<p>So they put the piece of parchment to mark the place, ran to their room -and hid the book and went to join the rest of the family.</p> - -<p>It was nearly time for rere-supper<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3" href="#Footnote_3_3" class="footnote">[3]</a> and Master Richard Mowbray had -just come in. He was dripping wet and the water ran down in long -streams across the floor. “Gramercy,” he exclaimed, “it is not a fit -day for a dog let alone a horse or a man. Come and pull off my boots, -wench,” he went on, catching sight of Aline.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3" href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="anchor">3</span></a> A meal taken about 8 o’clock.</p></div> - -<p>He sat down and Aline with her little white hands manfully struggled -with the great boots. “You are not much good at it,” he said roughly, -when at last she succeeded in tugging off the first one. “Ah, well, -never mind,” he added, when he saw her wince at his words, and stooped -and kissed her and called to one of the men to come and take off the -other boot. “You cannot always live on a silk cushion, lassie,” he went -on, not unkindly, “you must work like the rest of us.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is a strange thing where that man can have got,” he continued; “in -all this rain it is impossible that he can have gone far.”</p> - -<p>“Let us hope he is drowned,” Mistress Mowbray remarked; “that would -save us further trouble, but it is a pity that a man meant for the fire -should finish in the water.”</p> - -<p>“Some of the folk going to Middleton say that they saw a stranger -early this morning, playing with a child, but he turned off toward the -hills,” one of the serving men observed.</p> - -<p>“That’s he, but it’s hard enough to find a man in a bog-hole, -particularly on a day like this, yet Silas Morgan and William -Nettleship have both taken over a score of men and there must easily be -two score of others on the hills; you would think that they would find -him. He cannot know the hills as we do,” said Master Mowbray.</p> - -<p>There was silence for a time and then he spoke again,—“Of course those -people might be mistaken; but he could not get over Middleton Bridge -after the watch was set, and I do not see how any one could get over -the river to-day, it is simply a boiling torrent. Well, they are on the -look out on the Appleby side and he must come down somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“What is he wanted for?” Audry ventured to ask.</p> - -<p>“Wanted for?” almost shrieked Mistress Mowbray, “a heretic blaspheming -Mother Church, whom the good priest said was a servant of the devil.”</p> - -<p>“But what is a heretic and how does he blaspheme Mother Church?” Audry -persisted.</p> - -<p>“I do not know and I do not want to know,” said Mistress Mowbray.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then if you do not know, how can you tell that it is wrong? You must -know what he says, Mother, before you can judge him.”</p> - -<p>“I was brought up a good daughter of the church, and I know when I am -right, and look here, you young hussie, what do you mean by talking to -your mother like that? It’s that good for nothing baggage, that your -father has brought from Scotland, that has been putting these notions -into your head, with her book learning and nonsense. I assure you that -I won’t have any more of it, you little skelpie,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4" href="#Footnote_4_4" class="footnote">[4]</a> you are not too old -for a good beating yet, and I tell you what;—I will not have the two -of you wasting your time in that library, I shall lock it up, and you -are not to go in there without permission, and that will not be yet -awhile, I can promise you.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4" href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="anchor">4</span></a> A girl young enough to be whipped (skelped).</p></div> - -<p>After this outburst the meal was eaten in silence and every one felt -very uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>When supper was over the sky seemed to show signs of breaking and -Master Mowbray ventured to express a hope that the next day would be -fine, and that they would be able to find the heretic on the hills. -“That man has done more mischief than any of the others,” he muttered; -but when pressed to explain himself he changed the subject and said he -must go and see if the water had done any damage in the lower court.</p> - -<p>The children were not sorry to retire to their room when bedtime came. -They had undressed and Audry was helping Aline to brush her great -masses of long hair. What a picture she looked in her little white -night-robe, with her large mysterious dark blue eyes that no one ever -saw without being stirred, and her wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> charm of figure! Her -colouring was as remarkable as her form. The hair was of a deep dark -red, somewhat of the colour beloved by Titian, but with more gloss -and glow although a little lower in tone; that colour which one meets -perhaps once in a lifetime, a full rich undoubted red, but without a -suspicion of the garishness and harshness that belongs to most red -hair. The eyes were of the dark ultramarine blue only found among the -Keltic peoples and even then but rarely, like the darkest blue of the -Mediterranean Sea, when the sapphire hue is touched with a hint of -purple.</p> - -<p>“What is a heretic?” Audry asked; “I am sure you know.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know that I do, but I remember father saying something to me -about it before he died. He said that they were people who were not -satisfied with the way that things were going in the church and that -in particular they denied that it was only through the priests of the -church that God spoke to his people. They say that the priests are no -better than any one else and indeed are sometimes even worse.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know that they claim to be better than other people,” -objected Audry.</p> - -<p>“Well, dear, I am not defending the heretics. I only say what they -think. They do feel, however, that if the priests really were the -special channels of God that that fact itself would make them better. -So, many of them say that God can and does speak directly to all of -us himself, and they all think that it is in the Bible that we can -best learn what he desires, and that the Bible should therefore be -translated into the language of the people.</p> - -<p>“‘This has been the cause of great troubles in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> world for these -many years,’ father said, ‘but, little maid, do not trouble your head -about it now; when you are older we can talk about it.’”</p> - -<p>“Are the heretics such very wicked people then, do you think, Aline?”</p> - -<p>Aline put her little white hand to her chin and looked down. “I do not -know what to think about it,” she said. “I suppose that they are, but -they do not seem to be treated fairly.”</p> - -<p>“I hate unfairness,” said Audry in her impulsive way.</p> - -<p>“I do not see why they should not be allowed to speak for themselves, -and I do not see how people can condemn them when they do not know -what their reasons are for thinking what they do. Of course I am very -young and do not know anything about it; but it sounds as though the -priests were afraid that the truth can not take care of itself; but -surely it cannot be the truth if it is afraid to hear the other side. I -remember a motto on the chimney piece at home,—‘Magna veritas est et -prevalebit,’ and it seems to me that it must be so. I wish that father -were alive to talk to me. He was so clever and he understood things.”</p> - -<p>“But you have not said what your motto means,” Audry interposed.</p> - -<p>Aline laughed through the tears that were beginning to gather,—“Oh, -that means, The truth is great and will prevail. If it is the truth it -must win; and it can do it no harm to have objections raised against -it, as it will only make their error more clear.”</p> - -<p>“What about the book, Aline?” said Audry, changing the subject; “no one -is likely to come up here now, they never do; so I think we could have -another look at it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline picked up the book and opened it; she paused for a moment and -then gave a little cry,—“I have found out what the parchment is for; -come and look here.”</p> - -<p>Audry came and looked. “I do not see anything,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Look at the parchment; do you not see one or two letters showing -through nearly all the little holes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“What are they?”</p> - -<p>“b. u. t. o. n. e. m. u. s. t. s. e. e. t. h. a. t. a. l. i. g. h. t. -i. s. n. e. v. e. r. c. a. r. r. i. e. d. i. n. f. r. o. n. t. o. f. t. -h. e. s. l. i. t. s. i. n. t. h. e.,” read Audry, a letter at a time.</p> - -<p>“And what does that spell?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see,— It spells, ‘but one must see that a light is never -carried in front of the slits in the.’ How clever of you to find it -out!”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was more or less accident; the parchment is exactly the size -of the paper and as I shut the book I naturally made it all even. So, -when I opened it in this room, it was lying even on the page and I -could not help seeing the letters and what they spelt.”</p> - -<p>“I should never have noticed it, Aline; why I did not even notice at -once that the letters spelt anything after you had shown me.”</p> - -<p>“Let us go back to the beginning and then,” said Aline, “we shall -discover what it is all about.”</p> - -<p>So she turned to the beginning of the book and placed the parchment -over the page and found that it began like this;—“Having regard to -the changes and misfortunes of this life and the dangers that we may -incur, I have provided for myself and my heirs a place of refuge and -a way of escape in the evil day. This book containeth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> a full account -of the building of Holwick Hall; so that it will be easily possible to -follow that which I now set down. Below the Library on the west side of -the house just above the level of the moat, there is a secret chamber, -which communicateth with a passage below the moat that hath an exit in -the roof of the small cave in the gully that lieth some two hundred -paces westward of the Hall of Holwick. The way of entrance thereto is -threefold. There is an entrance from the library itself. There is also -an entrance from the small Chamber that occupieth the southwest corner -of the building on the topmost floor.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that is our bedroom, the room that we are in now!” Audry -exclaimed. “Do let us try and find it.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment; the book will probably tell us all about it,” and Aline -resumed her reading.</p> - -<p>“‘There is a third method of approach from the store-chamber or closet -on the ground floor in the southeast corner of the lower quadrangle.’”</p> - -<p>“That is the treasury, where the silver and the other plate is kept,” -said Audry; “go on.”</p> - -<p>“‘In the corner of the library that goeth round behind the newel stair -there is a great oaken coffer that is fastened to the floor, in the -which are the charters and the license to crenellate<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5" href="#Footnote_5_5" class="footnote">[5]</a> and sundry -other parchments.’”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5" href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="anchor">5</span></a> To make battlements or crenellations. A house could not be -fortified without a royal license.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Oh, I have often wondered what was in that kist,” said Audry; “how -really exciting things have become at last, but I want to find out the -way to get down from our room; do go on.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> -<img src="images/i-p023.jpg" width="400" height="294" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">THE OLD SWORD-KIST.</div> -</div> - -<p>“You must not keep interrupting then,” said Aline and continued her -reading. “‘Now the bottom of this kist can be lifted for half its -breadth, if the nail head with the largest rosette below the central -hinge be drawn forth. After so doing, the outer edge of the plank next -the wall in the bottom of the chest can be pushed down slightly, which -will cause the inner edge to rise a little. This can then be taken by -the hand and lifted. In exactly the same manner the plank of the floor -immediately underneath can be raised.’</p> - -<p>“I hope you understand it all,” Aline remarked.</p> - -<p>“I am not quite sure that I do,” said Audry. “Yes, I think it is quite -clear; it’s very like the way the lid works on the old sword-kist.”</p> - -<p>“But we cannot get into the library and, even if we could,” said Audry, -“the kist might be locked.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span></p> - -<p>“Never mind that now; I expect that our room will come next,” said -Aline. “Yes, listen to this:—‘In the topmost chamber a different -device is adopted for greater safety by means of variety. If the -ambry<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6" href="#Footnote_6_6" class="footnote">[6]</a> nigh unto the door be opened it will be found that the shelf -will pull forward an inch and a finger can be inserted behind it on the -left hand side, and a small lever can be pushed backward. This enables -the third plank near the newel-stair<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7" href="#Footnote_7_7" class="footnote">[7]</a> wall to be lifted by pressing -down the western end thereof, and a bolt may be found which, being -withdrawn, one of the panels will fall somewhat and may be pushed right -down by the hand. The newel-stair, though it appeareth not, is double -and one may creep down thereby to the chamber itself.’”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6" href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="anchor">6</span></a> A small cupboard made in the thickness of the wall.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7" href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="anchor">7</span></a> A newel staircase is a spiral staircase circling round the -newel, i.e., the centre shaft or post.</p></div> - -<p>The fact was,—that what appeared to be simply the under side of -the steps, to any one going up the staircase, was really a second -staircase, leaving a space of nearly three feet between the two.</p> - -<p>The children did not read further at that time, as they were eager at -once to see if they could put their discovery to the test.</p> - -<p>Aline put down the book and went to the ambry and opened the door. -The single shelf came forward without difficulty. “Have you found -anything?” Audry asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she replied, “but I cannot move it; it is too stiff.”</p> - -<p>“Let me have a try,” and Audry stepped forward and put her fingers into -the space. “My hands are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> stronger than yours,” she said. “Ah, that -is it!” she exclaimed, as she felt the lever move to one side, and by -working it backwards and forwards she soon made it quite loose.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width300"> -<img src="images/i-p025.jpg" width="300" height="447" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">The Moving Plank and the Way to the Secret Room.</div> -</div> - -<p>Aline meanwhile had already put her little foot on the third board, -at the end just against the wall, and felt it yield. The other end -was now sufficiently raised to allow of the fingers being passed -underneath. She lifted it up and found that it was simply attached to -a bar about six inches from the wall-end. They both peeped into the -opening disclosed and felt round it. Aline was the first to find the -bolt and pulled it forward. But alas no panel moved. Audry looked ready -to weep, but Aline exclaimed, “Oh, it must be all right as we have got -so far; let us feel the panels and try and force them down. This is the -one above the bolt,” and she put her fingers on it to try and make it -slide down. She had no sooner spoken than the panel moved an inch and, -slipping her hand inside, she pressed it down to the bottom. The panel -tended to rise again when she let go,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> as the bottom rested on the arm -of a weighted lever. It looked very gloomy inside but the children were -determined to go on. They then found that there was just comfortable -room for them to go backwards down the stairs and that there would have -been room even for a big man to manage it without much difficulty. -There were many cobwebs and once or twice their light threatened to go -out; but at last they reached the bottom, crawling on hands and knees -the whole way. There they found a long narrow passage, in the thickness -of the wall, of immense length. They went along this for a great -distance and then began to get frightened.</p> - -<p>“Where ever can we have got to?” Audry said at length.</p> - -<p>“It is quite clear that we are wrong,” said Aline, “as the library, we -know, is just at the bottom of the newel-stair and the book said that -the secret room was just underneath the library. We must go back.”</p> - -<p>“What if we go wrong again and lose our way altogether, Aline, and -never get out of this horrible place?”</p> - -<p>It was a terrible thought; and the damp smell and forbidding looking -narrow stone passage had a strange effect on the children’s nerves. -Then another thought occurred to Aline that made them still more -nervous. There were occasional slits along the wall for ventilation and -she remembered the words that she had read by chance when she first -discovered the use of the parchment. Supposing that their light should -be seen; what would happen to them then? and yet they dare not put it -out and be left in the dark.</p> - -<p>“I wish that we had never come,” said Audry as they hurried along the -difficult passage. They reached the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> bottom of the stair and felt a -little reassured. They then saw that the passage turned sharply back on -itself and led in a step or two to a door. It was of very stout oak and -plated with iron. They opened it and found that it had eight great iron -bolts that could be shut on that side. Within was a second door equally -strong and, on opening that, they found themselves in the secret room -itself. It was a long apartment only about eight feet high, and was -panelled throughout with oak. There was a large and beautiful stone -fireplace, above which was the inscription,—“Let there be no fire -herein save that the fires above be lit.”</p> - -<p>“That must be in case the smoke should show,” said Aline; “how careful -they have been with every little thing!”</p> - -<p>The room was thick with dust and obviously had not been entered for -many many years. Even if the present occupants of Holwick knew of the -secret room at all, which probably they did not, it was clear that they -never made any use of their knowledge. There was a magnificent old oak -bed in one corner but some of the bedding was moth-eaten and destroyed. -There were also many little conveniences in the room, amongst other -things a small book-case containing several books. On the whole it was -a distinctly pleasant apartment despite the absence of any visible -windows. There were even one or two pictures on the walls. In one -corner on the outer wall was a door, which the children opened, and -which clearly led to the underground passage below the moat; but they -decided not to examine any more that night. So they made their way up -the stairs again back to their room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span></p> - -<p>They were almost too excited to sleep and Aline, as her custom was, -when she lay awake, amused herself by building castles in the air. -Sometimes she would imagine herself as a great lady, sought after by -all the noble knights of the land, but holding herself aloof with -reserved dignity until one, by some deed of unusual distinction, should -win her favour. As a rule, however, this seemed rather a dull part to -play, though there was something naturally queenly in her nature, and -she would therefore prefer something more active. She would take the -old Scots romance of Burd Helen, or Burd Aline, as her own inspiration, -and follow her knight in the disguise of a page over mountain and -torrent and through every hardship. This better suited the romantic -self-sacrifice of her usual moods and, by its imaginary deeds of -heroism, ministered just as much to her sense of exaltation. To-night -had opened vistas of new suggestion; and she pictured her knight and -herself fleeing before a host of enemies and miraculously disappearing -at the critical moment into the secret room. But at last she fell -into a sound slumber and did not wake till it was nearly time for the -morning meal.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="iii" id="iii"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> -<small>HATE AND LOVE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>LINE certainly did not belong to any ordinary type and she would have -puzzled the psychologist to classify. She was so many sided as to be in -a class by herself. She had plenty of common sense and intelligence for -her years and an outlook essentially fair minded and just. But she also -had a quiet hauteur, curiously coupled with humility, and at the same -time a winning manner that was irresistible; so that the strange thing -was that she had only to ask and most people voluntarily submitted -to her desires. This unusual power might have been very dangerous to -her character and spoiled her, had it not been that what she wanted -was almost always just and reasonable and moreover she never used her -power for her own benefit. Further, her humble estimate of her own -capacity for judgment caused her but rarely to exercise the power at -all. In practice it was almost confined to those cases where a sweet -minded child’s natural instinct for fair play sees further than the -sophistries of the adult.</p> - -<p>She was practically unaware of this power, which was destined to bring -her into conflict with Eleanor Mowbray; nor did she take the least -delight, as she might easily have done, in exercising power for power’s -sake.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span></p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray, on the other hand, like so many women, loved -power. Masculine force has so largely monopolised the more obvious -manifestations of power that it might be said to be almost a feminine -instinct to snatch at all opportunities that offer themselves.</p> - -<p>Be that as it may, Mistress Mowbray loved to use power for the sake -of using it; she loved to make her household realise that she was -mistress. She did not exactly mean to be unkind, but they were servants -and they must feel that they were servants. Her attitude to them was -that of the servant who has risen or the one so commonly exhibited -toward servants by small girls, that puzzles and disgusts their small -brothers.</p> - -<p>She would address them contemptuously, or would impatiently lose her -self-control and shout at them. She lacked consideration and would -call them from their main duties to perform petty services, which she -could perfectly well have done for herself. This was irritating to the -servants and there was always a good deal of friction. The servants -tended to lose their loyalty and, when once the bond of common interest -was broken, what did it matter to Martha, the laundry-maid, that she -one day scorched and destroyed the most cherished and valuable piece -of lace that Mistress Mowbray possessed; or of what concern was it to -Edward, the seneschal, that in cleaning the plate, he broke the lid -off her pouncet box and not only did not trouble to tell her, but when -charged with it, coolly remarked, after the manner of his kind,—“Oh, -it came to pieces in my hands!”</p> - -<p>On one occasion, before the discovery of the secret room, when Edward -was away, Thomas, a sly unprincipled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> man, whose duties were with the -horses, had taken his place for the day. The four silver goblets, which -he had placed on the table, were all of them tarnished; and after the -meal was over, Mistress Mowbray said to him sharply,—“Thomas, what do -you mean by putting dirty goblets on the high table?”<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8" href="#Footnote_8_8" class="footnote">[8]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8" href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="anchor">8</span></a> The table on the raised dais at which the family sat. The -retainers sat at the two lower tables. See plan.</p></div> - -<p>“I am sure I did my best, Mistress,” said Thomas; “I spent a great -amount of pains in laying the table, but we all of us make mistakes -sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“Then go and clean them at once, you scullion, and bring them back to -me to look at directly you have finished.”</p> - -<p>“Please, Mistress, that is not my work,” replied Thomas, “and I have a -great deal to do in the stables this afternoon.” As a matter of fact he -had finished his work in the stables and was planning for an easy time.</p> - -<p>“Do you dare to talk to me?” she said, her voice rising. “You are here -to do as you are told; go and clean them at once, or it will be the -worse for you.” She knew that this time the man was within his rights; -but she was not going to be dictated to by a servant.</p> - -<p>Thomas sulkily departed. When he reached the buttery he remembered that -he had noticed Edward cleaning some of the goblets the day before. He -soon found them, and then drew himself a measure of ale and sat down -with a chuckle to enjoy himself over the liquor, while allowing for the -time that would have been needed to clean the silver.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Mistress Mowbray began impatiently to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> walk up and down -the hall. The children were generally allowed to go out after dinner -and amuse themselves, but it was a wet day and Aline was looking -disconsolately out of the window wondering whether she should go into -the library or what she should do, when the angry dame thought that the -child offered an object for the further exercise of her power. “Why are -you idling there?” she said. “They are all short-handed to-day, go you -and scour out the sink and then take out the pig-bucket and be quick -about it.”</p> - -<p>Aline gave a little gasp of surprise, but ran off at once. The buttery -door was open and she saw Thomas drinking and offering a tankard to one -of the other servants, and she heard him laugh loudly as he pointed to -a row of goblets, four of them clean and the rest of them dirty, while -he said,—“Edward cleaned those, and I am waiting here as long as it -would take to clean them.” He caught sight of her and scowled, but she -passed on.</p> - -<p>Aline had soon finished the sink and ran quickly with the pig-bucket, -after which she returned to the dining hall to tell Mistress Mowbray -she had finished. Thomas had just come in, so she stood and waited.</p> - -<p>He held up the four goblets on a tray for Mistress Mowbray to inspect.</p> - -<p>“Yes, those are better, Thomas,” she said frigidly. Thomas could not -conceal a faint smile and the lady became suspicious. “By the way, -Thomas, there are a dozen of these goblets, bring me the others.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mistress,” said Thomas, triumphantly, “but they were all dirty -and I have just cleaned these.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray saw that she could not catch him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> that way, but felt -that the man was somehow getting the better of her, so she merely -replied calmly,—“Then you can clean the whole set, Thomas, and bring -me the dozen to look at.”</p> - -<p>Aline nearly burst into a laugh, but put her hand to her mouth and -smothered it without Mistress Mowbray seeing; but Thomas saw and as he -departed, crest-fallen, he vowed vengeance in his heart.</p> - -<p>“Have you done what I told you, child?” Mistress Mowbray said, turning -to Aline. “Marry, but I trust you have done it well. It is too wet for -you to go out; you can start carding a bag of wool that I will give -you. That will keep you busy.”</p> - -<p>Aline sighed, as she had hoped to get into the library and she wondered -what Audry was doing, who had been shrewd enough to get away, but she -said nothing and turned to her task.</p> - -<p>At first Eleanor Mowbray’s treatment of Aline was merely the joy of -ordering some one about, of compelling some one to do things whether -they liked to or not, just because they were not in a position of power -to say no; but what gave her a secret additional joy was that Aline was -a lady and she herself was not. True, Aline’s father was only one of -the lesser Lairds, but he was a gentleman of coat armour,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9" href="#Footnote_9_9" class="footnote">[9]</a> whereas -Eleanor Mowbray was merely the beautiful daughter of the wealthy -vintner of York. It caused Eleanor Mowbray great satisfaction to have -the power to compel a gentleman’s daughter to serve her in what her -plebeian mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> considered degrading occupations. It was for this reason -therefore that Aline was set to scour sinks, scrub floors and empty -slops, with no deliberate attempt to be unkind, but simply to feed the -love of power.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9" href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="anchor">9</span></a> A gentleman is a man who has the right conferred by a -royal grant to his ancestors or himself of bearing a coat of arms. It -is not as high a rank as esquire with which it is often confused.</p> -</div> - -<p>As a matter of fact, so long as the tasks remained within her physical -strength, Aline was too much of a lady to mind and, if need had been, -would have cleaned out a stable, a pigsty or a sewer itself, with grace -and dignity and even have lent distinction to such occupations.</p> - -<p>But these very qualities led to further antagonism on Eleanor Mowbray’s -part. They were part of that power of the true lady that in Aline was -developed to an almost superhuman faculty and which went entirely -beyond any power of which Mistress Mowbray even dreamed and yet -without the child making any effort to get it. Aline herself indeed -was unconscious of her strength as anything exceptional. She had been -brought up by her father, practically alone and had not as yet come to -realise how different she was from other children.</p> - -<p>It was the morning after the discovery of the secret room that Mistress -Mowbray had the first indication that Aline had a power that might -rival her own. It was a small incident, but it sank deeply and Eleanor -Mowbray did not forget it.</p> - -<p>She was expecting a number of guests to dinner and it looked as though -nothing would be ready in time. She rushed to and fro from the hall -to the kitchen upbraiding the servants and talking in a loud and -domineering tone. But the servants, who were working as hard as the -average of their class, became sullen and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> went about their labours -with less rather than more effort.</p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray was furious and finding Aline still at her spinning -wheel, where she herself had put her, “’Sdeath child,” she exclaimed, -“this is no time for spinning, what possesses you? I cannot get those -varlets to work, everything is in confusion,—knaves!—hussies!—go you -to the kitchen and lend a hand and that right speedily.”</p> - -<p>Aline felt sorry for her hostess, who certainly was like enough to have -her entertainment spoilt. She had already noticed that the servants in -the hall were very half-hearted, so she said, “I will do what I can, -Mistress Mowbray, perhaps I might help to get them to work.”</p> - -<p>“You, indeed,” said the irate lady, “ridiculous child!—but go along -and assist to carry the dishes.”</p> - -<p>Aline rose and passed into the screens and down the central passage to -the kitchen. The place was filled with loud grumbling, almost to the -verge of mutiny.</p> - -<p>As the queenly little figure stood in the doorway, the servants nudged -each other and the voices straightway subsided.</p> - -<p>“Hush, she will be telling tales,” said one of the maids quietly.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” said Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, who was assisting, “surely -you know the child better than that.”</p> - -<p>For a moment or two Aline did not speak and a strange feeling of shame -seemed to pervade the place.</p> - -<p>“Elspeth,” said Aline, while the flicker of a smile betrayed her, “if -you run about so, you’ll wear out your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> shoon; you should sit on the -table and swing your feet like Joseph there.”</p> - -<p>“Now, hinnie, why for are you making fun of an old body?”</p> - -<p>“I would not make fun of you for anything,” said Aline; “but look at -his shoon; are they not fine,—and his beautiful lily-white hands?”</p> - -<p>“Look as if you never did a day’s work, Joe,” said Silas, the reeve.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, he works with his brain, he’s thinking,” said Aline, putting -her hand to her brow with mock gravity. “He’s reckoning up his fortune. -How much is it, Joseph?”</p> - -<p>“Methinks his fortune will all be reckonings,” said Silas, “for he’ll -never get any other kind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll change the subject; there’s going to be a funeral here -to-night,” Aline observed.</p> - -<p>“No, really?” exclaimed half a dozen voices.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s a terrible story and it really ought not to be known; but -you’ll keep it secret I know,” she said, lowering her voice to a -whisper.</p> - -<p>As they crowded round her she went on in mysterious tones, “You know -John Darley and Philip Emberlin.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Joe, rousing himself to take in the situation, “they are -coming here to-night.”</p> - -<p>“They’ve a long way to come and they are not strong,” said Aline, “and -they will arrive hungry and just have to be buried, because there was -nothing to eat. Yes, it’s a sad story; I’m not surprised to see the -tears in your eyes, Joseph, and, in fact, in a manner of speaking you -might say that you will have killed them, you and your accomplices,” -she added, looking round.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p> - -<p>A good tempered laugh greeted this last sally.</p> - -<p>“Marry, we have much to get through. How can I help? It would be a -sorry thing that Holwick should be disgraced before its guests. Give me -something to do.”</p> - -<p>There was nothing in the words, but the tone was one of dignity -combined with gentleness and sympathy.</p> - -<p>The effect was peculiar;—no one felt reproved, but felt rather as -though there was full sympathy with his own point of view; yet at the -same time he was conscious that he would lose his own dignity if he -became querulous and allowed the honour of the house to suffer.</p> - -<p>Aline helped for a short time and then, leaving them for a moment -all cheerful and joking but working with a will, she looked into the -buttery, where she saw Thomas and Edward, the seneschal, a pompous but -good hearted fellow, merely talking and doing nothing.</p> - -<p>“You are not setting us a good example,” she said laughing; “everybody -else is working so hard,” and then she added in a tone that combined -something of jest, something of command and something of a coaxing -quality, “do try to keep things going; Master Richard would be much put -about if he failed in his hospitality.”</p> - -<p>This time there was undoubtedly a very gentle sting in the tone that -pricked Edward’s vanity; yet his own conscience smote him, so that he -bore no ill will.</p> - -<p>He said nothing, however, but Thomas remarked;—“Yes, Mistress Aline, -the sin of idleness is apt to get hold of us, we must to our work as -you say.”</p> - -<p>Aline raised her eyebrows slightly, the ill-bred vulgarity of the -remark was too much for her sensitive nature. Thomas was marked by -that lack of refinement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> that cheapens all that is noble and good by -ostentatious piety and sentimentality.</p> - -<p>Aline gave a little shiver and passed on to do the same with the -others. She also took her full share in the work, so that in fifteen -minutes everything was moving smoothly. It was done entirely out of -kindness, but Eleanor Mowbray felt that it was a triumph at her expense -and although Aline had helped her out of a difficulty, she only bore a -grudge against her.</p> - -<p>Thomas also was nettled. Aline had got the better of him; he suspected -her, too, of seeing through his hypocrisy; which, as a matter of fact, -she had only partially done, as she was so completely disgusted at his -vulgarity that she did not look further.</p> - -<p>It was not till the afternoon that the children had any opportunity to -pursue their own devices and they decided, as the day was fine and the -storm had cleared away, that they would go down to the river near-by -and see the waterfall before the water had had time greatly to abate.</p> - -<p>They did not go straight across the moor, but went by way of the small -hamlet of Holwick. Everything looked bright and green after the rain, -varied by the grey stone walls, that ran across the country, separating -the little holdings. The distance was brilliantly blue and the wide -spaciousness that characterises the great rolling moorland scenery was -enhanced by the beauty of the day.</p> - -<p>The children turned into the second cottage which was even humbler than -its neighbours. It was a long, low, thatched building, roughly built -of stone with clay instead of mortar. Within, a portion was divided -off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> at one end by a wooden partition. There was no window save one -small opening under the low eaves which was less than six feet from the -ground. It was about eight inches square and filled with a piece of -oiled canvas on a rudely made movable frame instead of glass. In warm -weather it often stood open.</p> - -<p>The children stumbled as they entered the dark room and crossed the -uneven floor of stamped earth. There was no movable furniture save -one or two wooden kists or chests, a dilapidated spinning wheel and a -couple of small stools. In the very middle of the floor was a fire of -peats on a flat slab of stone in the ground and a simple hole in the -roof allowed the choking smoke to escape after it had wandered round -the whole building.</p> - -<p>An old man, bent double with rheumatism, hastened forward as the -children came to the door and, holding out both his hands, shook -Audry’s and Aline’s at the same time. “I am right glad to see you,” he -said, “and may the Mother of God watch over you.”</p> - -<p>He quickly brought two stools and, carefully dusting them first, bade -his young visitors sit down by the fire.</p> - -<p>“How is Joan to-day, Peter,” asked Aline, “she isn’t out again is she?”</p> - -<p>“No, Mistress Aline, she has been worse the last few days and is in -bed, but maybe the brighter weather will soon see her out and about.”</p> - -<p>He hobbled over toward a corner of the cottage, where a box-bed stood -out from the wall. It was closed in all around like a great cupboard, -with sliding shutters in the front. These were drawn back, but the -interior was concealed by a curtain. He drew aside this curtain and -within lay a little girl about eleven years old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> with thin wasted -cheeks and hollow sunken eyes. She stretched out her small hand as the -two children approached and a smile lit up the white drawn face.</p> - -<p>Aline stooped and kissed her. “Oh, Joan,” she said, “I wish you would -get well, but it is always the same, no sooner are you up than you are -back in bed again. I have been asking Master Mowbray about you and he -has promised that the leech from Barnard Castle shall come and see you -as soon as he can get word to him.”</p> - -<p>“It is good of you to think and plan about me, Mistress Aline, and I -believe I am not quite so badly to-day, but I wish that horrid old -‘Moll o’ the graves’ would not come in here and look at me. She does -frighten me so. Mother was always so frightened of Moll.”</p> - -<p>“She is a wretched old thing,” said Audry, “but do not let us think -about her.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t thank us, anybody would do the same,” said Aline; “you -cannot think how sorry we are to see you like this, and you must just -call me Aline the same as I call you Joan. See! Audry and I have -brought you a few flowers and some little things from the Hall that old -Elspeth has put up for us, and when the leech comes, he will soon make -you well again.”</p> - -<p>“I sometimes wonder whether I shall ever get well any more; each time -I have to go back to bed I seem to be worse. All my folk are gone now -and I am the only one left. The flowers are right bonnie though and -the smell of them does me good,” she added, as she lifted the bunch of -early carnations that the children had brought.</p> - -<p>After she had spoken she let her hand fall and lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> quite still gazing -at the two as though even the few words had been too great an effort.</p> - -<p>The bed looked very uncomfortable and Aline and Audry did their best -to smooth it a little, after which Joan closed her eyes and seemed -inclined to sleep.</p> - -<p>“I wish we could get her up to the Hall,” said Aline in a whisper, “the -smoke is so terrible and I never saw such a dreadful place as that bed.”</p> - -<p>“Mother would never hear of it; so it’s no use your thinking of such a -thing.”</p> - -<p>They returned to the fire and sat down on the stools for a few moments -before leaving.</p> - -<p>“Ay, the child is about right,” said the old man, “her poor mother -brought her here from Kirkoswald when her man died last November. -Sarah Moulton was a sort of cousin of my wife who has been lying down -in Middleton churchyard this many a long year. She lived in this very -house as a girl and seemed to think she would be happier here than in -Kirkoswald. Well, it was not the end of March before she had gone too -and the lassie is all that is left.”</p> - -<p>The children bade farewell and went out. As they passed the end of the -house they saw the black figure of an old woman creeping round the back -as though not wishing to be seen.</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s that horrible old woman! ‘Moll o’ the graves,’” said -Audry; “let us run. I wonder what she has been doing listening round -the house; I hate her. You know, Aline, they say she does all manner -of dreadful things, that it was she who made all old Benjamin Darley’s -sheep die. Some people say she eats children and if she cannot get hold -of them alive she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> digs them up from their graves at night. I do not -believe it, but come along.”</p> - -<p>“No, I want to see what she is doing,” said Aline; “I am sure she is up -to no good. I believe that she has been spying outside waiting for us -to depart, so that she can go in.”</p> - -<p>“But you cannot prevent her,” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“We must prevent her,” said Aline; “she might frighten Joan to death.”</p> - -<p>Aline was right and the old woman came round from the other end of the -house and approached the cottage door. Aline at once advanced and stood -between the old woman and the door, while Audry followed and took up -her position beside Aline.</p> - -<p>“What do you want, mother?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“What business is that of yours?” said the old dame savagely; “you -clear away from that door or I will make it the worse for you.”</p> - -<p>She raised her stick as she spoke and glared at the children. It was -not her physical strength that frightened them, as they were two in -number, although she was armed with a stick, but something gruesome and -unearthly about her manner. Aline took a step forward so as half to -shelter Audry, but her breath came quickly and she was filled with an -unspeakable dread.</p> - -<p>“You must not go in there,” said the child firmly; “there is a little -girl within who is sick and she must not be disturbed.”</p> - -<p>“I shall do as I please and go in if I please,” she muttered, advancing -to the door and laying her hand on the latch.</p> - -<p>Aline at once seized her by the shoulders, saying, “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> may want your -help, Audry,” and gently but firmly turned her round and guided her -on to the road. Moll made no resistance, as she feared the publicity -of the road and moreover the girls were both strong and well built, -though of different types. Aline then stepped so as to face her, and -keeping one hand on her shoulder, she said, as she looked her full in -the eyes,—“go home, Moll, Joan is not well enough to see any one else -to-day,—go home.”</p> - -<p>The old woman’s eyes dropped; she was cowed; she felt herself in the -presence of something she had never met before, as she caught the fire -in those intense blue eyes. “I will never forgive you,” she snarled, -but she skulked down the road like a beaten dog.</p> - -<p>The children stood and watched her, feeling a little shaken after their -unpleasant experience.</p> - -<p>“What a good thing you were there,” said Audry. “I am sure she would -have frightened Joan terribly.”</p> - -<p>“Come, let us forget it,” and they raced down to the waterfall.</p> - -<p>It was a magnificent sight, one great seething mass of foam, -cream-white as it boiled over the cliff; while below, the dark brown -peat-coloured water swirled, mysteriously swift and deep, and rainbows -danced in the flying spray. They walked down the stream a little way -watching the rushing flood, when Aline suddenly cried out, “Audry, what -is that on the other side?”</p> - -<p>Just under the rock, partly concealed by the over-hanging foliage, -could be made out with some difficulty the form of a man. He was lying -quite still and although they watched for a long time he never moved at -all.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span></p> - -<p>“I wonder if he is hiding,” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“I am sure he is not,” said Aline. “It would be a very poor place to -hide, particularly when there are so many better ones quite close by. -He may be drowned.”</p> - -<p>“Possibly, but I think he is too high out of the water.”</p> - -<p>“Then perhaps he is only hurt; I wonder if there is anything that we -could do.”</p> - -<p>“We might go up to the Hall and get help,” Audry suggested.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Aline, doubtfully, as the thought crossed her mind that he -might be the poor stranger whom the country-side was hunting like a -beast of prey and although she could not explain her feelings she felt -too much pity to do anything that might help the hunters and therefore -it would not be wise to go to the Hall. It was partly the natural -gentleness of her nature and partly her instinctive abhorrence of the -vindictive way in which Mistress Mowbray had spoken on the previous -night.</p> - -<p>Then a shudder passed through her as she looked at the foaming torrent. -Any help that could be given must be through that. Aline was only -a child; but until she came to Holwick Hall she had lived entirely -with older people and realised as children rarely do the full horror -of death. It was so easy to stay where she was, she was not even -absolutely certain that the stranger was in any real danger. It was not -her concern. But Aline from long association with her brave father had -a measure of masculine physical courage that will even court danger -and that overcame her natural girlish timidity, and along with that -she had in unusual degree the true feminine courage that can suffer in -silence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> looking for no approval, no victory and no reward, the stuff -of which martyrs are made. “He is obviously unfortunate,” she said to -herself,—“Oh, if I could only help him, what does it matter about me, -and yet how beautiful the day is, the rainbows, the clear air, the -flowers and dear Audry; must I risk them all?”</p> - -<p>She was not sure, however, what line her cousin might take and -therefore did not like to express her thoughts aloud. On the other hand -she could do nothing without Audry, but she thought it best to keep her -own counsel and do as much as she could before Audry could possibly -hinder her. So she only said;—“But if we went for help to the Hall -it might be too late before any one came, if he is injured and still -alive.”</p> - -<p>At this moment both of them distinctly saw the figure move, and Aline -at once said, “Oh, we must help him at once. I am sure we should not be -in time if we went up to the Hall. We might find no one who could come -and there might be all manner of delays.”</p> - -<p>“But whatever can you do, Aline, he is on the other side?”</p> - -<p>“I shall try and swim across,” she said, after thinking a moment.</p> - -<p>“What, in all this flood! That is impossible.”</p> - -<p>“I think I could manage it, if I went a little lower down the river -where the torrent is not quite so bad.”</p> - -<p>“Aline, you will be killed; you must not think of it.”</p> - -<p>But Aline had already started down the bank to the spot that she had in -her mind. Audry ran after her, horror struck and yet unable to offer -further opposition.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said, “you are always astonishing me,” as Aline was taking -off her shoes; “you seem too timid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> and quiet, and here you are doing -what a man would not attempt.”</p> - -<p>“My father would have attempted it,” was all that Aline vouchsafed in -reply.</p> - -<p>She took off her surcoat, her coat-hardie and her hose, and then turned -and kissed Audry. “There is no one to care but you,” she said, “if I -never come back.”</p> - -<p>For a few moments the little slim figure stood looking at the black -whirling of the treacherous water, her dainty bare feet on the hard -rocks. Her white camise lifted and fluttered over her limbs like the -draperies of some Greek maiden, the sunlight flushing the delicate -texture of her skin, while her beautiful hair flew behind her in the -breeze. It was but a passing hesitation and then she plunged in and -headed diagonally up the river. She struck out hard and found that she -could make some progress from the shore although she was being swiftly -carried down the stream. If only she could reach the other side before -she was swept down to the rapids below, where she must inevitably be -smashed to pieces on the rocks! It was a terrible struggle and Audry -sat down on the bank and watched her, overcome by tears. “Oh, Aline, -little Aline,” she cried, “why did I ever let you go?” At last she -could bear to look no longer. Aline had drawn nearer and nearer to the -rapids, and although she was now close to the further bank there seemed -not the slightest hope of her getting through.</p> - -<p>She held on bravely, straining herself to the utmost, but it was no -use;—she was in the rapids when only a couple of yards from the -shore. Almost at once she struck a great rock, but, as it seemed by -a miracle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> although much bruised, she was carried over the smooth -water-worn surface and by a desperate movement that taxed her strength -to the uttermost, was able to force herself across it and the small -intervening space of broken water and scramble on to the shore.</p> - -<p>When Audry at length looked up, Aline was standing wringing the water -out of her dripping hair, shaken and bruised and cut in several places, -but alive. She took off the garment she had on and wrung it out before -putting it on again. She then paused for a moment not knowing what to -do. Blood was flowing freely from a deep cut below the right knee and -also from a wound on the back of her right shoulder. She hesitated to -tear her things for fear of the wrath of Mistress Mowbray, but at the -same time was frightened at the loss of blood. Finally she tore off -some strips of linen and bandaged herself as well as she could manage -and made her way to where the man was lying.</p> - -<p>Ian Menstrie had had a hard struggle. He had been working as a -carpenter in Paris and had fallen in with some of his exiled countrymen -and become for a time a servant to John Knox. It was three weeks -since he had left France with the important documents that he was -bearing from Knox and others; and only his iron determination had -carried him through. Time and again nothing but the utmost daring and -resourcefulness had enabled him to slip through his enemies’ hands. He -had actually been searched twice unsuccessfully before he was finally -arrested as a heretic at York. After extreme suffering he had escaped -again and the precious papers were still with him. He had reached Aske -Hall in Yorkshire, some twenty miles or so, over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> the hills, from -Holwick, the home of Elizabeth of Aske, mother of Margaret Bowes, whom -Knox had married, a lady with whom the reformer regularly corresponded.</p> - -<p>But almost at once he again had to give his pursuers the slip, and he -made his way up Teesdale with the precious papers still on him.</p> - -<p>Although they were hot on his trail he had managed to get through -Middleton in the night unobserved and would probably have reached the -hills and got away North, unseen; but he met a little four-year-old boy -on the road, who had fallen and hurt himself and was sitting in the -rain and crying bitterly. There was nothing serious about it, but the -child had a large bruise on his forehead. Ian had hesitated a moment, -looking apprehensively behind, but stopped and bathed the bruise at a -beck close by, comforted the child and carried him to his home and set -him down just outside the little garden.</p> - -<p>The delay, however, had cost him dear; the day was now fully up and -two or three people noticed the stranger as he left the road to try -and make for the steepest ground where pursuit would be less easy. -Shortly afterwards he had seen men in the distance, both on foot and -on horseback, setting out on his track and, with infinite difficulty, -availing himself of every hollow, at the risk of being seen at any -moment he had made his way to the river. If only he could get across, -he argued, he might consider himself tolerably safe. They would never -suspect that he was on that side and it was in any case the best -road to the North. He knew little of the country, of course, or that -there was a better place to attempt the feat lower down the stream. -He leaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> in where he found himself and being a strong swimmer he -made his way over but was sucked down by an eddy and dashed against -the cliff on the opposite side, but on coming to the surface again he -had just sufficient strength to get out of the water and crawl along -the ledge of rock to where the overhanging leaves afforded at least a -partial concealment. Indeed, the place was such an unlikely one that -anybody actually searching for him would probably have overlooked it.</p> - -<p>He had lain there for hours, the pain in his head being intense. One -ankle was badly sprained and much swollen and he felt sure that he -had broken his left collar bone. He had had nothing to eat for days -and the dizziness and the pain together caused him repeatedly to fall -into a fitful doze from which he would wake trembling, with his heart -beating violently. It was after one of these dozes that he woke and, -on opening his eyes, saw a little figure in white bending over him, -whose large dark blue eyes, filled with pity, were looking into his -face. Her long hair fell down so as to touch him and her beautiful arms -rested on the rock on either side of his head. At first he thought it -was a water-sprite with dripping locks, of which many tales were told -by the country folk, and then he noticed the blood oozing from below -the bandage on the little arm. “Who are you?” he asked at last, as his -senses gradually returned.</p> - -<p>“My name is Aline and I have come to help you,” she said.</p> - -<p>“But, sweet child, how can you do that?”</p> - -<p>As his brain became clearer he became more able to face the situation. -Who could this exquisite fairy-like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> little damsel possibly be, and -how could she ever have heard of him and why should any family that -wished to help him do it by the hands of any one so young? Then she was -wet and wounded, which made the case still more extraordinary. “Little -one,” he went on, “why have you come; do you know who I am?”</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, “but I saw you lying on the rock and so I came across -to try and do something for you.”</p> - -<p>“You do not mean to say that you swam that raging river?”</p> - -<p>“It was the only way to reach you.”</p> - -<p>“And you are really a little girl and not a water fay?” he asked half -playfully and half wondering if there really could be such things, as -so many people seriously believed. It was almost easier to believe in -fairies than to believe that a little girl had actually swum that flood.</p> - -<p>“Of course I am; you have hurt your head and are talking nonsense.”</p> - -<p>It seemed hard to tell her who he was; this charming little maiden -would then hate him like the rest. It was not that he thought that she -could possibly be of serious assistance to him; but it was a vision of -delight and there was a music in the sound of her voice that to the -exile reminded him of his own country. Yet he felt it was his duty and -indeed the child might be running great risks and get herself into -dire trouble even by speaking to him, so intense was the hatred of the -heretics.</p> - -<p>“Child, you must not help me. I am a heretic.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span></p> - -<p>“I guessed that you were,” she said, and the large eyes were full of -pity, “but somehow I feel that it is right to aid any one in distress.”</p> - -<p>“When you are older, little one, you will think differently. It is -only your sweet natural child-heart that instinctively sees the right -without prejudice or sophistry.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid that I do not understand you; but we must not stop talking -here, we must get you to a place of safety.”</p> - -<p>“Will your people help me?” he said, as a possible explanation occurred -to him. “Are they of the reformed faith?”</p> - -<p>“Are they heretics? you mean; no, indeed.” There was just the suspicion -of a touch of scorn in her voice; it was true that to her a heretic was -a member of a despised class, but there was also a slight, commingling -of bitterness that gave the ring to her words, and which he did not -detect, when she thought of the unreasoning and uncharitable prejudice -that Mistress Mowbray had shown the day before.</p> - -<p>“But that does not mean that I would not help you,” she went on. “See -this is what we must do. Somehow or other we must get back to the other -side and first I ought to bandage your head. Have you hurt yourself -anywhere else?” She looked him up and down as she spoke. “Oh, your -ankle is all swollen and bleeding where you have torn your hose; we -must try and do something for that.”</p> - -<p>“That can wait for the present,” he said, glancing apprehensively at -his shoes, which mercifully were still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> uninjured on his feet; “the -worst thing is that I think that I have broken my collar bone. But -before we do anything I must try and help you bandage your shoulder -more satisfactorily for it is bleeding very badly. That will not be -very easy,” he added, smiling, “as I have only one arm and you yourself -cannot reach it.”</p> - -<p>She let him try and between them they managed it somehow, and he -wondered again as he tenderly manipulated the bandage, how such a -little fragile thing could be undertaking such a strenuous task.</p> - -<p>“I have not time to explain,” said Aline, “but there is a secret -chamber in the Hall where you could be hidden, but we could not -possibly get you there until it is dark. There is, however, a hollow -tree on the other side where we sometimes play, in which you can sit -with your feet outside and they can be covered up with grass and -leaves. It is perhaps a little dangerous but I see no other way if your -life is to be saved. Can you bend your arm at all?” she went on. “Has -it any strength in it?”</p> - -<p>“It is practically useless,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“Well, somehow or other we have to swim back across that river; and it -is lucky that it is enormously easier from this side. The rapids set -towards this bank and on the other side there is a sort of backwater -opposite to where the rapids begin on this. We can also with very -little danger venture to start some twenty yards higher up than I did -when I was coming.”</p> - -<p>“But I do not think I could swim at all in that rush with only one -arm, and in any case you will have to go round; you must not dream of -attempting to swim that water again.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> - -<p>With all her gentleness there was something very queenly about Aline. -She lifted her head and said,—“We must both go and you must somehow -hold on to me and there is no more to be said.”</p> - -<p>He tried to dissuade her, but the little thing was adamant. He despised -himself for allowing a child to help him at all, but was almost as -under a spell. His will power under normal conditions was one of the -most remarkable things about him; but the pain of fatigue and the long -nervous strain had deprived him for the moment of his self-mastery. His -head was full of strange noises and he seemed as though he were in a -dream. At last he yielded, retaining just enough self-consciousness to -determine that he would let himself go, and drown, if he were too great -a drag on her. It was clear, as she said, that if she had already swum -the other way, there was little real risk for her alone. Moreover the -water was falling all the time and, even since she had come over, the -stream was slightly less.</p> - -<p>Before starting Aline looked round everywhere cautiously and then -called to Audry, who was watching on the other side, to have a long -branch ready to hold out to them. When Audry had obtained the branch -they entered the water. Although the pain was almost intolerable he -had decided to put his injured arm on her shoulder and it answered -beyond their expectations. He was a very strong swimmer and all that -it was necessary for Aline to do was to give the slight help necessary -to counteract the one-sided tendency and to improve the balance of the -forward part of the body, which otherwise would greatly have reduced -the speed. So well did they manage it that they even got across with -some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> ten yards to spare, being still further helped by Audry’s branch.</p> - -<p>They clambered up the bank, a task not easy of accomplishment, and took -Ian Menstrie at once to the tree which was close by. Aline put on her -clothes, taking the remains of her linen shift for bandages. Luckily -she had on several occasions in her father’s house helped to nurse -the injured and knew how to bind the collar bone and make as good a -piece of work of the ankle as the extemporised bandages would allow. -Then bidding him good-bye the children hurried back to the Hall. Aline -longed to take him food but decided that, sad as it was, it would be -better to run no risks whatever. Moreover, she wanted to discover the -passage under the moat and there was none too long before the evening -meal.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="iv" id="iv"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> -<small>THE PRISONER</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>S they walked rapidly back, their tongues moved faster than their feet.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ve beaten Burd Aline,” said Audry, laughing; “you’ve rescued -your knight before you even know his name. But I’m quite sure it’s -all the wrong way round;—the knight should rescue his lady. Besides, -what’s the good of a man in homespun; you need some grand person; you -do not know how to do these things, my lady. I wonder who he is.”</p> - -<p>“He’s Scots anyway; one can tell that from his accent.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you think a Scots peasant better than an English gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“I will not be denying it,” laughed Aline.</p> - -<p>“Oh! then yours shall be a peasant-knight, you always choose things -different from other people. But I like his face, it looks strong.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I am afraid he has had a terrible time,” said Aline; “how sad -those deep-set eyes are; but they seem determined.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you like his mouth and chin? It’s a strong chin and I like those -well-shaped sensitive lips.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I think the eyes are more striking.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no good, though, having a knight at all, certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> not a -peasant-knight,” said Audry roguishly, “unless he has nice lips.”</p> - -<p>Aline smiled. “You’re getting frivolous. Now be serious, we have a -great deal to do.”</p> - -<p>They reached the Hall, ran up to their bedroom and before they started -on their further explorations Aline took out the book so as to be -prepared for emergencies. She read on for some time and discovered -several things, one was the way to open the trap door that led into -the cave and especially the way that it could be made to open from -the outside if the inner bolts were not fastened. Another important -discovery was that the door of their room could be locked by an -ingenious bolt in the secret stairway, that pushed back from the -bolt-hole into the lock itself. This enabled any one to leave the room -unlocked when away, so as to excite no suspicion. Yet on returning, -after seeing that the room was empty, by peering through a small -slit, one could, by locking the door, make sure that one would not be -caught by any one entering the room at the same moment. The children -again made their way down the stairs to the secret room where they -paused a few moments to look at things for which there was not time -on the previous occasion. There were several cupboards, one of which -had stone shelves and was clearly intended for a larder. There was -amongst other things a large iron chest, which did not seem to have any -lock and which greatly excited their curiosity. In another chest they -found several pistols and swords besides a few foils and some fencing -masks. There were also some tools and some rope and a whole wardrobe of -clothes of many kinds. Most of the things were very old but a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> -number were comparatively recent. At the same time there was nothing to -indicate that the room had been used for the last twenty years.</p> - -<p>“Come, we must not stay looking at these things, however interesting,” -said Aline; “we must be getting on. But I am glad there is a nice -place to keep food; only we shall have a great difficulty in getting a -supply.”</p> - -<p>She opened a little door as she spoke and once more they found -themselves in a narrow passage that led down a flight of steps. It -turned abruptly to the right at the bottom of the steps and then went -absolutely straight for what seemed to them an interminable length. -It was only the thought of the wounded man that prevented them from -turning back. There was a little drain at the bottom of the passage -and the whole sloped slightly so that the water that percolated freely -through the walls was carried off.</p> - -<p>At last they reached the end, where the passage terminated in a short -flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a basin hollowed in -the rock and this was fed by a spring of delicious water. They went -up these and found a curious door made of stone. It was fastened with -huge wooden bolts, a precaution, as they afterwards guessed, against -rust. They passed through and discovered that the other side of the -door was quite irregular and rough and the chamber in which they -found themselves, if chamber it could be called, was like a natural -cave. In the middle of the rocky floor was a great stone. Even this -looked natural although they found that, as the book had said, it was -so cunningly shaped and balanced that it would swing into a vertical -position without much effort and allow of a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> dropping through on -one side of it. But the clever part of it was,—that what looked like -accidental breaks in the stone were so arranged that certain other -blocks could be fitted into them and the surrounding rock so that it -could not be moved. If then by any accident any one should make his way -into the chamber he would only think that he had come into a natural -cave. Audry let herself down through the hole and with the help of -Aline dropped to the ground, and found herself in a small fissure or -cave, more or less blocked by underwood, where the stream ran through -a little hollow or gully. She succeeded in getting back after making -several unsuccessful attempts.</p> - -<p>“It is an excellent place,” said Audry, “but however shall we get him -through that passage, it is so very narrow and so terribly long.”</p> - -<p>“We might even have to leave him in the cave room to-night,” Aline -replied, “but I think it would be a good idea to count our steps on the -way back. It will be interesting to know how long it is, and we shall -also be able to tell in future how far we are at any moment from the -end.”</p> - -<p>This they did and found that it was 1100 paces, which they reckoned -would be as nearly as possible half a mile. Before they entered their -bedroom again they experimented with the secret bolt that fastened the -door, which acted perfectly, although, like everything else, they found -that it would be the better for a little oil.</p> - -<p>It seemed a long evening, but at last it was time to go to bed. The -children went upstairs and waited impatiently until they were quite -sure that every one was asleep. They had managed to secrete a little -food to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> take with them and also a few pieces of firewood, and put a -little more in the secret room as they made their way out. They had -already begun to get somewhat used to the stair and found even the long -secret passage less alarming. It was a clear night although there was -no moon, and they made their way without difficulty to the hollow tree. -They found Ian Menstrie stiff with cold and in great pain, but his -senses almost preternaturally alert.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad you have come,” he said. “I thought that something had -prevented you and was wondering whether I could live here till the -morning.”</p> - -<p>Ian’s nature was a combination of strength and tenderness and was as -likely to be exercising its force in protecting or shielding as in -attacking. He had resolutely carried on the work that he felt to be -his duty in spite of the most terrible risks and, when he had finally -been captured and concluded that it was equally his duty to escape, -he had carried out his plans with a ruthless determination; but, in -the presence of these children, only the extreme tenderness of his -character was called into play.</p> - -<p>He looked at the two small figures and, in spite of his terrible -plight, his heart smote him that they should be wandering about at -night instead of getting their rest, and particularly Aline, who had -been through so much already.</p> - -<p>“It is good of you to come, and oh, I do hope that you will take no -harm. How are you feeling, little one?” he asked, addressing Aline.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am all right,” she said brightly, for she did not wish him or -Audry to know how her arm pained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> her, and indeed the excitement was -in a way keeping her up. “It is you who are to be asked after; we have -brought you a little to eat now and there will be something else when -we get to the secret room.”</p> - -<p>It was a painful journey. Ian set his teeth and tried to make the best -of it and lean on his small guides as little as possible, but he was -at the last gasp and he was a heavy burden. Luckily he had a naturally -strong constitution and forced it to do its work by the exceptional -strength of his will or he would have succumbed altogether. But he -felt that what he had been through in the last two weeks had weakened -his mental power and was glad that there was a chance for at least a -respite before he would be called upon to face his tormentors again. -In his present condition he felt that he could not answer for himself -and the thought was too terrible. Supposing that they should put him on -the rack once more and that he should deny his faith! Perhaps for the -present at least he was to be spared this.</p> - -<p>They very slowly made their way along the bed of the stream and -eventually reached the cave. Aline helped Audry up through the trap -door first, and then the children just succeeded in getting the injured -man through, for he was becoming less and less able to help himself. -Then began the long weary passage.</p> - -<p>It was an exhausting process and Ian Menstrie seemed to be settling -into a sort of stupor. They had gone about 700 paces when he fell right -down. “I will be going on in a minute,” he answered. So they waited a -moment or two and then asked him if he was ready. “Oh, I am coming in a -minute,” he said once more. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> waited again for a time but when they -roused him, each time it was the same reply. “Oh, yes, certainly, I am -coming just in a moment.” Finally there was nothing to be done but half -carry him and half drag him along.</p> - -<p>“I wish we had put him in the cave to-night,” exclaimed Audry.</p> - -<p>“But we should never have got enough things there to make him -comfortable,” said Aline. “I think we are really doing what is best and -it will not be long now before we are there.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s shoulder was excruciating, and she knew that it was bleeding -again. Her other cut had also opened with the strain, and every limb -in her little body ached as it had never done in her life. “I must be -brave,” she said to herself; “what would father have done if he had -been here?” The cold sweat stood on her brow but she never uttered a -murmur and was anxious that Audry, who was fairly worn out herself, -should not know how bad she was feeling. The last 50 yards she -accomplished in intense agony and her thankfulness to reach the chamber -was inexpressible.</p> - -<p>They lit the fire and laid Menstrie on the bed. Then they gave him some -water which seemed to revive him a good deal and he was able to thank -them and to take food.</p> - -<p>When he seemed to have come to himself Aline sat down on a chair. She -leaned back and commenced to shiver, her teeth chattered till her -whole frame shook. The others were frightened; it was clear that she -was suffering from collapse. Luckily there was a fair supply of wood, -as there had been several large pieces in the room when the children -discovered it, and they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> brought a quantity of small stuff. -So there was soon a roaring fire and they were able to give Aline -something hot to drink. Ian in spite of his own injuries did all that -he could. They managed to shift the oak bed a little nearer to the -fire and warmed blankets and wrapped Aline in them and laid her on the -bed. Gradually the shivering passed away, but she lay there looking -very white and shaken, with great black rings round her eyes, as if -they had been bruised. Her wounds caused her considerable pain. Audry, -who was a sweet hearted child but without the imaginative sympathy and -intense self-sacrifice of her little cousin, toiled up the stairs and -brought down some fresh linen. They then gently washed the wounds and -put clean oil upon them, Ian cursing himself all the while because of -his helplessness with his single hand, but able from many fighting -experiences to direct Audry in the manipulation of the bandages.</p> - -<p>“Is that more comfortable?” he asked when they had finished.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said smiling, “I feel ever so much better and I think that I -could go to sleep.”</p> - -<p>Audry then assisted Ian to bandage his ankle, and under his directions -also saw that the broken bone was all right. He then lay down on the -bed and Audry curled herself in a great chair and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>For Ian sleep was out of the question; and he lay there watching the -firelight dancing on the faces of the slumbering children, the one -beautiful with a robust health and well cut features and strongly built -limbs, finely proportioned throughout; the other beautiful entirely -beyond any ordinary beauty, with an extreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> delicacy and subtlety -in every line of her face as he had already noticed in her figure, -yet never even suggesting the least touch of weakness. He had never -seen such hair, which seemed to cover the bed. Its rich deep colour -glowed with an extraordinary lustre and he noticed that her skin, -unlike that of most people with red hair, was absolutely clear and -marked by a strange translucent quality that was unique. One small -arm was lying out on the coverlet with the sleeve tucked up. He had -not realised before that a child’s arm could show so much variety of -form and modelled surface and yet retain the essential slenderness and -daintiness of childhood. She might well have been some fairy princess -sleeping among the flowers.</p> - -<p>Aline’s beauty undoubtedly had about it something supernatural. It was -all in keeping with her manner and character. There was an atmosphere -of another world about her of which every one who met her sooner or -later became aware. It could not be put into words and could not be -analysed. In a sense it was unnatural, but so far from repelling any -one it had about it a mysterious, almost magical fascination that was -irresistible.</p> - -<p>Only the basest natures failed to be drawn by it, and even in their -cases it was not that they did not feel it, but that they consciously -withstood it as a power with which their whole nature was at variance.</p> - -<p>Ian was devoutly glad that she was no worse and offered up a prayer -of thankfulness that she was at least safe. As he looked at her he -recalled her soft, not very pronounced, musical Scots accent, and -his thoughts turned to the land of his birth. Her face too!—why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> -had he not noticed it before, how strangely like it was in certain -aspects to the face of his dreams, that still followed him wherever -he went, although he had not seen it for thirteen years? He had, -however, reluctantly to admit that this mere child’s face was even more -beautiful. After all she too had really been only a child, although -rather more than a couple of years older than himself, when he had -worshipped her with all the fervour of a boy’s adoration and had -suddenly lost sight of her when her parents had unexpectedly taken her -away to be married. But the face had lived with him day and night, and -no other face had ever come between him and his vision. Nor had the -discovery long afterward,—that she had died soon after her child was -born, ever inclined him to look elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Aline moaned slightly and moved her head uneasily as though not quite -comfortable. He smoothed the pillow for her and registered a vow that -he would do all that he could to serve her, not only in return for what -she had done for him, but for the sake of the chance resemblance to -that one who had gone and who through all these years had meant so much -to him.</p> - -<p>And yet who was he to serve or to help any one?—a wanderer with a -price upon his head; and he began to turn over the events of the last -few years in his mind. All had promised so well with him and yet -everything had been adverse. He had early distinguished himself both -for his learning and his military skill, which drew down upon him the -envy of his brothers, particularly the eldest, when, as a mere boy, he -was one of the few who distinguished himself in the unfortunate battle -of Pinkey Cleugh and he had looked forward to some recognition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> or -advancement, but the jealousy of his brothers had made that impossible. -Then he had fallen under the influence of George Wishart<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10" href="#Footnote_10_10" class="footnote">[10]</a> and -incurred the undying anger of his father, and so great was the enmity -of the family that finally he fled the country, first to England and -afterwards, at Mary’s accession, to France and then to Italy, where he -spent some years and followed first the calling of a smith. There he -not only learned about the making of arms but acquired a considerable -facility in the new art of <a name="swordsmanship" id="swordsmanship"></a><ins title="Original has 'swordmanship'">swordsmanship</ins> as practised -in Italy. Nor were his fingers idle in other ways; he executed designs -first in metalwork and then in wood and other materials and became -an accomplished draughtsman besides exhibiting great creative power. -He might even have become one of the world’s great artists had not -circumstances directed his energies into other fields.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10" href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="anchor">10</span></a> The great Scottish reformer and martyr.</p></div> - -<p>It was his brothers he knew who were behind his present trouble and it -cut him to the quick. He had no enmity to them. It was not his fault -that they had not distinguished themselves. For the sake of friendship -he would willingly have obliterated his achievements and have given up -everything to them; but of course that could not be, yet they would -not forget. He had been for the last month in prison and strong as he -undoubtedly still was, it was nothing to what he had been. Many a time -had his slight wiry frame astonished his comrades by its extraordinary -powers of endurance.</p> - -<p>He was lightly built and excellently proportioned, with rather broad -shoulders that particularly suited the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> costume of the day. He had -on more than one occasion sat for artists in Italy, including Paolo -Veronese himself, because of the exceptional beauty of his figure.</p> - -<p>His escape had been almost a miracle, as he had no friends in the -country and he had to think and carry on everything himself; he had -been nearly caught again twice and he had shuddered as he thought of -the fate of George Wishart whom he had himself seen strangled and burnt -at the stake. It was true that for the moment he was safe, but for how -long? He looked at the beautiful child and shuddered again. Suppose -he should in any way implicate her. The priests would have no more -pity upon her than upon himself. No, that he would not do. He would -die rather than that. Would it not be best for him to go away at once -rather than be a possible cause of injury to anything so gentle and -brave and fair?</p> - -<p>He rose up as the thought came to him; yes, he would go away; it should -never be said that he had brought calamity upon a child. He stumbled -across the floor and made his way down to the passage, but he had not -realised how weak he was. Hitherto he had been buoyed up by excitement; -now that that was over the pain was more than he could stand and he -fainted and fell heavily to the ground.</p> - -<p>When he again came to, he realised the impossibility of his getting -away down the long passage, and he also began to wonder whether after -all he might not be of more use if he stayed. He did not as yet know -who the child was; it was clear that she was Scots and did not belong -to the family of Holwick Hall; perhaps in the workings of Providence he -had been sent there to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> be of some use to her. He could at least wait -and find out a few things and then see what was best to be done. So he -crawled back to the room again and waited for the morning.</p> - -<p>To while away the time he took off his shoes to see that they were all -right.</p> - -<p>They were peculiarly made, with false inner soles of many thicknesses -of parchment, covered with oil silk and several layers of paint.</p> - -<p>These were the precious documents that had been purposely written in -that shape. The false soles were secured by stout canvas and thin -leather covers which formed part of the shoes. They could not be taken -out without cutting the shoes to pieces.</p> - -<p>As far as he could see they seemed to have sustained no damage in spite -of the wetting.</p> - -<p>There were three minute slits or peepholes in the corners and middle -of the room. These were evidently intended as lookout places and were -covered with small sliding shutters which he opened. The night seemed -almost interminable, but at length the dawn began to break. He waited -as long as he dared and then woke Audry.</p> - -<p>“Where am I?” she exclaimed; “oh, I remember. How are you and how is -Aline?” She rose as she spoke and went towards the sleeping figure. “I -suppose we ought to wake her,—Aline, dear, wake up.”</p> - -<p>Aline opened her eyes and gradually roused herself. She was certainly -better than on the previous night, but still obviously very ill. -However, there was nothing to be done but to get her upstairs somehow, -and then there was no alternative but to leave her in bed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span></p> - -<p>The children looked at each other. “Whatever shall we say?” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“We must not say what is not true,” answered Aline.</p> - -<p>“No, but we cannot tell them everything.”</p> - -<p>“It is very difficult.”</p> - -<p>“Could you not say that you fell on a rock, Aline?”</p> - -<p>“That is not what I mean is difficult.”</p> - -<p>“I do not understand.”</p> - -<p>“I mean it is difficult to know how to speak the truth. Even if we do -not say what is untrue we let them think wrongly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we cannot help that, Aline.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know, it seems to me that it comes to the same thing as if we -told them a falsehood.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, bother them; if they ask no questions they will get told no -stories.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s mind was not satisfied; but, after all their calamities, -fortune now favoured the children. There came a knock at the door -and Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, came in. “You are rather late this -morning,” she said, and then she noticed that Aline was still in bed, -“and one of you not up. Marry now, but it is a good thing for you -that Mistress Mowbray has other things to think of this morning. She -has just received an urgent letter from her sister at Appleby to say -that she has been taken sick, and will she come over without delay. -The serving man that brought the letter has only just now returned -homeward.”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with Aunt Ann?” asked Audry.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is nothing to fret yourself about, hinnie,” the old woman went -on, “but such an upset and turmoil in the house you never saw. Mistress -Mowbray is carrying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> he were to be staying there the rest of her life; -and Appleby only those few miles away too. Well, I must hurry away; I -have more to do than I can manage.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nurse, can Aline stay in bed this morning? She is not very well; -she hurt herself a little yesterday. I will bring up her breakfast; it -is nothing serious.”</p> - -<p>“All right, dearie,—it’s nothing serious?” she repeated as she heard -Mistress Mowbray’s voice calling angrily from the bottom of the stairs. -“I am glad of that, but I must go,” and she departed.</p> - -<p>Aline had kept her face away so that Elspeth should not see how ill she -looked. The children were much relieved when they heard the footsteps -die away.</p> - -<p>In a way Aline’s illness even helped them, as it enabled Audry to take -up food without suspicion, and it was thus possible, owing to the -general confusion in the house, to lay in a small supply for the other -invalid below.</p> - -<p>The next morning Aline was considerably better, having the marvellous -recuperative power of childhood, but it was clear that she would not be -herself for some time.</p> - -<p>“You do look a sight, you know,” said Audry, throwing her arms round -her neck. “Your eyelids and all round the eyes up to the eyebrow are -still black. Whatever shall we do now, because nurse will certainly -come up to-day?”</p> - -<p>“She is a dear old thing and you can always get round her. I shall get -up and go down and stand with my back to the light and keep my head -low, and hope that no one will notice; then you must get nurse to let -us have a holiday and take our dinner with us on to the hills.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> We -can stay away till it is dark and then no one will see. I am ever so -much better to-day and shall be all right to-morrow. We need only go a -little way and it is a beautiful day, and I can lie in the sunshine. -I wonder how poor Master Menstrie is,” she went on. “I am afraid that -he will take a great deal longer to get well than I shall. You will of -course look after him.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s plan succeeded beyond expectation. Master Mowbray was in a -hurry, as he wanted to ride over to Appleby for a few days and Nurse -was busy with preparations. So Aline spent the long summer days on -the moors watching the great white clouds roll over the hills and -thinking of all that had happened in the last few days and the new -responsibilities that had fallen upon her. It was clear that it would -be a difficult matter to feed their guest, particularly as she was -determined not to take food from the house. Perhaps it was true as -Audry said, that people had no right to demand answers to any question -that they might choose to ask; but certainly that did not justify one -in taking what did not belong to one. She was just at the age when -the intelligence begins to arouse itself and face the great problems -of life and this was only one of the questions that stirred her young -mind. There was also the matter of the heretics and again Audry had in -her frank direct way supplied the answer of fair play and common sense.</p> - -<p>Aline made up her mind that she would ask Master Menstrie about some of -these things; at least, as Audry had said, there could be no harm in -hearing both sides and she must judge for herself.</p> - -<p>Audry went back after a while to see Master Menstrie; and Aline, when -she had been out on the moor for a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> time, returned to the Hall as -the afternoon sun was getting low. Before going in, she sat down by the -moat and looked across at the grey pile. The water seemed to be shallow -at that point as though the bank had slipped in and yellow irises were -growing at the edge.</p> - -<p>Although the bulk of the building was little more than a hundred -years old, except the early pele tower that had been built into the -structure, time had laid its fingers upon it and it looked very mellow -in the afternoon sun. The stone shingles of the roof were covered -with golden lichen, while, behind the parapet of the little old -tower, a piece of ivy had taken root and hung down through one of the -crenellations trailing a splash of green over the grey wall. There was -a stern beauty about it and the long line of narrow oilettes in the -granary added to the somewhat fortress-like appearance.</p> - -<p>As she sat there she saw a small figure approaching; it was Joan.</p> - -<p>Aline beckoned to her and she came up shyly and Aline drew her down -to a seat at her side. “I am so glad to see you out again, Joan; I do -hope this is going to be a real lasting improvement,” she said, taking -a little wasted hand in one of her own and putting the fingers of her -other hand round the small wrist. “Why, there’s nothing there at all,” -she went on, blowing at the hand and letting it fall; “see how easily I -can blow it away; why, if I blew hard I should blow it off. You must be -quick and get stronger.”</p> - -<p>The little maid shook her head sadly.</p> - -<p>“And you mustn’t look so doleful either,” and Aline kissed her in the -corner of each eye which made Joan laugh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> - -<p>“There, that’s better; now you must forget yourself and I will tell you -a story.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Audry appeared on the scene. “Well, you are a pair, you -two,” she said, with a kindly sparkle in her merry brown eyes; “you -could not raise a spot of colour between you; but, Joan, it’s good to -see you out at all, in spite of your pale cheeks. How are you and what -did Master Barlow say?”</p> - -<p>“I do not think he knew what was the matter; but he said that I ought -to go away and see if other surroundings would help me. He was a kind -old man.”</p> - -<p>“We must see what we can do, Joan, when Master Mowbray comes back from -Appleby.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think it is good for either of you to be out in the evening -air,” said Audry. “Come along in, Aline.”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with her, Mistress Audry?” said Joan.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing,” said Aline; “I shall be all right to-morrow, but I must -obey this tyrannous lady; good-bye, Joan.”</p> - -<p>Audry had had difficulties with her patient. Menstrie so far from -improving grew distinctly worse. His head was causing him great pain -and the want of sleep made him a wreck. She had no scruples about the -food like Aline, maintaining in her blunt way that it was the duty of -the house to be kind to the stranger and that, if the other people did -not do their duty, then she must do it for them whatever it involved. -But she was very glad that Aline had so much improved after a few days -as to be able to come and see the invalid with her.</p> - -<p>He was obviously in a high fever and was gradually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> getting delirious. -The old nurse took very little notice of them while her mistress was -away and they would slip out on to the moors and make their way back -to the secret room by the underground passage. As Aline grew strong -Ian’s illness laid a greater and greater hold upon him. Aline insisted -in sitting up with him the greater part of the night. There was not -a great deal that she could do; but she prepared a concoction from -a little yellow flowered plant that grew upon the moor and that was -deemed good for fevers and administered this at regular intervals.</p> - -<p>He spoke but rarely, but his eyes would follow her wherever she went. -When his head was exceptionally bad he would complain of the burning -and she would place wet cloths on his brow, or in fits of shivering she -would do all that she could to keep him warm.</p> - -<p>At length he seemed to take a distinct turn for the better. One night -after a violent perspiration she was trying to change the bedclothes -and make him more comfortable when he spoke to her quite clearly and -in a voice unlike the almost incoherent ramblings of the last few -days,—“What a wonderful little angel you are,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I could not do less,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“I see no reason why you should do anything at all; how long have you -been tending me like this?”</p> - -<p>“Audry has been attending you a great part of the time.”</p> - -<p>“Then I have been ill for a long while.”</p> - -<p>“Some little while,” she said, “but you are better now; I have been so -frightened that you would never get well any more.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p> - -<p>“But that would not matter to you.”</p> - -<p>Aline laughed,—“Why then I should have had all my trouble for nothing.”</p> - -<p>“But it would have been simpler to have taken no trouble at all.”</p> - -<p>“Simpler, but how dull; do you know this is the most exciting thing -that has ever happened to me?”</p> - -<p>“A poor kind of excitement,” he said; “why, you are looking very ill -yourself; do not people notice it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, they say, ‘You are a little scarecrow.’”</p> - -<p>“Who say?”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Mowbray, she has come home again to-day.”</p> - -<p>“I did not know that she had gone away, but is that all that she says; -does she not suggest doing anything?”</p> - -<p>“Marry no, she only said, ‘Child, you have been eating too many good -things while I am away; you must not get ill; I have a great deal of -work for you to do. To-morrow you have to work hard after all this time -of idleness.’ Now you must not talk any more; it is a great thing to -hear you talk properly at all, and it would be foolish to let you make -yourself ill again.”</p> - -<p>He wanted her to go on; but again he saw that firm determined look in -her manner that he had noticed before and knew that it would be useless -to try and move her. “Well, little princess,” he said, “if those are -your commands I suppose that they must be obeyed.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, sirrah, it is time that you went to sleep.”</p> - -<p>It was fortunate for the children that Menstrie’s illness took a turn -for the better when it did, for it would have been impossible for them -to give him much time after Mistress Mowbray’s return. But it was clear -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> it would be a long time before he would be able to get about.</p> - -<p>They both came in on the following night and found that while there -was no doubt about the improvement, he was miserably weak and ill. -Aline tried to prevent him from talking, but he was anxious to hear how -things had gone with them. “Well, what have you been doing all day?” he -said.</p> - -<p>“We have been hemming great holland sheets,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Well, that is not very exciting,” he said.</p> - -<p>“More exciting perhaps than you think,” said Audry. “Mother was very -cross, and Aline certainly had an exciting time.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Audry,” said Aline very softly.</p> - -<p>“I shall not hush, Aline. I wish that mother would not act like that to -you. Do you know,” she went on, “that whenever Aline made the stitches -just the least little bit too big or turned down the hem the least bit -too much or too little, she hit her. Aline, if I were you I would not -stand it; I would tell my father.”</p> - -<p>Ian half rose in his bed with anger and then fell back again. “There -you see what you have done,” said Aline, as Ian went as white as the -sheet. It was some moments before he was able to speak and the children -watched him anxiously.</p> - -<p>“What a shame,” he went on, in calmer tones.</p> - -<p>“Well, we won’t talk about that now,” said Aline; “let us talk of -something nicer. Master Mowbray is going to give me a falcon and I am -going to ride like Audry.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span></p> - -<p>“I thought that I heard you say that you did not care about riding, -little one,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I do not know that I do particularly, but Master Mowbray wished it -for the sake of Audry. I do not think he cared about me one way or the -other. I thought that it might help us in several ways in feeding you.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I do not quite see that,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Well, for one thing, the falcon would have to be fed and sometimes -there would be things that I could give to you and I could get other -things for the falcon instead. I do not like taking things from the -house, and that is why I have tried as far as possible to snare you -rabbits or catch fish in the river. So far we have done very well, but -it is meal or bread that is the chief difficulty.”</p> - -<p>“And do you think the falcon or the horse is going to get the bread?” -he asked playfully.</p> - -<p>“If you were not ill,” she said, shaking her little hand at him, “I -would punish you.”</p> - -<p>He caught the hand and kissed it. “Well, never mind, but I do not see -how either the horse or the falcon is going to help you.”</p> - -<p>“It is this way. If we go riding it will be a reason for going -expeditions, and then we can make it an excuse to buy food. If I were -to go and buy food round about here, there would be all manner of -questions asked at once.”</p> - -<p>“But, child, you have not any money, and if you had it would not be -right to spend it on me.”</p> - -<p>“But I have some; I have five pounds Scots that my father gave me long -ago that I have been keeping in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> safe place, and I have six florins -that have been given me by other people.”</p> - -<p>“You never told me that you were so rich,” said Audry. “Why, think what -you could buy for all that!”</p> - -<p>“Can you get down my jerkin, Audry?” asked Ian,—“Thank you! See if -you can find in the inner pocket a leathern purse?—That’s right, now -in that you will find ten gold rose angels. Take out two of them and -let me know all that is spent on my account. I would not hear of you -spending money on me.”</p> - -<p>Aline demurred, but Menstrie would brook no opposition. So there was -nothing to be done but take the money. After the children had gone Ian -began to consider his new responsibilities. He already began to feel -that Aline was in some way his special care. He had a peculiar power -of seeing both sides of things and realised that there was always -something to be said for each. But this never paralysed his action -as it does with many. He remembered the Athenian view of the sin of -neutrality and that the first duty is to make up one’s mind.</p> - -<p>In action he was usually able to find a line not neutral, that is to -say neither, but one that stood firmly and decisively for something -even beyond the best of both and this he would carry through at all -costs. He found this all the easier as his personality, his resolution -and clear explanations made him a born leader and he generally -compelled others to take his higher point of view. But this could not -always be the case and then he would take the side that on the whole -was the better. He had thrown in his lot with the protestant party, -not by any means because he entirely agreed with them,—he often told -them they were no better than those they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> opposed,—but he definitely -saw more prospect of progress in that direction. He had an iron will, -that is absolute self-control and the determined capacity that no -difficulties, no obstacles and no suffering could cause to swerve. -He was entirely free from the weakness of obstinacy, or of pleasing -himself.</p> - -<p>In more personal matters it was the same. At the present there were the -claims of his country, the claims of his faith and the claims of this -child. He loved children and nothing stirred him so much as to see a -child illtreated.</p> - -<p>How were these claims to be met? After all, were they so conflicting? -The only real problem was that Aline was in England, while his other -duties lay in Scotland. Clearly he must get her to Scotland. In whose -charge to place her, he could arrange later. That much then was settled.</p> - -<p>As he thought this, he distinctly heard a voice say,—“No, it is not.” -He looked behind, but saw no one. The voice continued,—“She will -become a heretic and then...?”</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” he cried, sitting up in bed. There was silence and he -heard no more, only he fancied he saw Wishart again in the fire and -Aline was along with him. “I am overwrought,” he muttered; “that is -impossible anyway, as poor Wishart died long ago. No, Aline,” he went -on, “as long as my life can stay it, such shall never be,—never. Where -there’s a will, there’s a way.”</p> - -<p>He leaned back exhausted and soon fell into a troubled sleep. He -remembered nothing when he woke, but found the sheet torn to shreds, as -though he had fought some malign enemy.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="v" id="v"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> -<small>THE THIEF</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">N</span>OT many days after, Aline went down to Peter’s cottage. Joan had again -had a relapse and the physician had paid one or two visits. For the -moment she was better and sitting up in bed.</p> - -<p>Aline had brought some beautiful roses whose fragrance filled the whole -place. Joan’s eyes quite sparkled with pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mistress Aline, how lovely!”</p> - -<p>“I said you were to call me Aline, just as I call you Joan,” and Aline -kissed the little thin hand that seemed almost transparent. “Now you -must soon get well and be able to come and play games again; and see -what I brought you to wear when you can run about.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s own wardrobe was very scanty, but one day Master Richard had -brought back from York a piece of good camlet which he had given to -Aline as a special present. “May I do just what I like with it?” she -had asked. “Of course,” he replied. So Aline had coaxed Elspeth to help -her, and, with much excitement, had made Joan an attractive little -gown. Aline was rather at a loss for some trimming that she wanted and -Audry had found her one day taking some off one of her own garments. -She had expostulated but Aline had only said,—“Oh, it looks all right; -I have left some on the upper part. I do not mind plain things.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span></p> - -<p>Joan’s gratitude was too great for words; she could only gently squeeze -Aline’s hand.</p> - -<p>As Aline sat by the bedside the door opened and a dark bent figure -appeared against the light.</p> - -<p>“Good-day, Peter,” she said, and catching sight of Aline she added, -“and good-day to you, Mistress.”</p> - -<p>Moll had once been a fairly tall woman, but like Peter was now bent, -although not to so great an extent and was never seen without her -stick. Her face, wrinkled and worn as it was, more from evil living -than from actual age, as she was not really very old, still had some -trace of its original beauty, but there was a cruelty and cunning -in its expression that defied description. All the children were -frightened of “Moll o’ the graves” and would flee at her approach.</p> - -<p>“You have a sick bairn here, Peter,” she began, ignoring Aline, “and I -have been wondering whether I could not help you.”</p> - -<p>Peter looked as if the last thing in the world that he desired was old -Moll’s help.</p> - -<p>“You have something laid by under this stone,” she went on, tapping the -hearth with her stick as she spoke; and Peter’s eyes seemed as if they -would drop out of his head.</p> - -<p>“Ah, you need not think to keep anything from me,” said the old crone; -and suddenly turning round, she pointed her stick at Aline, “nor you, -young Mistress, you have your secret that you wish no one to know,” she -added vindictively.</p> - -<p>It might have been merely a bow drawn at a venture, yet Aline felt -absolutely terrified of the old woman and meditated running from the -house, but the thought of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> Joan held her back. “No, and you need not -think you can get away either,” said Moll, as though reading her -thoughts. “You are by yourself this time,” and she interposed her gaunt -figure between Aline and the door.</p> - -<p>“Come, Peter,” she said, “what will you be giving me, or shall I lay a -murrain on your sheep?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll give you three silver crowns.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha!—three silver crowns for a child’s life,” and, dropping -her stick and holding out her skinny hands like the claws of some -obscene bird, she began slowly to shuffle over the floor toward Peter, -who stood rooted to the spot quaking in mortal fear.</p> - -<p>Nearer and nearer the old hag drew toward him, scraping her bare -shrivelled feet over the floor.</p> - -<p>Peter sank on his knees and crossed himself. “God’s blood,” he said, “I -will give you what you ask.”</p> - -<p>“Then give me twenty crowns,” she said, and waving her arms over the -fire the flames turned blue and shot up as though to lick her hands.</p> - -<p>She then opened a small pouch at her girdle and taking a pinch from -it threw it on the fire and a thick cloud of white smoke ascended and -filled the room with a pungent odour and then circled round the room in -fantastic shapes.</p> - -<p>“In the smoke, in the clouds, I see the future writ,” she said; “I see -three children and their fates are intertwined. Ah, the first passeth, -the second passeth, the third remaineth. I see a great treasure. I see -trouble. I see joy and a great darkness.” Then turning to Peter she -said: “Keep your crowns this time; I can do nothing; the child must -go,” and she laughed a low cruel laugh,—“and your fate,” she said, -turning to Aline<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> with a diabolic grin, “is like unto hers; but your -path is through the fire; yet there is joy and prosperity after strange -days for your little friend up at the Hall.” She laughed again, a blood -curdling fiendish chuckle, and grasping her staff she hobbled to the -door and was gone so swiftly that they could hardly believe their eyes.</p> - -<p>Poor little Joan had fallen back senseless and it was some time before -Aline could bring her round. Was the old harridan deliberately trying -to frighten the child to death or could she really in some way foretell -the future?</p> - -<p>The effect in any case was extraordinary and Aline had to pull herself -together before she felt equal to the walk home.</p> - -<p>“What does she mean by my path is through the fire?” she asked Audry, -when she met her in the courtyard.</p> - -<p>“Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it. Aline, you terrify me.”</p> - -<p>“I do hope she has not done Joan any serious harm anyway,” said Aline. -“But come, we must get ready for supper.”</p> - -<p>Late in the evening as the family was seated in the great hall and the -servants had retired, just as the children were going to bed, Richard -Mowbray came in from going round the house as his custom was to see if -everything was all right. He seemed to be in a very irritable mood and -Mistress Mowbray asked him what was the matter.</p> - -<p>“Matter, Eleanor,” he said, “you know very well I am worrying about -that cup. It’s the third thing that has disappeared this month and -I seem to be no nearer finding out than we were before. I am fairly -certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> too that money has gone the same way. Beshrew me but I would -give a goodly sum to find the knave.”</p> - -<p>“I think you might keep your discussions for another time,” said his -wife icily, glancing at Aline as she spoke; “we do not want our affairs -discussed by every stranger.”</p> - -<p>“There are no strangers here, woman,” he said. “The child is a Mowbray -which is more than you are yourself; her great grandmother was my -grandfather’s only sister. Old James Mowbray who built this house loved -her more than his son and if the old man had had his way, it is likely -enough that the lassie would be the Mistress of Holwick. Woman, you are -too jealous. The child shall always have a roof to her head as long as -I am Master of Holwick.”</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray was not particularly fond of Aline, although he was -beginning to fall under her spell, but he had a sort of rough sense -of justice, which was quite inexplicable to his wife; a trait of his -character that had descended in a marked degree to his little daughter.</p> - -<p>“Anyway it is time for the children to go to bed,” said Mistress -Mowbray. “Run along, both of you, and, mind you, not a word of what you -heard just now.”</p> - -<p>The children went upstairs and naturally could not help discussing -between themselves what Richard Mowbray had been saying. “I should like -to help Master Mowbray,” said Aline. “It seemed to upset him very much.”</p> - -<p>“We wanted some excitement, Aline,” said Audry, “and now we seem to -have more than enough, what with a heretic and a thief. I wonder what -Father would do for us if we could find the thief for him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> - -<p>Consequently for the next few days the children were on the alert to -see if they could discover anything. When they went down to visit Ian -they told him the story and the three discussed it together.</p> - -<p>“Anyway it does not matter telling you,” said Aline to Ian, “because -you are not a real person.”</p> - -<p>“And why am I not a real person, pray?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you do not belong to the world at all; you never see anybody and -live down here; you are only a sort of figure in our dream,” said Aline -playfully.</p> - -<p>“That’s rather a shadowy kind of existence,” he said, “but it’s nice to -be dreamed into existence by such delightful people.”</p> - -<p>“Look here, you two,” said Audry, “talk a little common sense. What are -we going to do about this thief?”</p> - -<p>“I think it must be some one in the house,” Aline remarked. “I do not -think any one could get over the moat.”</p> - -<p>“People like this lady would think nothing of swimming the moat,” said -Ian.</p> - -<p>“People like this lady would not do anything of the kind,” said Aline; -“they could not even get out of the water on the inner side at all, as -it is a perfectly straight wall all round, and even if they did, they -would go drip, drip, drip, wherever they went and we have seen nothing -like that.”</p> - -<p>“They could take off their clothes,” objected Audry.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and if they were disturbed,” Aline continued, “and had to escape -in a hurry, I suppose they would not think they looked a little -conspicuous and suspicious, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Where is the silver kept?” asked Ian.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span></p> - -<p>“Most of it,” said Audry, “is kept in the treasury, the little room -near the gateway where the secret passage goes. I expect that is partly -the reason for the passage; so that if the owner ever had to flee from -the house in time of danger, he would come back and get his valuables -without risk; but what an opportunity a thief would have who knew of -the passage!”</p> - -<p>Aline knit her brows and thought for some time. Menstrie, who was -very clever with his chalk, was making sketches of her. “What a very -thoughtful lady!” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, is not that beautiful?” exclaimed Audry. “It is as beautiful -as you are, Aline dear. Where did you learn about drawing, Master -Menstrie?”</p> - -<p>It was a charming little head with bold free lines and full of -expression, very like an Andrea del Sarto.</p> - -<p>“Oh, when I was in Florence and Venice,” said Ian; “it was a great -time for me and I learned many things that it would have been almost -impossible to learn over here. I was lucky enough to get to know -both Paolo Veronese and Tintoretto as they called him, but I like -the Florentine work better still. I often think I might have been an -artist, but I have too many other responsibilities.”</p> - -<p>Aline looked up at this point. “Yes, that is wonderful. Father was very -fond of drawing and had several friends who were artists. There was -Master Lindsay, who did a beautiful portrait of mother, but do you know -I do not believe he could have drawn as well as that; it is so bold and -free and yet sensitive and delicate in its details. His work was much -more cramped and over-elaborated. No,” she said, holding the drawing at -arm’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> length, “I am sure he could not have done it nearly so well.”</p> - -<p>“Well, never mind about the drawing,” said Menstrie; “what were you -thinking about?”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking that the theft could not very well have taken place at -night. If it had, probably many more things would have gone. But some -one may have slipped into the little room for a moment when the old -seneschal’s back was turned. We might go along and find out when Edward -is there, whether we can hear and know what goes on from the secret -passage.”</p> - -<p>“It is just about now that Edward fetches the silver,” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“Come along then.”</p> - -<p>So the two children jumped up and ran to the door. “Good-bye,” said -Aline, waving her hand, “wish us luck.”</p> - -<p>Ian watched them go and then fell into a reverie. What a strange thing -it was that chance should have brought him to Holwick! He looked at -the drawing which was still on his knee. “Leonardo would have given -something to draw her head,” he mused. “But neither he nor Raphael -could have done it justice. Yes, she is like her, very like, and yet -more beautiful. Who could have believed that any one could be more -beautiful? This child’s father must have been handsome as she says. -I wonder in what way I am to be of service to her. It’s a pity that -she is of the old faith. Somehow I feel that that is going to be a -difficulty. I should find it very hard to get any assistance if it were -needed. The other side would not look at me and my side would not look -at her. I wonder if they would even help me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> myself,” he pondered. -“I do not hold with most of them by any means. I fancy that child’s -father would have been more to my liking. How narrow and unkind they -all are. Think of a Catholic like Sir Thomas More, a very saint of a -man, coming to the block. Will nothing ever soften men’s hearts? John -Knox is all very well, but he’s dour. No, John, my friend, Plato was -quite right; if you do not understand beauty you will have to serve a -little apprenticeship before St. Peter will open the gates. Harmony not -strife,—the Beauty of Holiness,—think of it, Master John, think of -it! With what humility and yet with what ecstasy we shall worship in -that presence.</p> - -<p>“Ah, child,” he went on, “you are indeed the handiwork of God and, as -Plato says, I do pass through you to something more.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke the vision of the child seemed to shape itself before his -eyes. Her little feet were bare as when he saw her first and she was -stretching out her beautiful arms toward him. Her face shone with a -strange light and then gradually he felt himself lifted up and the -vision changed, becoming more ethereal and more beautiful, till his -heart stood still. It was no longer a child, it was no longer even -human beauty at all. It was altogether transcendent.</p> - -<p>He rose slowly and then knelt down. “Now I know,” he said, “this is the -heart’s adoration, this is worship. I never knew before.” He bowed down -utterly humbled and yet at the same time exalted and a voice seemed to -say,—“I am that I am.” He felt as one who is purified as in a fire and -then gradually a sense of peace stole over him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span></p> - -<p>He knelt there in a rapture for a long time until at length the vision -faded slowly away. But he realised that in some strange fashion new -strength had been given to him and that the temptations of life were -shrinking into littleness.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Aline and Audry made their way along the passage. It was -daylight so they felt that their light would not be seen. When they got -to the end they could hear perfectly and even see a little bit through -a tiny crack. They saw Edward, the seneschal, come in and take out the -great salt and the nef and then he carefully fastened the door. After a -while he came back and fetched some of the other things.</p> - -<p>When the children returned to Ian, they both exclaimed,—“Oh, you are -looking so much better.”</p> - -<p>For a moment he did not speak; he was watching Aline as she -unconsciously glided down the room with a sort of dancing step, humming -a tune and slowly waving her arms. She seemed filled with a new -sacredness, a new unapproachable otherworldliness; it was an apotheosis -of childhood.</p> - -<p>“Well, you have come back to me,” he said at length. “What did you -discover?”</p> - -<p>“Not a great deal,” Aline answered, “but we can see through a chink and -we may some day see the thief himself.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid that we shall never catch him,” said Audry, “and what is -the use of troubling about it? The thing is gone now and what is done -is done.”</p> - -<p>“No, it might come back,” protested Aline, “and I shall not give up -hope yet awhile. Come along, you have got to finish that piece of -tapestry and it’s no use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> saying what is done is done, because what is -done is no use, unless you do some more.”</p> - -<p>Both laughed and ran out.</p> - -<p>They worked at the tapestry in the solar. Mistress Mowbray was there -engaged in the same occupation. By and by her husband came in. “I -suppose you have found out nothing about that cup,” she remarked.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Master Richard, “and meseemeth I am not likely to do so. -Edward is confident that it cannot have been taken from the treasury.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! He may say so. Look you now, Richard, if I were you I should -get rid of Edward. Turn him out of doors.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that Edward has taken it?” said her husband, looking -surprised.</p> - -<p>“Why, who else could have taken it? It’s as clear as daylight. I cannot -see wherefore you hesitate.”</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray gazed steadily in front of him for a long time, -stroking his pointed beard. “Yes, I think it must be so; I shall do as -you suggest. Edward shall leave.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure Edward did not do it,” said Audry impulsively.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, wench,” said her father, “what do you know about it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, it has nothing to do with me, but it’s hard on the old man -if he did not do it,” Audry replied. “Come along, Aline; I’m tired of -this tapestry; we’ve done enough. I want you to read to me. May we go, -mother?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, run away, both of you”; and, lest Audry’s remark should have -had any effect, she added, to her husband;—“It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> will be an excellent -plan in many ways. Edward is getting past his work in any case. I shall -be very glad to have some one else.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Eleanor, it shall be as you wish.”</p> - -<p>Audry had run on. Aline had risen and stood irresolutely looking at the -Master of Holwick. “But, Cousin Richard, you will wait a bit, won’t -you?” she said coaxingly.</p> - -<p>“Why, child?”</p> - -<p>“Because it might not be Edward, and, probable as it seems, you cannot -be certain.” She rose and put her arm round him and in her most -bewitching way added,—“You will think it over, won’t you? I know I -am only a little girl, but what would you think, Cousin Richard, if -afterwards it turned out that you were wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Aline,” shouted Mistress Mowbray, “I will not have you interfering. -Edward shall leave at once. We cannot have a thief in the house.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t just, Mistress Mowbray. You do not know that he is a thief; -you have no proof.”</p> - -<p>“Wench, I can dismiss my servants when I please, thieves or not -thieves.”</p> - -<p>In addition to the claims of justice Aline felt a definite feeling of -antagonism rising in her, a touch of the fighting instinct. “Of course -you can do as you please,” she said, “but that does not make it fair.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you Edward shall go; he is getting too old and that is enough -reason.”</p> - -<p>“Richard,” she continued, “am I mistress of this house or is that -skelpie? The man is only a servant and I can treat him as I like. I am -within my rights.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline could not resist going on, yet she hated the whole thing; she -felt that her attitude was unbecoming, if not impertinent; but she -could not let Edward go without a struggle, nor could she abandon a -fight which she had once begun; that was not human nature. “You may be -within your rights,” she said, “and he may be only a servant; but that -is just it;—if you belonged to the servant class yourself that sort of -reason might be enough, but ‘noblesse oblige’ as father used to tell -me. That is so, is it not, Cousin Richard? and we must investigate the -case before Edward is sent away.”</p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray flushed crimson; Aline had found the weak spot in her -armour. The <a name="vintners" id="vintners"></a><ins title="Original has 'vinter's'">vintner’s</ins> daughter was not a lady, but the one -thing in life that she desired was to be thought one.</p> - -<p>“Yes, child,” said Master Richard, for the remark had touched his -proper pride. “Yes, keeping within his rights is good enough for -common people. But gentle blood demands more than rights. It has -higher standards altogether. It is a matter of honour, not of rights. -Many things are right but they are not honourable. The churl does not -know the meaning of honour. By my troth, lassie, you remind me of my -mother’s father, the Duke of Morpeth, who used to say that aristocracy -was the pride of humility, the pride that could not be demeaned by -humbling itself, the pride that could not lower itself by standing on -its rights. Our Lord, he used to say, was the noblest knight and the -first gentleman of chivalry. Ah, little maid,” he went on, “you must -forgive me my reminiscences; the serious things of life cannot be left -out.”</p> - -<p>“No, Cousin Richard, I’m listening.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p> - -<p>“I remember,” he continued, “how he used to quote ‘He that sweareth to -his own hurt and changeth not shall never be moved,’—‘qui facit haec -non movebitur in aeternum.’ That was his illustration of the principle -in practice; the vulgar man sticks to his bargain or his promise; the -gentleman goes entirely beyond his promise and does what is expected -of him, whether he had given his word or not. The vulgar man tries to -wriggle out of an engagement if it does not suit him; the gentleman -stands to the most trivial engagement, even if there is no formal -promise, though it may cost him much sacrifice. Honour compels him, -‘noblesse oblige.’ The man of poor blood has no honour; he merely has -honesty and he thinks the gentleman is a fool. He has not climbed high -enough to see.</p> - -<p>“You are right, little one; there would be nothing wrong in dismissing -Edward; we have no promise, no contract: we may even act to our own -hurt by keeping him, if he really should be the thief, but honour -demands it. The matter shall be thoroughly investigated before we do -anything with Edward.”</p> - -<p>Aline having gained her point ran away. She had not intended at first -definitely to withstand Mistress Mowbray. However, Master Richard had -agreed with her and she dismissed the matter from her mind.</p> - -<p>Not so Mistress Mowbray. She was mortified and she was not going to -forget it. Besides the child had committed the unpardonable sin of -showing that she was a lady and making it equally clear that she, -Eleanor Mowbray, belonged to a lower class. Mistress Mowbray was -learning her lesson.</p> - -<p>Day after day the children used to go at the proper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> hour and once or -twice Edward did leave the door unlocked for a few moments; but they -never saw any one come in and finally began to lose heart and feel that -they must give it up as hopeless.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="vi" id="vi"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> -<small>BITTERNESS</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>AN was alone in the secret room. He had been busy writing and a great -pile of papers lay before him. He was tired and felt he could write -no more, so he picked up some sketches he had made of the children. -They would often come down and sit for him and he had gathered quite -a collection. What a wonderful pair they were. Audry was the easier -to draw. She was not quite so tantalisingly subtle with her laughing -brown eyes and roguish lips. The face was clearly cut, with decided -character, from the well defined brows and the strongly marked forms -about the eyes down to the firm determined little chin. “Were it not -for a certain pair of faces,” he said, “that haunt me day and night -I should have said that there could not be anything more beautiful.” -He then turned to the sketches of Aline and put them aside one by -one impatiently;—why could he not catch the elusive swing of those -graceful poses? It was no use; they were unattainable. He was looking -discontentedly at a sketch of her face and wondering whether any one -could ever draw the infinite variation in the finely modelled form of -Aline’s mobile lips, when Audry came in.</p> - -<p>He put the drawing down by the papers on the table.</p> - -<p>“Writing again,” said Audry; “you are always writing. I cannot think -what it is all for.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> - -<p>“One must be doing something,” he answered.</p> - -<p>She hardly seemed to heed his reply. “It is nice to have some one to -come to,” she said; “everything is all wrong just now.”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, dear?” he asked, noticing that the child had been -crying.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I have such a tale to tell you about Aline. You know that mother -thought that the thief was Edward, and father has been spending ever so -much time and trouble over it and has practically proved that it could -not be Edward; because, though Edward may have taken the cup, there -was some money that went one day when Edward was away from Holwick. So -mother must needs get it into her head that it was Aline.”</p> - -<p>“How utterly ridiculous!” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and at first I do not think she really thought so; it was only -because she does not like Aline and is particularly angry with her -just now, because it was Aline who was the cause of her being shown -up as wrong about Edward; and——and,” the child went on sobbing as -she spoke,—“it was partly my fault. Mother knows I love Aline and I -was rude to her the other day and she knows it punishes me more than -anything else for her to be unkind to Aline”; and here Audry quite -broke down.</p> - -<p>“Do not cry, dear child,” said Ian, stroking her thick brown locks. -“Come, tell me all about it and we’ll make a nice plan to put things -right for Aline.”</p> - -<p>Audry and her mother never got on very well together. Both were -headstrong and impulsive, but whereas Audry’s nature was generous and -kind, the lady of Holwick was a hard selfish woman. She loved her -daughter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> in her selfish way, but power was her one desire, and she -wanted entirely to dictate the course of her life for her; and even in -the things of little importance was apt to be tyrannical. Aline had -become a cause of much contention between them, and Eleanor Mowbray -had now added to her natural dislike of Aline a desire to spite her -daughter by ill-treating her little friend.</p> - -<p>“Well, you know that Aline is in the habit of taking things to the -sick people round about,” Audry went on, when her grief had a little -subsided, “and old Elspeth generally acts as almoner. Mother, however, -has interfered lately, and has said that she will not allow it without -her permission and that, she will hardly ever give,—never, for the -people that Aline most cares about. So Aline has been buying things -with her own money and you know she has not much.”</p> - -<p>“No, poor child, it must be very sad for her.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed it is, Master Menstrie, but what has happened is sadder still. -I met her coming back from the Arnsides yesterday, and some one must -have told mother that she had been there; for mother said I was to tell -Aline to go and speak to her directly she came back. I warned her how -angry mother was and Aline asked me what it was all about. I said that -I was not absolutely certain, but that I thought it was because she -imagined that Aline had been taking things from the Hall. I went with -her to see mother,” Audry went on, “and I never saw mother so furious, -and you know how angry she can be.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that I do,” said Ian, “I have never even seen her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, anyway, she was purple with wrath and would not allow Aline to -say a word,—‘What do you mean, you dirty little thief,’ she said, -‘taking things that do not belong to you and giving them to your -good-for-nothing friends, you little beggar-brat, you? Here you are -living on charity and you must needs steal things from under our very -noses.’</p> - -<p>“When she paused to take breath, Aline told her that she had bought the -things with her own money. But that only made mother more angry than -ever. ‘What, you dare to lie to me, money indeed, what money have you, -you miserable child of a penniless wastrel? Your father was never more -than a petty laird at the best and he had not even the sense to keep -the little he had. If you have any money we all know where you got it. -No wonder you were so certain that Edward had not taken it,’ she said -with a sneer.</p> - -<p>“Aline drew herself up in that stately way that she has. She took no -notice of what mother said about her being a thief, but answered;—‘My -father was a gentleman, your father did not bear arms. You may call me -what you like, but I will not have my father spoken of like that.’”</p> - -<p>“Dear little princess,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Mother nearly choked with rage and almost screamed; ‘You insolent -hussie, he was a wretched good for nothing ne’er do weel, or he would -not have left you unprovided for.’</p> - -<p>“Then for the first time in my life I saw Aline lose her temper. It -was not like mother at all, but a sort of unnatural calm. She turned -as white as chalk and said very slowly and softly, almost hissing the -words;-‘Woman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> you are not fit to have cleaned father’s shoon. Leave -the dead alone.’</p> - -<p>“Mother rushed at her, calling her thief and liar, and I tried to stop -her, but she hit me and sent me down full length upon the floor. She -snatched up a heavy riding strop and beat Aline furiously with it. I -implored her to stop but she only hit out at me. I think she was out of -her mind with passion.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am so unhappy. I try to love mother and it is so difficult. I -wish that I had never been born.”</p> - -<p>Ian did his best to comfort the child and after a time she calmed down -and said that she would go and find Aline.</p> - -<p>When she had gone Ian paced rapidly up and down the room, going over -the miserable story in his mind. Certainly there was one good thing in -his not escaping the first night as he had intended; he was at least -here to try and make plans with her to help her, but how was it to be -done? The more he thought the more hopeless he became. Delighted, as -he knew his mother would be to look after the child, he knew that as -long as his father lived it was impossible; he would find out who had -sent her and turn her out of the house or worse than ever—and Ian -felt his flesh creep—his father might think that she was a heretic -too and then.... Again the vision of Aline burning in the flames rose -vividly and distinctly before him, as though it were an actual sight. -Ian groaned in agony. “O Lord,” he cried, “not that, not that!” He was -nearly beside himself; but as the vision passed away he grew calmer. He -still walked rapidly to and fro, however, and clenched and unclenched -his hands till the nails dug into the flesh. Here was this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> sweet -child, the sweetest thing that he had ever seen in his life, for whom -he was ready to do anything,—he was perfectly willing to suffer all -things for her, he was willing to die for her if need be, not only to -save her life, but even to make her happy, if he could make sure of -it,—and yet, here he was, absolutely unable to do anything at all, not -even to save her from one jealous woman. It was pitiable, it was almost -ludicrous; he who had escaped the forces of the inquisition and the -united endeavours of the whole countryside, to be foiled in this way by -one woman.</p> - -<p>Then he clenched his teeth. No. There must be a way and he must find -it: “And if there is not one,” he said, bringing his fist down on the -top of a chair with a crash, “I will make one.” The chair broke under -the blow. “Exactly so,” he said; “if they will not yield they shall -break.”</p> - -<p>After a time Audry returned with Aline. The child did her best to be -cheerful, but it was obviously impossible; so Ian thought that it would -be best for her to relieve her feelings by talking about it, if she -could not put the subject away from her mind altogether.</p> - -<p>“Everything sad seems to have happened all at once,” she said. -“Mistress Mowbray said such dreadful things about father and now she -has been telling every one that I am a thief and poor little Joan does -not seem able to get over the effects of Moll’s visit.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t pay too much attention to what mother says,” Audry said -softly. “She loses her temper just as I do and I do not think that she -really meant anything that she said about Captain Gillespie. It was -only that she was so angry.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, that is what I minded most, at least at the time. After all, -poor father has gone and it does not really matter to him now what she -says, and it does matter to me when people think that I am a thief. -Every one seemed to be staring at me as I passed to-day.”</p> - -<p>“I think that must be mainly your imagination, little one,” said Ian, -toying with a tress of the wonderful hair. “No one who really knew -you could believe it for a moment, and the other people do not really -matter, do they?”</p> - -<p>Aline was a little bit consoled, but she said rather pitifully,—“All -the same I wish we could find out the thief.” Then a fresh cloud seemed -to gather and she went on; “Do you think that ‘Moll o’ the graves’ -really can tell the future? She said that little Joan and I were going -to die,—and what did she mean when she said that my path was through -the fire?”</p> - -<p>Ian shivered and caught his breath as he thought of his vision, but he -spoke as calmly as he could. “Oh, one cannot say; I am afraid that the -awful old witch is trying to frighten the child to death.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Audry, “they say that she and Joan’s mother, Sarah Moulton, -had a terrible quarrel about something and many people think that it -was old Moll who terrified her into her grave and that she wants for -some reason to do the same with the child.”</p> - -<p>“The best thing,” said Ian, “is to take no notice of her. We must not -give way to superstition. It is only by allowing her to frighten us -that she can really do anything. What were you going to tell us about -Joan, Aline?”</p> - -<p>“Well, she just seems to get weaker and weaker. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> met Master Barlow -to-day, who had come over again from Barnard Castle to see her and I -said, ‘Of a truth, what is the matter with Joan?’ and he replied, ‘I -do not know what is wrong with her, little maid; but I fear she has no -chance in that <a name="aline" id="aline"></a><ins title="Original has extraneous close double quote">abode.’</ins></p> - -<p>“So I feared greatly and asked him what might be done and I told him -what Master Richard had said about sending her to Barnard Castle. That, -he said, was good, but he would suggest better. He knew a very learned -physician in Durham and also a good woman who would house the child if -Master Mowbray would be at the expense of sending her, it being a far -cry, nigh upon forty mile. Yet he did not hold out much hope even then.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am sure father will do that,” said Audry, “and then you will see -little Joan coming back well and strong. Come, what you want is a run -in the fresh air.”</p> - -<p>“I want to go down to Janet Arnside’s again, so I will go now.”</p> - -<p>The children left the room and climbed the secret stair. On their way -out they turned along beside the moat, which always had a certain -fascination for Aline. There were now king-cups and bog myrtle growing -on the outer bank, where the part of the wall had broken away, and -sheltered from the wind on the south side, water lilies were floating -in the dark water. It was a still, lovely day and the beautiful walls -and windows of the old Hall were perfectly reflected in the wide -expanse of the black mirror, where also could be seen the clear blue of -the sky and the great cumulus-clouds.</p> - -<p>“I love this old moat,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that I do; yet I am unable to say why, but I always think -it looks cruel and I feel that something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> terrible might happen in that -deep water, some unsolved mystery, I do not know what it is.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see what you mean, but at the same time it looks kindly and -protecting as it goes round the house; it might be cruel, but somehow I -feel too that it might be kind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I must go and darn my hose,” said Audry, “and you said you -wanted to go down and see Janet Arnside and her boy.”</p> - -<p>Audry picked up a large stone as she went, and threw it into the water; -it fell with a heavy sullen splash and the sound echoed back from the -walls. Aline stood a moment and watched the widening rings till they -gradually died away, and then turned down toward the hamlet.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> -<img src="images/i-p103.jpg" width="400" height="173" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">THE HALL FROM N. W. SHOWING PELE-TOWER GRANARY AND -LEDGE</div> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="vii" id="vii"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> -<small>DEATH</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">J</span>ANET ARNSIDE was a widow and lived in a small cottage not far from the -Hall. She had a son who had been very ill; and Aline had been in the -habit of coaxing Elspeth to get her small delicacies to take round to -them as they were very poor, or she would buy things with her own money.</p> - -<p>When she reached the cottage the old woman came forward and seized her -by both hands. “Bless your bonnie face,” she said, “I am glad to see -you.”</p> - -<p>“How is John getting on?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s quite a new creature, thanks to all you have done for us, -my dear. When I see him swinging along with great strides I say to -myself,—now if it had not been for our little St. Aline where would my -boy have been?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must not thank me, Janet, and I really do not like you to call -me that, you must thank Elspeth and Master Mowbray.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, true, hinnie, the Master has been very good and has always said -that we were welcome to a few things, but, there now, when I asked -Mistress Mowbray, she said that she had something else to think of than -attend to any gaberlunzie body that came round the doors. And where -should I have been with my laddie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> if it had not been for you with your -sweet face and your kind heart?”</p> - -<p>Even Janet Arnside realised that Aline’s was no ordinary beauty as -she watched the lightfooted graceful child moving round her room and -setting things straight, or helping her to cook for her sick boy, or -sitting, as she was then, with the sunshine coming through the open -door and throwing up the outline of her beautiful form against the dark -shadows within the cottage.</p> - -<p>“Ah, but Mistress Mowbray is very busy, Janet, she has a great deal to -manage in that huge place. It is Elspeth, dear old Elspeth, who looks -after all the sick folk and you should try and go up and thank her, now -that your son is better and you are able to leave him.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, Mistress Aline, that should she,” said a voice from the door -as John entered, “but it is our little mistress here that should be -getting most of the thanks, I trow.” The boy pushed back the little -window shutter as he spoke that he might the better see the child. She -was for him his conception of the heavenly angels and during his long -illness he used in his delirium to confuse her with the messengers -from above who were to take him to the other land. He had been ill for -a weary while and had had more than one relapse but she had been a -constant visitor when opportunity allowed, and had often soothed him -to sleep when even his mother could do nothing. He worshipped Aline in -a curious half-fatherly way, although he was only some four years her -senior, and the dream of his life at that time was to be of assistance -to her some day.</p> - -<p>Aline was just on the point of going when they heard rough angry voices -passing along the road, so she shrank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> back into the shadowy recesses -of the cottage;—“I tell you what it is,” one of the voices was saying, -“if you do not help me I’ll see that you never forget it.”</p> - -<p>“Now, there you are again,” the other voice replied, “you never can -keep a civil tongue in your head.”</p> - -<p>“Why that is Andrew Woolridge and Thomas Carluke,” Aline exclaimed. -“What are they doing down here?”</p> - -<p>Andrew and Thomas were two of the men from the Hall and Aline knew that -at this time of day they ought to be at work.</p> - -<p>“They are up to no good I’ll be bound,” said Janet.</p> - -<p>“Andrew Woolridge seems to be doing a good thing for himself somehow, -mother,” said John. “I wonder where he got all that meal he has been -bringing home from the mill lately; I saw him with a boll early this -morn and he brought two bolls yesterday and two the day before.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, John, and I saw him the day before that with a boll.”</p> - -<p>“He must have enough for the winter and some to sell too, if he has -been going on at that rate, mother.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, that must be, but I should not like to be the one to ask him where -he got the oats he has been so busy carrying to the mill.”</p> - -<p>“It is time I was going,” said Aline, and bidding them good-bye, she -turned homeward, pondering on her way what she had heard.</p> - -<p>“I fancy that the oats will come from Holwick,” she thought to herself. -“I wonder if he is still taking them,” and she resolved that she would -herself keep an eye on Andrew and Thomas.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p> - -<p>She had not long to wait. That very evening she managed to slip out -near the granary at dusk when the outside servants went home. Thomas -slept in the hall, but she saw him going to the gate and talking to -Andrew very quietly.</p> - -<p>The moat ran round the east side of the Hall, but there was a narrow -ledge of stone at the foot of the wall on that side, some eight feet -above the water, which went from the northeast corner where the granary -was, as far as the drawbridge. It was possible to climb on to it from -the drawbridge and walk along it with some difficulty. What purpose it -was intended to serve was not clear. The drawbridge was never drawn up -till the last of the servants had departed. Andrew went outside, but -dark as it was, Aline without coming near, saw that apparently he did -not cross the bridge. Thomas ran back and made his way to the granary. -Aline followed, her heart beating violently, and saw him produce a key -and unlock the granary door. She waited a moment wondering which would -be the best thing to do and then decided to go back to the drawbridge. -She turned round and was just in time to see the dark figure of Andrew -emerge from the left and cross the bridge with a heavy bundle on his -shoulder and vanish into the night. It was all very quietly managed, -he had evidently crept along the high ledge, and as Aline passed -through the archway to the upper quadrangle she heard Thomas behind her -breathing heavily, but she did not look round.</p> - -<p>At first she thought that she would go and tell Master Mowbray at once, -but then she hesitated. In those days it might be a hanging matter -for Andrew and she also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> had some scruples about playing the part of -an eavesdropper. She finally decided that she would speak to Andrew -herself, but was very nervous about it; as Andrew was a great big man -and from what she knew of him and from the way she had heard him speak -to Thomas on the previous night, she guessed that he would stop at -nothing.</p> - -<p>She watched for him the next day, but no opportunity presented itself. -He was always with the other servants. But late in the evening she saw -him in the quadrangle evidently waiting for Thomas. She was shaking -with excitement and the darkness added to her nervousness, but she -approached him and said in as steady a voice as she could muster, -“Andrew, I want to speak to you. It is something very serious; there -has been grain taken from the granary.”</p> - -<p>“What of that?” he replied, determined to brazen it out.</p> - -<p>Aline had hoped that her point blank assertion would have made him -confess at once and the way would have been easier for her; it was very -difficult to go on with this great burly bullying ruffian scowling at -her. However, her mind was made up and she had to go through with it. -“I know who has taken it,” she said firmly, “and I want you to promise -me that you will not take any more and that also you will replace as -much as you have taken away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you, my fine young lady? You are not the mistress of this Hall, -not by a long way, I reckon. Who are you indeed? A penniless Scot that -no one would listen to. I should like to see you go with your tales -to Mistress Mowbray. She’d soon turn you upside down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> and spoil that -pretty skin of yours,” he growled coarsely.</p> - -<p>“But I shall find it my duty to tell Master Mowbray,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is the way the land lies, you miserable tell-tale, is it?”</p> - -<p>Aline felt herself blush, as the retort stung, but she knew she was -right, and she only said, “But I should not tell any one if you would -give back the grain.”</p> - -<p>“Would you not?” he said fiercely; “well, I’ll see you never get the -chance, you little she-devil.” As he spoke he stepped forward and -placed his great hand over her mouth and lifting her up as though she -were a mere nothing, he ran with her to the gate and on to the middle -of the drawbridge. “No one will miss you in this house, you blethering -babe, and they will just think that you have somehow fallen in, playing -round in the dark. Mistress Mowbray would give me a month’s pay, if I -dared ask for it, you wretched brat.”</p> - -<p>She was absolutely powerless in his strong arms and he raised her above -his head and flung her into the moat. She struck the side of the bridge -as she fell and then dropped into the dark water. Andrew did not wait, -but ran some way into the gloom of the night and then stood to listen -whether any hue and cry was raised. Not a sound was to be heard and -after about a quarter of an hour he dimly could distinguish his fellow -servants walking home. Obviously they were unconscious that anything -unusual had happened and he was able to breathe freely as he muttered -to himself, “That was well done, she will tell no tales now.” He crept -back to the moat and peered in. All was still and black and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> moat -gave no sign of the horrible deed that had just taken place in its -waters. Hardened wretch that he was, he could not help a shudder as he -thought of what lay under that inky surface.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="viii" id="viii"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<small>REMORSE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>NDREW argued with himself as he walked homeward. No one could suspect -him. No one? Wait! There was one. What about Thomas? Thomas was not a -man to be trusted. At any moment he might find it to his own interests -to tell what he knew. Andrew began to be afraid. “I was a fool,” he -said, “after all. I must escape, escape at once; I will not go home.”</p> - -<p>He was not very clear in what direction to go. His original home was -near Carlisle, but for that reason he avoided it. He would go south, he -would make his way over the hills to Brough and Kirkby Stephen and then -strike for Lancaster.</p> - -<p>He had plenty of money and was able to secure horses at Brough so that -he actually got as far as Lancaster the next night. Here he thought he -might escape notice and right thankful was he to get to his bed.</p> - -<p>But he could not sleep. He was overtired and turned restlessly from -side to side, now drawing up his feet, now stretching them out. As he -lay there the thought of the black, glistening, silent moat returned -to him. “Meddlesome brat,” he muttered to himself, “you got what you -deserved.” The thought, however, would not depart but kept returning to -him, and his imagination would dwell upon something dark floating on -the surface of the water. “The fiends of hell get hold of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> thee,” he -uttered aloud in a hoarse whisper, sitting up in bed.</p> - -<p>As he sat up he heard a noise as of some one at his door. “Could any -one be listening?” He rose softly and listened himself on the inner -side. No, there was surely nothing. He cautiously opened the door and -peered out into the shadowy passage. As he did so the door was drawn -sharply from his hand and closed. For a moment he dared not move, but -stood trembling, waiting, expectant. He heard a distant horse on the -cobble stones, then absolute silence save the low wailing whistle of a -gust of wind. It seemed to bring back Aline’s little white terrified -face as she tried to cry out when he held her in his grip with his -hand over her mouth. The cold sweat broke out on his forehead and then -suddenly the tension relaxed,—“The wind, the wind; it was the wind -that had blown the door out of his hand.”</p> - -<p>He shivered and got back into bed. Again he heard horses’ hoofs; this -time they came nearer and nearer, they were surely coming to the inn. -Yes, they had stood still at the door. He leaped up and frantically -slipped on his clothes, while they were knocking for admission. Should -he try and escape down the stairs or through the window, down into the -yard of the hostel? He went to the other window and peeped out. It -was a man and a woman,—probably an eloping couple! He laughed a thin -mirthless laugh and once more got back into bed.</p> - -<p>This time he slept and dreamed that he was looking out of the window -into the hostel yard. Gradually it filled with dark water nearly level -with the sill. Then he saw something on the other side, floating on -the surface. It seemed to be coming his way. Slowly it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> rose;—it -was Aline, her arms hanging limply from the shoulders and the head -falling over to one side, with the mouth open and a great gash above -the forehead. It came nearer still. He tried to get away from the -window, but something held him. He strove and struggled in vain. “Oh, -that terrible mouth, that blood in the long wet hair.” Then the figure -lifted a hand and pointed at him. In another moment she would touch -him. “Maria! God!” he shrieked, but slowly it came closer and closer. -He shut his eyes; there was a great shock and he woke. He was lying on -the floor with his heart beating violently and a pain in the back of -his head.</p> - -<p>He did not dare to go back to bed this time; to sleep was worse than to -be awake. He sat down on the bed and held his throbbing brow between -his hands while his elbows rested on his knees; but gradually fatigue -overcame him and he fell asleep again. This time he found himself -standing among a crowd of other persons with lanthorns by the side -of the moat at Holwick. A little figure was being drawn up from the -water. He saw it carried in over the drawbridge, where the old arms of -the Mowbrays looked down,—argent, a cross engrailed azure;<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11" href="#Footnote_11_11" class="footnote">[11]</a> but he -dared not follow. He seemed to stand there waiting for days and days. -“Would no one ever come out?” Then the funeral cortège appeared from -under the same gateway. He followed with the crowd, no one seemed to -see him, and there, in the ancient churchyard of Middleton, he saw the -little coffin lowered into the ground.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11" href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="anchor">11</span></a> I.e., the field of the shield silver or white, the cross -blue with an irregular border.</p></div> - -<p>When every one had gone he still stood by the grave, dazed and -wondering. He was just about to leave, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> a child’s figure in the -crowd turned back. It was Audry. She came slowly up to him and looked -from him to the grave and from the grave to him. Her face was filled -with unutterable reproach. “You,” she said, and lifted her finger at -him and was gone.</p> - -<p>He tried to run after her, but it was like running in heavy clay; his -feet were as lead and he seemed to slip back a pace for every step he -took forward. Finally he abandoned the attempt and, putting his hands -over his face, he wept bitterly.</p> - -<p>He was still weeping when he woke. “Holy Mother,” he cried, “why did -I do it?” The thought of the frail child bravely withstanding him in -the courtyard of Holwick came back to him,—“little St. Aline,” as the -villagers called her. Oh! how could he have done such a deed? “I am -lost, damned, and nothing I may do can ever bring her back. Cain! Cain! -unclean, branded and accurst!”</p> - -<p>It was morning now, should he go back and give himself up? Give himself -up and be hanged! Surely it were better to slay himself with his own -hands than do that! But the love of life is strong. Though he were -dead, she would not come to life again; the only thing that seemed to -offer any interest or hope was that some day he might be able to serve -little Mistress Audry, Aline’s playmate, Aline’s friend, all that was -left to represent the sweet child.</p> - -<p>So he rose and ate a few mouthfuls, by way of breakfast, and mounted -his horse, intending to make his way to London. But the agony of his -remorse would hardly allow him to sit his steed and, as he looked at -the bright sunshine, he shuddered and cursed it in his heart.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ix" id="ix"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> -<small>THE JUDGMENT</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">W</span>HILE Andrew was starting over the hills in the darkness, the family -had gathered in the hall. Master Mowbray had seen that the drawbridge -was raised and that everything was safe for the night. Audry soon -wondered what had become of Aline and after a time made an excuse to -get away and went up to their room and down to the secret chamber. “Is -not Aline here?” she queried.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Ian, “she has not been down for a long time.”</p> - -<p>Ian came towards Audry as she spoke. “Why? cannot you find her?” he -said.</p> - -<p>“No, she is not in the hall and not in our room.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps old Elspeth knows.”</p> - -<p>“I had forgotten her for the moment,” and Audry’s face brightened up. -“I will run and find her.” This she did at once but Aline had not been -seen.</p> - -<p>At length Audry felt that she must tell the others. So she came back to -the great hall and told Master Mowbray that Aline had disappeared.</p> - -<p>“’Sdeath,” he exclaimed, “what has happened to her; call the men at -once, run, Audry.”</p> - -<p>“Oddsfish man,” said Mistress Mowbray, “one would think the child was -an infant that could not take care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> of itself,—making such a fuss as -that! And I do not see that it would be so very great a matter if she -were lost. Why, you make as much a to-do about her as though she were -your own daughter. The hussie is up to mischief and she will see that -she does herself no harm.”</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray did not wait for all this, but left his wife talking -to the empty air. The first thing was to rouse all the servants and -every room inside was speedily examined, but with no result. “She must -have gone out before the gate was shut,” suggested Audry, “but that -is a very unusual thing. She might have gone to speak with one of the -servants and crossed the bridge just before it was closed. But even -if she had walked a little way and not heard them close the gate, she -would have rung the great bell. Surely she would not be too frightened.”</p> - -<p>To be out after the drawbridge was raised was a very serious fault as -every one in the Hall knew full well, and many a servant had rather run -the risk of staying out all night than incur the wrath and penalties -that would follow such an offence.</p> - -<p>“I hope the child has not come back and walked into the moat,” said -Master Mowbray. “It is a terribly dark night. Come this way,” he added -in a husky voice. In his rough way he was fonder of her than he would -have admitted even to himself, and her spell was increasing its hold -upon him.</p> - -<p>They went to the gate and the drawbridge was instantly lowered. They -then crossed the bridge and divided into two parties, taking their -lanthorns to the right and left.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span></p> - -<p>Audry accompanied her father to the left and they had not gone ten -paces before they came upon Aline’s little form lying in a broken piece -of the moat-wall, half in and half out of the water. It was easy to get -down to the water in many places on the outer side although impossible -on the inner side. Master Mowbray stepped down and picked up the slight -figure and carried it into the hall.</p> - -<p>She had apparently been dead for some time, and Audry broke into -uncontrollable weeping; her whole frame shook violently and it almost -seemed that she would choke herself. Every one stood aghast. Even -Mistress Mowbray felt something of the atmosphere of grief; she was -the only one sufficiently unmoved to speak at all, but she said, “Poor -little lassie, that was a hard ending. But, Audry dear, you must try -and control yourself, you will make yourself seriously ill.”</p> - -<p>“I do not mind if I do,” the child sobbed in reply. “Oh, Aline, darling -Aline, do not leave me, I cannot bear it,” and she flung herself on to -the small still form on the old oak settle and they feared her heart -would break.</p> - -<p>By this time every one was weeping, even the men-servants and Mistress -Mowbray herself.</p> - -<p>But as Audry passionately pressed the cold wet features to her face, -she suddenly cried out, “She is not dead. I am sure she is not dead, I -am sure that she still breathes.”</p> - -<p>There was a fire in the hall, as the summer was getting on and the -evenings were chilly up in the moorland district. In less time than -it takes to say, a bed had been made up by the fire and warmed with a -warming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> pan, and old Elspeth had tenderly undressed the child and put -her in the bed, while some one else had brought some warm milk. Elspeth -was bending over her and lightly rubbing the damp hair, half crooning -to herself, “My bairnie, my bonnie bairnie, wake up, my sweetest, -wake up once more.” Suddenly Aline opened her eyes and looked round -for a moment, and then closed them again. She gave no more sign that -night and it was an anxious time; but hope was strong. Hardly any one -went to bed but Mistress Mowbray. Even the servants for the most part -wandered about, coming every now and then to ask if there was any news. -The child was a favourite with nearly all of them, as much on account -of her gentle thoughtful ways as on account of her extreme almost -supernatural beauty. Then there was that strange mysterious power that -seemed to hold practically every one with whom she came into contact. -There were, of course, one or two who felt her very presence was a sort -of standing reproach and who disliked her accordingly, but such was -the extraordinary sweetness of her disposition that some, even in this -class, found themselves coaxed to a certain extent out of their worse -into their better selves against their will.</p> - -<p>In the morning it was apparent that immediate danger was passed, which -caused Mistress Mowbray to exclaim,—“Drat the bairn for frightening us -all like that without any reason. How stupid of her to fall into the -moat.”</p> - -<p>As soon as Aline was able to talk she had to explain how it happened. -They had gently moved her to another room and Audry and Master Mowbray -were seated at the bedside. She had told them of what she had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> and -how Andrew had thrown her into the water. “As I fell,” she went on, -“I felt my head strike violently against something. I luckily did not -become unconscious at once, but was able to scramble through the water -to the bank. I remember trying to get into a sort of hole in the wall, -and then I remember no more till this morning.”</p> - -<p>“But can you swim?” said Master Mowbray in blank astonishment, as it -was not considered a little girl’s accomplishment.</p> - -<p>“A little bit,” said Aline, not too anxious to draw attention to her -powers in this direction; as after the River Tees incident she felt it -might be better if they did not know what she was capable of doing.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid, sire, that the man is likely to be the same that took -your silver cup and other things,” she said, “but I am glad that I have -not had my wetting for nothing, and that you will be able to stop any -more corn being taken.”</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray stooped and kissed her. He did not often kiss the -children, not even Audry, as his was not a demonstrative nature. “Poor -sweet soul,” he said, “how can I repay you for what you have done?”</p> - -<p>“Let us go into the library again,” said Aline at once.</p> - -<p>“Of course, of course,” he said hastily; “however, we must do -something better than that; but for the present I must see about those -scoundrels, Andrew Woolridge and Thomas Carluke.”</p> - -<p>When Thomas heard what had happened on his arrival in the morning he -cursed the fates, saying to himself, “Why was Andrew such a fool as not -to go and get a long rod and feel all around that moat-side. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> could -never have got out on the inner side. But who would have known that the -skelpie could swim?” and he bit his lips in indignation. “I wonder if -they will suspect me? No, Andrew is gone. I shall be safe; but curse -her, curse her a thousand times.”</p> - -<p>Andrew had not even dared to go to his own house but had slipped away -over the hills at once; consequently, when they sent down there, -nothing was known of him. News, however, soon leaked out of what had -happened and soon the whole country-side was on his track, with the -consequence that, before three days were spent, he was safely lodged in -what was known as the lower tower-room, in the old pele-tower on the -west side of the Hall.</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray was determined to send him to York to stand his trial -as soon as possible, but to his great surprise he met with opposition -from a very unexpected quarter. He went and told Aline the next morning -after the successful capture and added that his intention was to send -Andrew to York on the following day but one, expecting that the news -would give her satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Aline did not seem particularly pleased; but Audry, who was there, -said, “Oh, I am glad they have caught him; I hope he will soon be -hanged.”</p> - -<p>Aline looked up rather puzzled. “Isn’t that rather blood-thirsty?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! Aline, dear Aline, if he had succeeded! Oh!” and Audry nearly -wept at the bare thought.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I am not sure that people should be hanged.”</p> - -<p>“Of course they should be hanged,” said Master Richard.</p> - -<p>Aline felt a certain spirit of opposition arising.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> “Certainly,” she -thought, “hanging does not seem to be a particularly helpful road to -repentance.” Her head ached and she could not think very clearly; but -of a surety if once she let the man be hanged it would be too late to -do anything.</p> - -<p>The others watched her silently for a few moments and then to Master -Mowbray’s amazement Aline begged with tears in her eyes that he would -let Andrew off if he would confess all that he had taken and restore -it as far as possible, and promise to make all the amends that lay in -his power. Master Mowbray at first absolutely refused; but, at last, to -humour the child, promised that he would reconsider the question on the -following day if she were better.</p> - -<p>Aline was stronger and brighter the next day and when Richard Mowbray -came in to see her she renewed her request,—“You said, sire, -yesterday,” she began, “that you would like to do something better for -me than just let Audry and me use the library again, so I want, please, -to make this my request,—that you will not punish Andrew and Thomas if -they show that they are really sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, if you put it that way, child, I shall have to do what you -ask, as far as is possible.” He sat for a few moments without speaking, -and then added,—“I have examined into the matter and find that Thomas -did not actually steal anything himself, nor did he get anything out of -it; but he seems to be a poor cowardly sort of fellow whom Andrew used -as a tool. I might let him stay on in the house if you greatly wish it, -but I really cannot, even if we pardon Andrew, have him any longer at -the Hall. I think that the man is too violent to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> trusted. He does -not really belong to this neighbourhood at all and it might be possible -to send him back to Carlisle whence he came. That is about all that I -can suggest. There is a cousin of mine near there who might keep an -eye on him, and if he gives sign of trouble this could still be kept -hanging over him. But do you really wish it? Do you understand, child, -what you are doing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I really would like it,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Then I shall go and speak to the men,” said Mowbray, and departed.</p> - -<p>After half an hour he came back again. “Would you mind seeing them?” -he said. “I think it would be good for them. I have told them what you -asked and at first they hardly seemed to believe it. Andrew scarcely -said anything, though Thomas was profuse in his gratitude.”</p> - -<p>“I will see them if you wish it, but it is not easy.”</p> - -<p>He looked at the sad little figure and his heart smote him and yet -somehow he felt that it was the right thing to do, so he went down -again and brought up the men.</p> - -<p>Aline was propped up on pillows; she looked very weak, but the -wonderful pearly, almost translucent, complexion that distinguished -her had for the moment recovered its usual brilliancy. Andrew was led -in with his hands tied behind his back; he looked sullen and sheepish, -whereas Aline had seldom looked more queenly in spite of her condition. -Thomas was not bound and looked singularly at ease.</p> - -<p>“You have both of you behaved most disgracefully,” Master Mowbray said -in a judicial tone; “you have meanly taken advantage of the house that -had provided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> you with your livelihood and one of you has committed a -crime so vile that it is not for me to find words in which to express -my abhorrence. If I were doing what my real judgment tells me I should -do, you, Thomas, for your part, would spend a long time in York Gaol, -and as for you,” he continued, turning to Andrew, “the world would soon -be rid of you altogether. However, Mistress Aline has asked me to give -you both another chance, as you know; but I wanted you first to see the -result of your sin and to give you an opportunity of thanking her for -what you do not deserve; so I have brought you here. Aline, child, tell -them what you want them to do.”</p> - -<p>It was a very difficult task for the small invalid, and Master Mowbray -did not at all realise what he was demanding from the sensitive highly -strung little maiden. But she nerved herself for the task and tried to -forget herself and everything but the men before her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please, Andrew,” she said, “I only want to tell you that I am -feeling much better. I shall be all right in a day or two, and Master -Mowbray says that you are to go to Carlisle, where you used to live. -My father once took me to Carlisle when I was a very little girl and -it is a fine town, much bigger than Appleby. You should easily find -work there and you will not forget, will you, to send Master Mowbray -something every month to replace the things that have gone? Master -Mowbray’s cousin will let us know how you are getting on, and please, -sire,” she continued, turning to Richard Mowbray himself and then -looking at Andrew’s bonds but not mentioning them, “I want to shake -hands with Andrew and hope that he will be happy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> - -<p>The Master of Holwick looked at her rather amazed and then untied the -rope. “You will promise to repay what you have stolen,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” mumbled Andrew sulkily.</p> - -<p>“Now say how grateful you are to her and how sorry you are for what you -have done.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>Aline held out her beautiful little hand and smiled sweetly at him. -Andrew stiffly responded and then let his arm fall to his side. This -was all entirely beyond his comprehension; why she did not wish him -hanged he utterly failed to grasp. What was the use of having one’s -enemy in one’s hands if one did not crush him? “Certainly,” he thought, -“there were some foolish people who were generally called good, who -did not behave in that way, and who preached to one about one’s sins, -but this child said nothing about his sins and was simply beyond -calculation altogether.”</p> - -<p>She turned to Thomas with the same frank smile to take his hand, “So -you are going to stay with us, Thomas; I wonder whether you would be -kind enough to help Mistress Audry to look after my falcon while I am -ill.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, indeed, Mistress Aline,” he replied, “I shall never forget -your kindness to me. May the Mother of God bless you for what you have -done. We are all of us sinners and may God have mercy upon me.” He -kneeled as he spoke and pressed her hand to his lips and added, “You -may be sure that I shall always be ready to serve you to my dying day. -It will be my lasting honour to carry out your least wish.”</p> - -<p>Thomas congratulated himself on having escaped so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> easily, and as they -were dismissed and were crossing the courtyard he said to Andrew,—“She -is a soft one and no mistake.” Andrew did not reply; he had not -recovered his senses. She must be a fool, he thought, and yet she made -him look a pretty fool, too; he was not sure for the moment that he did -not hate her more than ever. But, as he came to think it over in after -years, the scene would rise before his eyes, and he would see that -fascinating delicate face with pain written all over it, and hear the -musical voice pleading,—“You will not forget, will you?”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="x" id="x"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> -<small>THE PACKMAN’S VISIT</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN the men had gone Aline lay thinking, dreaming, building castles in -the air. What a narrow escape she had had! Life seemed full of troubles -and dangers. Here was she whose life had been a series of misfortunes -and now she had only just escaped death, and there was Ian, whose -escape had been as close as her own and who was still in uncertainty -and peril. He not only had misfortunes but was in danger all the time. -“It must be terrible to live in perpetual anxiety,” she thought. “What -a pity Ian is a heretic,” she mused; “it means that he is never safe -anywhere and it hinders his chances. He is obviously very clever in -spite of his humble station. Only think,—if he had not been a heretic -he might have become a prince of the church; after all the great -Cardinal Wolsey was only the son of a butcher and Ian is better than -that. I think his people had a little bit of land. Why, some of these -yeomen round here are almost like gentlemen. Ah! but if he had been on -the road to a cardinal, I should never have seen him and so I should -not be interested in him at all.</p> - -<p>“Now I wonder,—but I suppose he could hardly be as clever as all -that; but why should he not become a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> great doctor in a university?” -and Aline drew herself a vivid picture of Ian as a sort of Abelard -gathering thousands of students round him wherever he went. But the -picture was spoiled when again she remembered that his heresy would -stand in the way. “How cruel they were to Abelard,” she said, “but -marry, they are worse now, and that was cruel enough.”</p> - -<p>Then her thoughts turned from Abelard to the heart-rending picture of -Heloise and her love for him. “She was clever, too,” she thought, “I -should like to be clever like that. Why should not a girl be clever? -The Lady Jane was clever, as father was always reminding me and then -they chopped off her head, alas! So is the Lady Elizabeth’s Grace. I -dare say the Queen’s Grace will have her sister’s head cut off, too. I -believe the best people always have a sad time. Poor, poor Heloise!”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” she reflected, “if I ever could love like that, with -absolute entire whole-hearted devotion, giving up everything for my -love,—my friends, my honour, and even the consolations of religion. -And yet I believe that’s the right kind of love, not the kind that just -lets other people love you. Well, if one can’t be clever or love or do -anything that is best without suffering, then I think I would choose -the suffering. But, oh dear! it is very hard, I wonder if things get -easier as one gets older. I am afraid not. Yet fancy having the praise -of one’s love sung by all the world hundreds of years after one was -dead! That must have been a love indeed. Ah, Heloise, I should like to -love like you when I grow older. Yes, I would rather be Heloise with -all her sorrow than the grand ladies who marry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> for wealth or position -or passing affection and do not know really what love is at all.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I think I should prefer to marry some one very clever, -some one who really in himself was superior to other men, a man with -something that couldn’t be taken away like riches or titles or outer -trappings of any kind. Yes, my knight must be clever as well as brave. -I should like some one like father. But I think I should like him to -be great and wealthy, too, although these other things are best. It -would be rather nice to be allowed to wear cloth of silver and gold -chains,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12" href="#Footnote_12_12" class="footnote">[12]</a> but I suppose that is very silly. I wish father were alive -now to help me. I should like to be clever myself, too, and there is no -one here who can give me aid. Master Richard does not care about these -things; I wonder if Ian would be any good. It’s marvellous what he has -picked up. I wonder if he knows Latin. But that isn’t likely. I shall -ask him next time I see him, but I suppose I really ought to try and -sleep now.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12" href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="anchor">12</span></a> The sumptuary laws very strictly regulated what people -were allowed to wear according to their rank.</p></div> - -<p>So she fell asleep and dreamed; and dreamed that she was dressed in -velvet and cloth of silver and a gold chain; and a knight in shining -armour was kneeling at her feet and calling her his most learned lady.</p> - -<p>Aline did not get well very quickly. It was not many days before she -was able to get up, but she was much shaken and easily tired, so that -she was hardly able to do more than walk a little bit about the house. -She was quite unequal to going upstairs and although at her particular -request she had gone back to her own room, Richard Mowbray himself -used to carry her up when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> it came to bed time. Sometimes he would -even carry her out on to the moors, and altogether he paid her more -attention than he had been wont to do. This made his wife more jealous -than ever and, although at the time it prevented her from ill-treating -the child, it only made matters worse afterwards.</p> - -<p>One afternoon when she had somewhat gained strength, he carried her out -across the court and up the nine steps on to the library terrace. “I am -going to take you into the library,” he said as he set her down, while -he opened the door. Aline was pleased, as it was now some weeks since -she had entered the room.</p> - -<p>He seated her in the glorious oriel window at the end, with its -beautiful tracery and fine glass, and put her feet up on the window -seat. The lower part of the window was open and revealed a wonderful -view of the rolling purple moors, while in the foreground was the -glassy moat, blue as the heaven above, bright and beautiful, as though -nothing untoward had ever happened there.</p> - -<p>“It is a nice, quiet retreat this,” he said, “but it was more suited to -your great-great-grandfather who built it than to me. My father used -to spend a great deal of time here as a young man, but latterly he was -almost entirely at his other place in Devon as it suited his health. -Of course that has gone now; we are living in hard times, although we -still hold the old Middleton property, which is our principal estate; -Holwick is only a very small place. But he always took an interest in -this library and right up to the last he used to send books up here -to add to the collection, but his own visits here must have been very -rare.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span></p> - -<p>“What was my great-grandmother like, did you ever see her, sire?” said -Aline.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Aline Gillespie was a very beautiful woman, and exceedingly -clever. She was also very gentle and a universal favourite. My -great-grandfather, James Mowbray, was almost heartbroken when she -married, although he was warmly attached to your great-grandfather, -Angus, but it meant that she had to go and live in Scotland. My -grandfather was fond of her, too, although he was always a little bit -jealous.”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember her, sire?”</p> - -<p>“I saw her now and then and remember that she used to give me presents, -one was this well-wrought Italian buckle, which I still wear on my -belt. She was very fond of books too, and there was some talk of my -great-grandfather having intended to leave her half the books in this -library; but he died rather suddenly and I imagine, therefore, that he -had not time to carry out his intention.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose then that she would often sit where I am sitting now. How -interesting it is to picture it all.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, she had a special ambry in the wall, that old James Mowbray -had made for her. It is there behind that panel, with the small -ornamental lock. I think that the key of it will be about somewhere. -The library keys used to be kept in the little drawer in this table at -the end.”</p> - -<p>“I did not know that there was a drawer,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“I fancy it is made the way it is on purpose, so as not to be very -conspicuous. You cannot call it a secret drawer though. I doubt if that -kind of thing was in the old man’s line, although he had some strange -fancies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> Yes, here they are,” he said, pulling out the drawer. “See, -this is the ambry,” he went on, opening the cupboard as he spoke. -“Would you like it for your own treasures?”</p> - -<p>“Very much indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Then you can have it.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s face lit up with pleasure. “Oh, thank you so much, that is -delightful.”</p> - -<p>“I am not certain what these other keys are for,” said Master Mowbray. -“This is, I think, the key of that old kist which used to have some -papers that were at one time of importance relating to the house. If -you like to rummage over old things you may enjoy having a look at -them. I think that you are a good girl and that I may trust you, but -you must remember always to lock it and put everything back. One of the -other keys is, of course, the key of the rods that hold the books and -the remaining key I have forgotten. You had better take your own key -off the bunch, but keep them all in the drawer as before.”</p> - -<p>He put the keys in the drawer and came back and sat on the seat -opposite her. “I have never heard you read,” he said, “and Audry tells -me that you are a fine reader. I have almost forgotten how to read -myself, so little do I practise it nowadays. Are you tired, child? -Would you read me something?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sire, if it would please you,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You can call me Cousin Richard,” he replied. “I remember how my aunt, -your great-grandmother, whom you slightly resemble, once read to me in -this very room, when I was a boy.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what did she read?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> - -<p>“There was one story, a poem about a father who had lost his little -daughter, and saw a vision of her in heaven.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ‘Pearl,’ a lovely musical thing with all the words beginning with -the same letters. I do not mean all the words; I do not know how to -explain it; you know what I mean.”</p> - -<p>“Then there was another one about a green girdle and a lady that kissed -a knight.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’; it is a pretty tale.”</p> - -<p>“But I think what I liked best of all was Sir Thomas Malory.”</p> - -<p>“That is what Audry likes best,” said Aline; “she thinks that some of -the books that I read are too dry, because they are not stories, but I -am not sure that I too do not like ‘The Morte d’Arthur’ best of all.”</p> - -<p>“Read me something out of that.”</p> - -<p>She turned to the well known scene of the passing of Arthur. Master -Mowbray leaned back against the window-jamb and looked across at her -in the opposite corner. The late afternoon sun was warm and golden. -She was wearing a little white dress, which took on a rich glow in the -mellow light. Over her hair and shoulder played the colours from the -glass in the upper part of the window. She knew the story practically -by heart and her big eyes looking across at him seemed to grow larger -and rounder with wonder and mystery as she told the tale.</p> - -<p>Under the spell of the soft witching music of her voice he was -transported to that enchanted land, and there he saw the dying king -and Sir Bedivere failing to throw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> the sword into the water:—“But go -again lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of -my life, for I have taken cold ... for thou wouldest for my rich sword -see me dead!” Then followed the passage where Sir Bedivere throws in -the sword and the mystic barge comes with the three Queens, and as -Richard Mowbray looked over at the little face before him he saw in -the one face the beauty of them all. So on the wings of a perfect -tale perfectly told he forgot the perplexities and anxieties that -encompassed him, and himself floated to the Land of Avilion while he -gazed and, like Ian Menstrie, was lured by the same charm and began -to wonder whether she were not indeed herself from the land of faëry. -“‘For I will go to the vale of Avilion,’” he repeated to himself, “‘to -heal me of my grievous wound.’”</p> - -<p>“Yes, this is a healing of the wounds of life,” he added. “I never -realised before that beauty had such power. Come, child, it is time we -went,” he said aloud and gently lifted her in his arms; “we must see -what the others are doing.” So he carried her out on to the terrace -that ran in front of the library and down the steps and across the -quadrangle to the great Hall. There they found considerable excitement; -a packman with five horses had arrived from the south and every one was -making purchases who had any money laid by.</p> - -<p>“Now that is a fine carpet,” he was saying as he unrolled a piece of -Flemish work. “It was made at Ispahan for the Shah of Persia and is the -best bit of Persian carpet you will ever see. That would look well in -my lady’s boudoir. I would let you have that for five florins.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> - -<p>He did not seem very pleased at the master’s entrance at that moment; -Richard Mowbray glanced at it and remarked, “But that is Flemish -weaving.”</p> - -<p>“Did I not say Flemish?” he said. “Oh, it is Flemish right enough; it -was made for the Duke of Flanders.”</p> - -<p>“And if I had said it was Tuscan I suppose it would have been made for -the Duke of Tuscany.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, master, you make mock of me; see, here, I have some buckles of -chaste design that might take your fancy or these daggers of Spanish -make, or what say you to a ring or a necklace for one of the ladies?”</p> - -<p>“We have no moneys for gauds and vanities.”</p> - -<p>“But beauty will not bide, and when you have the money it may be too -late; you would not let it go ungraced. Prithee try these garnets on -the Lady of Holwick. They would become her well, or this simple silver -chain for the young mistress,” looking at Aline for the first time. “By -my troth she is a beautiful child,” he exclaimed involuntarily.</p> - -<p>“Ah well then, my friend, good wine needs no bush.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, sweets to the sweet, and for fair maids fair things.”</p> - -<p>“Truly you are a courtier.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and have been at court, and those of most courtesy have bought -most of my wares.”</p> - -<p>“Enough, enough, what have you of good household stuff, things that a -good housewife must buy though the times be hard. Come, show my lady -such things as good linen and good cloth.”</p> - -<p>“You bring him to the point,” said Mistress Mowbray; “yes, sirrah, what -have you in the way of linen?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have linen of France and linen of Flanders; I have linen fine and -linen coarse.”</p> - -<p>He unrolled several samples as he spoke, and Mistress Mowbray selected -some linen of Rennes of fine texture, which she said would do to make -garments for Audry and herself. “And your supply of clothes that -you brought from Scotland is in need of some plenishing,” she said, -glancing at Aline. <a name="quote" id="quote"></a><ins title="Original does not have opening quotation mark">“There</ins> will be work for idle hands. Here, this -stout dowlas<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13" href="#Footnote_13_13" class="footnote">[13]</a> will stand wear well, and be warmer too.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13" href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="anchor">13</span></a> A very coarse sort of canvas used for underclothes by the -poorest classes in the sixteenth century.</p></div> - -<p>Aline felt the blood rush to her face, but she said nothing. It was not -that she thought much about her clothes; indeed she had the natural -simple taste of the high born that eschews finery, yet a certain -daintiness and delicacy she did desire and had always had, and it was a -bitter disappointment, a disappointment made more cruel by the public -shame of it.</p> - -<p>Walter Margrove, the packman, looked at her; he had not travelled -amongst all sorts and conditions for nothing and he took the situation -in at a glance.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mistress Mowbray,” Aline said at length, “I shall have a great -deal to do.”</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray had left the hall, but old Elspeth who was standing by -said, “I will help you, childie.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray scowled at her, and muttered,—“Well, I hope, Aline, -that you will work hard,” then turning to Margrove she asked to look -at other wares. Such opportunities did not often occur in a remote -place like Holwick and it was very difficult to do one’s purchasing at -a distance; so although she only bought things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> of real necessity she -laid in a large supply from the packman’s stock.</p> - -<p>On these occasions the surrounding tenants were allowed to come up -to the hall and Walter Margrove, when Mistress Mowbray had departed, -started to put his things together to take them into the courtyard. -The children stayed behind to watch him for a few moments and as he -was leaving the Hall he pressed a small packet into Aline’s hand and -said in a whisper, “Do not say anything; it is a pleasure, just a small -remembrance.”</p> - -<p>The packet contained the small silver necklace that he had been showing -before. It was not of great intrinsic value, but was of singularly -chaste design and though exceedingly simple was of much beauty.</p> - -<p>Aline was immensely surprised at the unexpected joy, and for the time -it quite made up to her for her previous disappointment.</p> - -<p>As the packman went into the courtyard a great crowd gathered round -him, both chaffering and gossiping. “Who is the beautiful young -mistress that has come to Holwick?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she is a distant cousin of Master Mowbray,” said one, “but you -have no idea of the things that have been going on since you were last -at Holwick.”</p> - -<p>“What things?”</p> - -<p>“Why, the child has been nearly killed,” said old Elspeth who had -followed the packman out. “Poor wee soul, it makes my old heart bleed -to think of it even now.”</p> - -<p>Elspeth then recounted the tale of all that had taken place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then why is Mistress Holwick not more grateful? She seems to have -saved her and her good man a pretty penny indeed.”</p> - -<p>“The woman is crazed with jealousy or envy or what not,” said another.</p> - -<p>“But the child seems a lovable one to my thinking,” said Margrove.</p> - -<p>“There has never been a better lassie in Holwick is my way of looking -at it.” It was Janet Arnside who was speaking; she had come up to see -Elspeth, and take the opportunity of buying a few trifles at the same -time. “My boy just owes his life to her; she has been down to us times -without number, and I have never seen anything like the way that she -gets hold of one’s heart. I cried the whole day long when I heard -of her being hurt like that, and it just makes me rage to hear the -things that they tell of Mistress Holwick and the child. It would have -been the worst thing that ever happened to Holwick if anything really -serious had befallen her that <a name="quote2" id="quote2"></a><ins title="Original does not have closing quotation mark">night.”</ins></p> - -<p>“Ay, ay,” said several voices in chorus.</p> - -<p>“And why should not the bairn have fine linen, I should like to know?” -she went on.</p> - -<p>“It is a downright shame,” said a man’s voice.</p> - -<p>“Well, neighbour,” said Janet, “I am not the one to interfere in other -folk’s business, but I am not the only one that the child has blessed, -not the only one by a long way.”</p> - -<p>“No, that you are not, mistress,”—“No, indeed, think of my wife’s -sickness,”—“Think of my little lass,”—“Ay, and mine,”—“And my old -father,”—said one voice after another.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span></p> - -<p>“Can we not do something, neighbours?” said Janet. “Why not speak to -Master Richard himself?”</p> - -<p>“It is an ill thing to meddle between husband and wife,” said Margrove. -“By my halidame I have a half mind to speak to the jade myself. She -cannot hurt me.”</p> - -<p>“No, but she can hurt the child more, when you have gone,” rejoined -Elspeth. “Look here, it is not much, but it is something; let us get -the linen ourselves, and it will help Master Margrove, honest man, at -the same time. I shall be seeing to the making of the clothes and I can -make a tale for the child and prevent her speaking to Mistress Mowbray. -The Mistress does not pay that much attention to the little lady’s -belongings I can tell you. She leaves it all to me, and bless you if -she sees any linen garments I shall tell her that they are of those -that came from Scotland.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, agreed, agreed,” they all shouted. “Give us the very best -linen you have, master, and some of your finest lace and we will clothe -her like a princess under her kirtle.”</p> - -<p>“I’ faith, you are the right sort, but it is no profit I will be making -on this business; no, you shall have the things at the price I paid -for them and not a groat more, no, not even for carriage and I will -give her some pieces of lace myself. See here are some fine pieces of -Italian work. This is a beautiful little piece of <em>punto in aria</em> and -this is a fine piece of <em>merletti a piombini</em>: But stay; she shall have -too a finer piece still, something like the second one; it is Flemish, -<em>dentelles au fuseau</em>, from Malines”; he drew it forth as he spoke and -fingered it lovingly amid marked expressions of admiration from Elspeth -and the other woman.</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing to some beans that I shall give her,” interposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> Silas, -the irrepressible farm-reeve. “They are French, you know, from Paris,” -imitating Walter’s manner.</p> - -<p>“Be quiet”; “stop your nonsense,” they all shouted.</p> - -<p>“I am not quite sure,” he went on dreamily and quite unperturbed, -“whether I shall thread them on a string to wear on her bosom, or cook -them for her to wear inside; but certainly she shall have them for -nothing; not a groat will I take. I should scorn to ask the price they -cost me.”</p> - -<p>Jock, the stableman, stepped forward and struck out playfully at Silas. -“He always carries on like that,” he said; but Silas dodged aside and -put out his leg so that Jock stumbled and collapsed in confusion into -Walter’s arms.</p> - -<p>“A judgment on the stableman for insulting the reeve,” said Silas, -marching off with mock solemnity.</p> - -<p>As he reached the gate he turned back. “No offence, Walter; put me down -for ten florins for our bonnie little mistress. I’ll bring it anon.”</p> - -<p>The others gasped at the largeness of the sum as the good-natured face -of the reeve disappeared through the archway.</p> - -<p>Soon after, the crowd thinned away and Walter was packing up his -things, when Aline happened to come to the hall door. He saw her and -went quickly to her and before she could thank him for his present of -the necklace he said, “If at any time there is anything that you would -like me to do out in the wide world, a message for instance, remember -that I am always ready to help you.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think that there is anything just now,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Then God be with you,”—and he was gone.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xi" id="xi"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> -<small>SWORDS AND QUESTIONINGS</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>LINE had rather overtaxed her strength and had a slight set-back, so -that it was some time before she was strong enough to climb down the -stairs and visit Ian again. He was feeling very dejected that day. His -collar bone and his ankle had healed; but although in some ways better, -he was beginning to feel the want of fresh air and it told not only -upon his health but his spirits. He was also desperately anxious to -get on to Carlisle where it was arranged that he should hand over the -papers to Johnne Erskyne of Doun, but he was by no means fit to travel -on his dangerous errand. The worrying, however, made him worse and what -he felt he required was some gentle exercise to get up his strength.</p> - -<p>Altogether it was with keener pleasure even than usual that he saw -Aline come. “Oh, I am so glad to see you,” he said; “Audry has been -telling me the dreadful things that have happened, but I want you to -tell me something yourself. Sit down and make yourself as comfortable -as you can.”</p> - -<p>“But I am not an invalid now,” said Aline, “and do not need special -comfort. How are you; are you not tired of being shut up here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, and you too will be wanting some fresh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> air to put you to -rights again. Audry says that you did not suffer much pain; is that so? -But it must have been a terrible shock; you may well take some time to -recover.”</p> - -<p>“I am getting on marvellously well,” said Aline, “and I have been -thinking that you might be getting out a little bit. You could sit out -near the mouth of the cave if one of us kept watch, and after dark it -would even be safe to walk a little.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have been thinking that myself,” he replied. “I have been -looking round this room to while away the time and have found some -interesting things. I wonder, by the way, what is in that old iron -chest there. It does not seem to have any lock, which is most strange.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we must find that out,” said Aline, “but really so many things -have happened and there has been so much to do that we have not had -time to think about it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, amongst other things I have found some rapiers,” he said, “and -have been practising thrusts and parries, by way of getting a little -exercise, but one cannot do much by oneself. Two men imprisoned in this -place might keep themselves in fair condition, although it is rather -short of air for such activity; however, that cannot be.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, let me see the rapiers,” said Aline. “Ah, here they are,—and -helmets and leather jerkins and gloves. I am going to dress up,” she -added, laughing.</p> - -<p>“There now, what do I look like? You must dress up too; I want to see -how they suit you.”</p> - -<p>Ian put on a helmet and the other things while Aline executed a -graceful little dance round the room. When he had finished she said -roguishly, “Do you know anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> about fencing? I have seen people -fence. They stand something like this,” putting her right foot rather -too far forward and turning it outward and not bending the knee -sufficiently. “Shall I teach you?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I might teach you,” said Ian, quite innocently.</p> - -<p>“Well, but do you know anything about it?” and Aline smiled -mischievously.</p> - -<p>“I ought to do; when I was a wanderer in Italy I learned a great deal -that is entirely unknown here.”</p> - -<p>“Stand on guard then, and show me something.” As he moved, she appeared -to copy his attitude. “Engage,” and mechanically from long use he -brought down his sword. In a flash she disengaged and cut over. He -parried; she made a remise, and was in upon him with a hit over the -heart.</p> - -<p>Aline burst out laughing while Ian was thunder-struck. She took off -her helmet saying, “We must not have any more to-day as I am not well -enough, but we shall have some fine times later on. It was rather a -shame though, but I could not help it, it was such fun. I was a little -afraid that you would be too taken aback to parry at all, and that -would have been very dull. I hope you are a good fencer really; there -was said to be no one in Scotland who could come anywhere near my -father.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is how you come to know so much about it,” said Ian, sitting -down. Even the slight effort had been too much.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my father taught me and told me that I was getting on very well, -but I have had no practice since I came to Holwick some eight months -ago. Things are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> much harder than they used to be. Father used to give -me much of his time. You see he had no boys and so he always said -that he would like me to know the things that boys know. And yet I do -not know that I am altogether fond of them. But I have always loved -swimming, and fencing is delightful. Somehow I never cared particularly -about riding, but I have come to like it in the last week or two, since -I have started again. It takes me away from the Hall and that is a -great thing.”</p> - -<p>“I always loved riding,” said Ian. “There is nothing like a good horse -at a canter and the wind rushing over one’s face.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do not know why it was. Of course we never had good horses -after I was eight years old.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you want to get away from the Hall?”</p> - -<p>Aline did not speak at first; then she said, “Well, you see it makes a -change.”</p> - -<p>“Is it Mistress Mowbray that is the real cause? Come, little one, tell -me truthfully, doesn’t she treat you well?”</p> - -<p>“There is always a great deal to do, cleaning and mending and, when -there is nothing else, there is always spinning and carding.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I suppose that we must all of us do our share of work.”</p> - -<p>Aline could not keep back the tears, which welled into her eyes and -made them glisten. “Yes, it is not really the work, I should not mind -the work. Indeed I am used to very hard work indeed; because, before -the end, I used to have to do almost everything at home.”</p> - -<p>“What does she do to you, child? Has she been losing her temper again? -Come, tell me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p> - -<p>“I do not like to say, but she does all kinds of things.”</p> - -<p>“Well, never mind if you do not want to tell me.”</p> - -<p>“No, I do not mind telling you; it is that I am not sure how far I -should say anything to any one at all. But you will never see her and -it does relieve one’s feelings to be able to speak to any one.”</p> - -<p>“Then come and sit by me and tell me all about it.”</p> - -<p>Aline came and sat by him on the old settee. “You see it is not exactly -because she hits me that I mind, although I have never been hit by any -one before; but she is always doing little petty things that in some -ways are harder to bear than being knocked about;—for instance, when -we sit down to breakfast there are always two pitchers of milk, which -we have with our porridge. They are neither of them quite full, and she -takes one of them and pours out some for herself and Cousin Richard, -then she looks into it to see what is left and generally pours most of -it into the other pitcher. After that she hands the full one to Audry -and the one with only a little drop in the bottom to me.”</p> - -<p>“Does Audry know?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,—dear Audry,—I am sure if it would benefit Audry I -would go without milk altogether. I would not have her know for worlds; -she would quarrel with her mother over it.”</p> - -<p>“What else does she do?” Ian asked.</p> - -<p>Aline then told the story of the packman. She did not yet know what had -been done by Elspeth and the others about the linen, but she pulled -up the necklace which she was wearing under her dress and shewed it -to Ian. “Now is that not pretty? I have always wanted a necklace and -father had promised only a little while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> before he died that as soon as -he could afford it he would get me one; so I try to think of it as if -it was father’s present.”</p> - -<p>The tears again gathered in the beautiful eyes and this time one rolled -over on to her cheek. She brushed it away hastily; but Ian drew her -gently towards him and kissed her for the first time. “Sweet little -maiden,” he said, “I hope that God will be good to you after what you -have been through in your young life.”</p> - -<p>“I do not like the priest here,” she continued; “of course I like -Father Laurence, but Middleton is too far away and when I went to -confession the other day I said something to Father Ambrose about -father, but he was not a bit kind and sympathetic like our dear old -priest at home. I always keep a candle burning for father; that is -what I mainly spend my money on, and I wanted him to tell me how long -he thought it would be before my father’s soul would get to heaven; do -you think it will be very long, and will my candles help him? Somehow I -do not see why God should make any difference because of our candles; -suppose my father had had no little girl to burn candles; or suppose -that I had had no money, that would have been worse still.”</p> - -<p>“These things are very difficult, sweet child, but I am sure that the -love of your little heart that happens to show itself in buying the -candles must meet with its own reward, whether candles themselves are -necessary or not. But I am afraid that I cannot be of much use to you, -little one, because I am no longer of the old faith.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me something about that then. Father said that he would tell me -when I got older.”</p> - -<p>“I do not want to unsettle you,” Ian said; “but of one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> thing I feel -sure,—that God would never deal harshly with a child that believed -what it had been taught. When we get older it is different, just as it -is in the other responsibilities of life. That is largely why we are -put here in this world,—to learn to think for ourselves and take up -responsibilities: things are not made too easy for us, or we should not -have the high honour that God has given us of largely building our own -characters,—of making ourselves.”</p> - -<p>Aline sat quiet and thoughtful for some time. “Master Menstrie,” she -said at length, “I am not so very young now and I think that I should -like to begin to know something about these things.”</p> - -<p>“You have not read the Bible, I suppose,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“No, it is wicked to read the Bible.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“The priests say so.”</p> - -<p>“But how do you know that they are right? After all, what is the Bible? -It is the word of God, and although even the Bible was written by human -beings, it is largely the words of our Lord himself and the writings of -people who actually knew him or lived in that very time.”</p> - -<p>Ian talked to her for some time, and then Aline said that she would -like to read the Bible.</p> - -<p>“There is no reason why you should not,” he said, “but you must -remember that you are undertaking a great responsibility, and that -though it may bring great joy and comfort, it will be the beginning -of sorrow too, and you are very young,” he added, looking at her -wistfully. “I have a little English translation of the New Testament,” -he went on after a pause, “which I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> lend you, but Audry was telling -me the other day that you could read Greek.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, only easy Greek,” said Aline. “I have read some of <a name="Aesop" id="Aesop"></a><ins title="Original has 'Aisop'">Aesop</ins> -and that is quite easy, but father and I used to read Homer together -and that was delightful although more difficult.”</p> - -<p>“Did you read much? What did you like best?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I read a great deal; at least it was really father reading, -at any rate at first. I did not do much more than follow, but I got so -used to it at last that I could read it without great difficulty. There -was so much that I liked that I could not say what I liked best, but -there was little that was more delightful than the story of Nausikaa. I -shall never forget her parting with Odysseus.</p> - -<p>“Father told me that the Lady Jane Grey read and enjoyed Plato and -Demosthenes, when she was about the age I am now, besides knowing -French and Italian thoroughly. I have read a little Plato and have -tried Demosthenes, but I did not care about him so much.”</p> - -<p>“I love Plato,” said Ian. “After the Bible there is nothing so helpful -in the world. You seem to have done very well, little maid; but can you -read Latin?”</p> - -<p>“That is amusing,” she said, “because I was going to ask you if you -could read Latin. Now I shall want to know if you can read Greek or -if you read in Latin translations. Oh, yes,” she went on, “I can read -Latin quite easily. I dare say there is some Latin that I cannot read, -but anything at all ordinary I can manage. Yet I do not like Latin as -well as Greek, and the things that are written in Latin are not half as -interesting.”</p> - -<p>“I quite agree with you. I learned Latin as a boy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> but when I was -in Venice working on some great iron hinges, my employer, who was a -great scholar, took an interest in me and he enabled me to get a fair -knowledge of Greek. I have steadily practised it since and can now read -anything, except some of the choruses and things like that, without -difficulty. However, if you can read Latin, there is no need for you -to read an English translation at all, and it is much safer; as the -priests do not mind any one, who can read Latin, reading the Bible -nearly so much as those who cannot. I expect that there will be a copy -of the Vulgate in the library; although it is very unlikely that there -will be anything in the original Greek; though there might be the -Septuagint.”</p> - -<p>“What is the Vulgate then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, a translation of the Bible into Latin. It is really a revised -edition of the ‘Old Latin’ translation, made in the time of Pope -Damasus and after, largely by St. Jerome in the fourth century.”</p> - -<p>“I shall go and have a look as soon as I can.”</p> - -<p>Ian sat and looked at her without speaking. She certainly was a most -unusual child, but he was by no means anxious to trouble her mind with -disturbing perplexities. There is a good deal to be said even for the -priests, he reflected; responsibility may be too crushing altogether.</p> - -<p>“Well, I have to go and do some spinning and Mistress Mowbray will be -wondering where I am; but you will give me lessons in Greek, will you -not?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, we will start next time you come to see me. See if you can -find some Greek books in the library. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>Aline departed and sat at the wheel till supper and then went up with -Audry to their room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> - -<p>What was her surprise as she looked at her bed to see it covered with -neatly folded little piles of beautiful linen.</p> - -<p>Child as she was she knew at once that both the linen and lace upon it -were of exceptional quality.</p> - -<p>“O Audry dear! what is all this?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Well, you will never guess, will she, Elspeth?” said Audry, turning to -the old nurse who had stolen in to see how the gift would be received.</p> - -<p>“Nobody could bear that you should wear dowlas, hinnie,” said the old -dame, “and so practically every one in the neighbourhood has had a hand -in what you see there. Janet Arnside made this camise, and Martha, the -laundry-maid, made that nightrobe. Joseph, the stableman, and Silas -bought the bit of lace on this. Edward bought this larger piece of -<em>punto in aria</em> here. I made these with the <em>tela tirata</em> work with my -own hands and I do hope you will like them.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I do,” said Aline, bewildered as much by the demonstration -of widespread affection as by the altogether unexpected acquisition. -“Elspeth, you are a dear, and, oh, it is good of them, but what will -Mistress Mowbray say?”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Mowbray is not to know, that’s what they all said; if she -did, marry, she would say that we were all doited, and you would not -let her think that, would you, dearie?” said the old woman slyly. “You -will be careful not to get us into trouble, for we meant it kindly.”</p> - -<p>Aline was quite overcome and they went through every piece and learnt -its history.</p> - -<p>“I cannot help liking nice things,” said Aline.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p> - -<p>“And why should you not?” exclaimed the old woman; “it is only vulgar -when you put dress before other things or think about it every day. Old -Mistress Mowbray,—your grandmother, my dear,” turning to Audry, “used -often to say that it was the mark of a lady to dress well but simply -and not to think much about it.”</p> - -<p>“I should much prefer simple clothes except for great occasions,” said -Aline, “if only for the sake of making the great occasion more special; -but even then I like the rich broad effects that father used to talk -about with long lines and big masses and full drapery rather than -elaborate things. Some of these newer styles I do not like at all.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I agree with you,” Audry chimed in, “but I should like to wear -velvet other than black, and I have always longed to have some ermine.”</p> - -<p>“Well, unless they alter the laws of the land for your benefit, -childie, you will have to marry a baron; but you should be thankful for -what you have got. I should soon be tried in the court<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14" href="#Footnote_14_14" class="footnote">[14]</a> if I started -wearing black velvet,” said Elspeth.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14" href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="anchor">14</span></a> The sumptuary laws regulated what each rank was allowed -to wear.</p></div> - -<p>“Does your ambition soar to diamonds and pearls, Audry?” asked Aline, -laughing.</p> - -<p>“No, I will leave them to the princesses and duchesses. But look here, -Aline,” said Audry, with an air of triumph, picking up a particularly -beautiful smock, “I bought all the material with my own money and made -it every bit myself, and Elspeth says I have done it very well.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span></p> - -<p>“You darling,” said Aline, and kissed her cousin again and again. “Oh, -I do feel so happy.”</p> - -<p>“But you have not finished,” said Audry, “and here’s a parcel you have -not undone.”</p> - -<p>Aline picked it up and turned it over. On it was written:—“From -Mistress Mowbray.”</p> - -<p>“A parcel from Mistress Mowbray; how strange!” and the little smooth -white brow became slightly wrinkled.</p> - -<p>Inside she found a note and a second wrapping. The note ran as -follows,—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">To Aline Gillespie,</p> - -<p class="mb0">Finding that others are concerned about your garments I have made -it my duty to let you have something really appropriate to your -condition at Holwick and that will express the feelings with -which I shall always regard you. I trust you will think of me -when you wear the necklace, although the contents of the pendant -are another’s gift.</p> - -<p class="right2 smcap mt0 mb0">Eleanor Mowbray.</p> -<p class="right mt0"><span class="p120 sans">X</span> Her mark.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>“How does she regard me and what is appropriate to my condition?” -queried Aline as she undid the second wrapper.</p> - -<p>To her astonishment and amusement it contained an old potato-sack -made into the shape of a camise. After what Mistress Mowbray had said -about the coarse dowlas, Aline was half inclined to believe the gift -was genuine. But, as she smiled, there fell out a red necklace made of -small pieces of carrot with an enormous potato as a pendant.</p> - -<p>“Now, whoever has done this?” she cried, breaking into a merry peal and -looking at Audry and Elspeth.</p> - -<p>They both shook their heads.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span></p> - -<p>She examined the potato and found that it had been scooped out and held -a packet very tightly rolled up, within which was a piece of Walter’s -choicest lace. On the packet was written, “To Somebody from Somebody’s -enemy.”</p> - -<p>“From whose enemy?”—said Aline,—“Mine?”</p> - -<p>“‘Who chased whom round the walls of what?’” Audry observed. “I expect -the two somebodies are not the same.”</p> - -<p>“Well, but whom is it from?”</p> - -<p>At this moment Aline caught sight of the upper part of a head trying to -peep round the door. It vanished instantly.</p> - -<p>She paused for a moment and then gave chase down the newel-stairs. -Round and round and round lightly flashed the little feet and she -could hear great heavy footsteps at much longer intervals going down, -apparently three steps at a time, some way below her.</p> - -<p>She reached the bottom just in time to see the figure of Silas dash -into the screens; but he vanished altogether before she had time to -catch him and thank him for what was obviously his gift.</p> - -<p>The next day after dinner Aline ran out gaily across the quadrangle, -lightly reached the eighth step in two bounds, covering the remaining -step and the terrace in two more, and was in the library ready to -prosecute her search. She had a long hunt for the Latin Bible in which -after much diligence she was successful.</p> - -<p>She then thought that she would try the key of the old chest and on -opening it found it half full of ancient parchments concerning the -estate. She discovered that they were quite interesting, but she did -not linger looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> at them just then. The chest was divided one-third -of the way from the front longitudinally up to about half its height -and it was possible to put all the parchments into the front half.</p> - -<p>Aline moved all the papers and then got into the back part of the chest -to see what it felt like, before she did anything else. Just as she did -so, she heard the library door open and her blood ran cold. In a flash -she wondered whether it would be better to get out of the chest or to -shut the lid. She decided on the latter, and was just able to shut -down the lid quietly when she heard the footsteps that had first gone -into the other part of the library turn back in her direction. She had -luckily taken the key in her hand with which the chest could be locked -on the inside and succeeded in fastening it with hardly any noise.</p> - -<p>The steps approached the chest and then a voice said, “I thought Aline -was in here;—and what was that noise?”</p> - -<p>It was Audry’s voice so Aline ventured to laugh.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious, what is that?” exclaimed Audry, and after a click the -lid of the chest, to her still greater astonishment, lifted itself up. -She sprang back and then in her turn broke into laughter, as Aline’s -head emerged from the chest.</p> - -<p>“What a fright you gave me!” said each of the children simultaneously, -and then they both laughed again.</p> - -<p>“You dear thing, Aline,” and Audry flung her arms round her cousin. -“Oh, I am glad that it is you, but you must be very careful about that -kist; I do not think that we had better use it unless one of us is on -guard. How did you find the key?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p> - -<p>“Cousin Richard gave it me; I forgot to tell you, but he does not know -anything about the secret room as, oddly enough, he happened to say, -when speaking of secret drawers, that he did not think that old James -Mowbray had any fancies of that kind.”</p> - -<p>“He would have found that he had rather elaborate fancies of that kind -if he knew what we know, would he not, you little wonder-girl;—what -adventures you do have;—whatever will you drag me into next?”</p> - -<p>“Anyhow I never had adventures till I met you, so perhaps it is due to -you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, you, not I, are the wonder-girl right enough; you have great -adventures by yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Let us come down and see Ian,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“All right; you go down this way,” Audry replied. “I want to know how -it acts; I’ll wait to see you safe down and then I will go round the -other way.”</p> - -<p>“No, you would like to try the new way; I will go round.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, very well.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later the children met again in the secret room, and -Audry explained how simple and convenient the new way was.</p> - -<p>Aline then produced the Bible and after a little talk she read several -chapters, translating as she went.</p> - -<p>It was a new world to the children and Ian watched their faces eagerly -as she read.</p> - -<p>Audry, in her impulsive way, was taken with the simplicity of the -story. Aline, who was an unusually thoughtful child, was surprised, but -reserved her opinion.</p> - -<p>It was the beginning of many such readings. At first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> Ian said nothing; -but, when they had finished reading two of the gospels and began to -ask questions, he talked with them and explained many difficulties. -What amazed Aline was the entire absence of any allusion to any of the -ceremonial that had seemed to her young mind to form so large a part -of religion. Also the simplicity of the appeal, to come directly to -the divine without any intermediary, attracted her greatly in a way -that perhaps it would not have done when the old parish priest of her -earlier days was a really beloved friend.</p> - -<p>Ian was disturbed in mind; he saw that the children were gradually but -surely being influenced and that the old faith would never be the same -again. But it must mean trouble and affliction; the district where they -were was staunchly Catholic, and the measures that Mary’s advisers were -taking were stern and cruel. That little face with its associations of -bygone years, and its own magical attractive power that seemed to hold -all but a few of every one with whom Aline came into contact! How could -he bring lines of pain there? And yet how could he withhold what meant -so much to himself, this which seemed to be a new and living light? -Then that awful vision of George Wishart rose up again before him and -with a vivid intensity he thought he saw the form of little Aline -standing by him in the heart of the flames. There was too that awful -prophecy of the horrible old woman about Aline’s path being through the -fire. Surely there could be nothing in it? The perspiration stood on -Ian’s brow: he caught his breath. Slowly the vision cleared away and -there were the children seated before him. What if things, however, -should come to this! His very soul was in agony torn this way and that.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xii" id="xii"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> -<small>“MOLL O’ THE GRAVES”</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">H</span>OLWICK generally pursued the even tenour of its way from year’s end -to year’s end, with nothing more eventful than a birth, a death or a -marriage. Aline’s adventure therefore, was likely to remain a staple -topic of conversation for many years. But now there was a strange -feeling in the air as though something further were going to happen. An -atmosphere of uneasiness enveloped the place, an atmosphere oppressive -like a day before a thunderstorm. It was nothing definite, nothing -explicable, but every one seemed conscious of it; it pervaded Holwick, -it pervaded Newbiggin on the other side of the river. Ian and the -children were particularly aware of it. The placid life of the Tees -Valley was to be stirred by things at least as striking as Andrew’s -villainy.</p> - -<p>It might have been old Moll’s ravings, it might have been the stirrings -of religious troubles that had started the apprehension; but there it -was, something not immediate but delayed, a presentiment too vague even -to be discussed.</p> - -<p>One day Thomas Woolridge was walking down from the Hall through the -rocky ravine under Holwick Crags. It was a dull grey day with a strong -wind, and the rocks seemed to tower up with an oppressive austerity out -of all proportion to their size. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> in a gloomy frame of mind and -kicked at the stones in his path, sullenly watching them leap and bound -down the hill.</p> - -<p>“Steadily there, neighbour,” said a voice from below, “do you want to -kill some one?” and the head of Silas Morgan, the farm-reeve, appeared -above the rocks beneath.</p> - -<p>“Methinks I should not mind an I did,” answered Thomas, “provided it -were one of the right sort. I am tired of slaving away under other -folks’ orders. Who are they that they should have a better time than I -have, I should like to know?”</p> - -<p>“They all have their orders too, man; who do you think you are that you -should have it all your own way? There is Master Mowbray, now, who has -just set forth to York, because the Sheriff bade him.”</p> - -<p>“And a fine cursing and swearing there was too, I’ll warrant ye,” said -Thomas. “Master Mowbray doth not mince matters when he starts a-going.”</p> - -<p>“No, but he doth not pull a face as long as a base-viol. Thomas, if -so be that I had a face like yours, I would put my hat on it and walk -backwards. Be of good cheer, you rascal, no one doth as he pleaseth -from the Queen’s grace downwards.”</p> - -<p>“That may be so, neighbour, but you’ll not deny that some have an -unfair share of this world’s gear.”</p> - -<p>“No, by my troth, that is so; but I do not see how you are going to set -it right. Besides, oddsfish, man! you would never even get as large -a share as you do, you lazy varlet, if you got what was meet. I have -never seen you do a stroke of work that you could avoid”; and Silas -gave Thomas a dig in the ribs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p> - -<p>“Here now, sirrah, you let me alone,” Thomas said gruffly. “Why should -we not all fare alike?”</p> - -<p>“All fare alike, old sulky face! Not for me, I thank you. I would -not work for a discontented windbag like you. What’s your particular -grumble just now?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not grumbling.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, you are saying what a happy life it is, and how glad you -are to see your fellow creatures enjoying themselves.”</p> - -<p>Thomas lifted a stone and threw it, but Silas jumped aside and it flew -down the rocks.</p> - -<p>“I’m not grumbling so much at the Mowbrays, but at that -Gillespie-wench. There have always been Mowbrays up there; but that -wench, she has nothing of her own, why should she not addle her bread -the same as you or I. One day she had the impertinence to start -ordering me about and made old Edward and myself look a pair of fools. -The old ass did not mind, but I did and I am not going to forget. I am -sick of these craven villagers louting<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15" href="#Footnote_15_15" class="footnote">[15]</a> and curtseying at the minx -and she no better than any of us. She gets on my nerves, pardy! with -her pretty angel face.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15" href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="anchor">15</span></a> The earlier form of curtsey.</p></div> - -<p>“Well, I am glad you admit you are grumbling at something, but you -have less cause to grumble at Mistress Aline than any one in Holwick, -you graceless loon. So here’s something else to grumble at”; and Silas -gave Thomas a sudden push which made him roll over, and then he ran off -laughing.</p> - -<p>“You unneighbourly ruffian. I’ll pay you out,” said Thomas, as he -ruefully picked himself up and started down the steep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span></p> - -<p>He went on to the hamlet and, on his way back, he met Aline, who was -going down to see Joan Moulton. Beyond all expectations, by getting -Audry to sue for her, Aline had arranged that Joan should be moved to -Durham and she was going to pay her last visit.</p> - -<p>“It’s a fine day, Mistress Aline,” observed Thomas as he reached her. -“I hope you are keeping well. The falcon is doing splendidly, I notice. -I shall never forget your kindness to me. By the way, I found some -white heather the other day, and I meant to tell you I took up the root -and transplanted it in your garden.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, was that you, Thomas? You are good; I noticed it at once, but -somehow I thought it was Mistress Audry’s doings. I love white heather.”</p> - -<p>“I am fain it pleaseth you; well, good day, Mistress Aline, there is no -time to waste and some of us have to work very hard betimes.”</p> - -<p>On the way up to the Hall, just before he reached the crags of the -ravine he saw some one else. It was old “Moll o’ the graves.”</p> - -<p>“How now, neighbour,” he said, “I have not seen you for a long time, -but what’s the good of your hocus pocus? Where’s that fine hank of wool -I gave you, and those two cheeses and the boll of meal? That Gillespie -bitch is still running round; and you said that before a year was away -she would be gone. But Andrew’s little play didn’t work, damn the -fellow. She’s alive yet, I tell you,” and he put his hand on the old -woman’s shoulder as though to shake her.</p> - -<p>“Hands off, you coward,” said the old hag. “Why do you not do your own -dirty work? Andrew was worth half a dozen of you. Pah, you devil’s -spawn!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> If you touch me I’ll burn your entrails with fire, day and -night, and send you shrieking and praying for your own death. But I -tell you, that skelpie may not have to die by water. There are other -ways of dying than being drowned. I cannot read all the future, but -you mark my word, and I have never been wrong yet, she will be gone by -the time I named. Little Joan will go as I said; and if we are safely -rid of one you need not fear for the other. The stars in their courses -fight on our side,” and she laughed an evil laugh. “There is no room in -this world for your weak-minded gentle creatures, bah! cowards, worms, -with their snivelling pity. Does nature feel pity when the field mouse -is killed by the hawk? Does nature feel pity when a mother dies of the -plague? Does God feel pity when we starve a child or beat it to death? -Let him show his pity for the victims of disease, for the beings he -has brought into the world, humpbacked, blind, halt, imbecile, ha! ha! -ha! No, the forces on our side are the stronger, and the innocent, the -gentle and loving must go. I hate innocence, I hate love; and hate will -triumph in the end.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I love <em>you</em>, you coward?” and she advanced slowly -as though to clutch his throat with her skinny hand, laughing her -demoniacal laugh. “You are on our side, but you are a worm;—Thomas, I -spit at you, begone.”</p> - -<p>Thomas looked at her in terror and slunk away till the old woman’s -mocking laughter grew fainter. “Faugh! she was mad—mad—what did it -matter? And yet, suppose she took it into her head to put a spell on -him, the same as she had done on little Joan!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> What then? But he would -be even with Aline yet; Andrew was a clumsy bungler, he would see if he -could not secure a more efficient agent.”</p> - -<p>Thomas had allowed his imagination to dwell round his grievance against -Aline until it had grown to colossal dimensions. She could not even -smile on any one without him reckoning it up against her as an offence. -The thing was becoming an obsession with him.</p> - -<p>But what did the old crone mean? Something certainly was going to -happen; did it involve Thomas, or was he himself to be unaffected by -the play of forces? The feeling was unpleasant and he could not shake -it off.</p> - -<p>After meeting Thomas, Aline had gone on to Peter’s cottage. She found -that the dying child was weaker than ever, but she still seemed to -cling tenaciously to life. She raised herself a little when Aline came -in and her eyes shone with an unnatural brightness.</p> - -<p>“I shall never see you any more, Aline,” she said. “And I have several -things that I want to say to you. They are going to take me away. I -know they mean to be kind, yet I would rather have died quietly here. -But listen, it is not about that that I want to talk,” the child went -on excitedly.</p> - -<p>“Hush, dear,” said Aline, taking the small frail hand in her own and -stroking it, “you will tire yourself out.”</p> - -<p>“Can you put your hand under my pillow, Aline? You will find there a -little packet.”</p> - -<p>Aline did as she was asked.</p> - -<p>“Now undo it.”</p> - -<p>She opened the small parcel and found in it half a groat that had been -broken in two, a child’s spinning top and a short lock of dark curly -brown hair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span></p> - -<p>“He was my playmate,” said Joan, “and he used to help me every day to -carry the water from the spring up to the house, and he said that when -he was a big man he would marry me. I know I am going to die soon and -no one loves me but you, so I want to give you my secret.”</p> - -<p>“O Joan, darling, you must not talk like that,” and Aline stooped and -kissed the sad little face on the pillow, while her tears, in spite of -herself, would keep welling up and rolling down her cheeks.</p> - -<p>A faint little smile spread over Joan’s face as her thoughts wandered -away back to the old times in Kirkoswald and talking half to herself -and half to Aline she said: “His name was Wilfred Johnstone. Oh! -Wilfred, Wilfred, if only I could kiss you good-bye! but I shall leave -your top and the half groat and your dear hair with my beautiful little -lady, and some day she may see you and give them back and say good-bye -for me.”</p> - -<p>“O Aline,” she went on, trying to raise herself as she put her arms -round her neck—“give him this kiss for me and say that if I had grown -up I would have been his little wife as I promised”; then, pressing a -kiss on Aline’s lips, she fell back exhausted on the bed.</p> - -<p>“I will do everything you ask,” said Aline, and sat by her for a long -time, but the child did not speak again.</p> - -<p>At last the evening began to get dark and Aline knew she must be -getting home. “Good-bye, sweet Joan,” she said and for the last time -printed a kiss on the child’s forehead. “I wish you could have said -good-bye,” and she turned to the door.</p> - -<p>As she turned Joan’s eyes half opened. “Good-bye,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> she murmured, and -Aline went sadly from the house.</p> - -<p>“They are going to take her away from me and I believe I love her even -more than Audry, but it is all meant for the best. Oh, I hope and I -hope that that horrid old witch was not telling the truth.”</p> - -<p>Aline lay awake for a long time that night thinking of Joan and old -Moll and wondering how she would find Wilfred Johnstone; and when she -slept she still dreamed of her little friend.</p> - -<p>The next morning they carried Joan away on a litter. The journey was -to be made in three stages of a day each. Aline would have liked to -see her off, but unfortunately Master Richard had specially arranged -to take the children with him on a long expedition and make an early -start, and he did not wish any interference with his plans.</p> - -<p>He had been so very kind in making the elaborate arrangements about -Joan’s journey and future welfare that Aline did not like to say -anything, though it cost her a pang.</p> - -<p>They mounted from the old “louping on stone” in the lower courtyard and -were not long reaching Middleton. Master Richard had some business in -Middleton, and afterward they turned up the left bank of the Tees.</p> - -<p>It was another grey day, but the water looked wonderfully beautiful -down below them, and Holwick crags rose majestically away to the left. -The bleakness of the surrounding country enhanced the richness of the -river valley; but the wild spirit of the hills seemed to dominate the -whole.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> - -<p>On the way they passed through the village of Newbiggin. It consisted -almost wholly of rude stone cottages and byres. “We have a great deal -of trouble here,” remarked Richard Mowbray. “They are a curiously -lawless lot; it is not only their poaching but there is much thieving -of other kinds. Their beasts too are a nuisance, straying, as they -pretend, on our Middleton property. A murrain on them! My tenant there, -Master Milnes, is very indignant about it and is sure that it is not -accidental. He also makes great complaint about continual damage to the -dykes. Mistress Mowbray is determined to have the whole nest of them -cleared out.”</p> - -<p>“But the village does not belong to you, does it, Cousin Richard?”</p> - -<p>“No, there are three properties besides mine that meet there, the Duke -of Alston’s, Lord Middleton’s and Master Gower’s.”</p> - -<p>“Then how are you going to do anything?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mistress Mowbray saw Lord Middleton, and he has arranged that his -reeve and the Duke’s shall come over to Holwick and meet Master Gower -and ourselves. I do not expect there will be any difficulty.”</p> - -<p>Aline thought it was rather a high handed proceeding, but she said -nothing. She looked at the little cottages and then her thoughts flew -over to the cottage on the other side of the river that Joan had just -left. She wondered rather pathetically whether nearly all life was sad -like her own and Joan’s and Ian’s. Did every one of these cottages -mean a sad story? It would certainly be a sad story to be turned out -of one’s home. Here was a new trouble for her. “Was it true,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> she -thought, “that all these people were as bad as Cousin Richard supposed?”</p> - -<p>Suddenly Audry exclaimed, “Look—there goes old Moll.”</p> - -<p>As they overtook her she stopped and shook her staff after them, -crying,—“Maidens that ride high horses to-day eat bitter bread upon -the morrow.”</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray did not catch what she said, but Aline heard and again -felt that peculiar shudder that she could not explain.</p> - -<p>A week or two later the words came back to her with bitter meaning -indeed. Joan safely reached her destination and the first news that -came from Durham was hopeful; but shortly afterwards the news was worse -and then suddenly came word that she was dead.</p> - -<p>Aline put the little packet carefully away in the ambry. She did not -tell any one, not even Audry, but some day she hoped to carry out the -child’s request. There was too much misery in the world, she must see -what she could do. Perhaps she might begin by doing something for the -people of Newbiggin. At least she could find out what was the real -truth of the case.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xiii" id="xiii"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<small>COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a fine moonlight night and Ian was pacing up and down by the -side of the stream. He walked very fast, partly because the season was -getting cold and partly to calm his mind. He was agitated concerning -the future and troubled not only about himself but about Aline. He -was now distinctly better in health and felt that he would soon be -well enough to leave Holwick Hall. There were many difficulties. First -there was the immediate danger of getting away unseen. Then when he had -performed his mission in Carlisle there was the problem of the future. -He would be safer in Scotland, but he did not want to be too far away -from Aline. She might need his help.</p> - -<p>Again he felt that sense of apprehension, almost of terror; something -was going to happen, but what? Which way was he to meet it? This -threatening, uncertain atmosphere, what did it portend?</p> - -<p>Aline seemed touched by it. He had not spoken to her about it, but he -had noticed it in her manner; indeed they seemed mutually aware of it -as he looked into her eyes.</p> - -<p>In any case he could not go to his father’s house. Should he go to -Scotland at all? The country he knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> was in great confusion, torn -between her fear of France and the Regent, Mary of Guise, on the one -hand and her hatred of England on the other.</p> - -<p>He was strongly tempted to go and fight, if fighting were to be done, -and the very documents that he carried might be the things that would -bring matters to a head. On the other hand if there were no fighting he -felt drawn to do something more for the faith. He had no home duties -and he hated inactivity. At last he settled the matter. Of course the -papers were to be safely delivered first, but neither the fighting -in Scotland nor Aline’s need for his help could be reckoned on as a -certainty. He would stay in Carlisle and be in reach of both. As for -the reformed faith he had for some time come to the conclusion that the -calling of a packman offered the best opportunities for spreading the -word. This, however, would require money which at present he had not -got. He would therefore try and find work as a smith or a carpenter in -Carlisle until he had saved the money.</p> - -<p>That matter was settled then; and his health was now such that his -departure must not be long delayed. He stood still and looked up at the -clear sky. The roar of the waterfall not half a mile away filled the -silence of the night. It was very peaceful and the hills were bathed in -a sad mysterious beauty. But through all the calm lurked a suggestion -of dread.</p> - -<p>Dare he leave the child behind at all? Yet if he took her he would be -putting her to greater risks every moment than the worst she could -suffer from Mistress Mowbray. Besides how could the expenses be met; -for the scheme would be impossible without horses; as,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> although he -himself could escape alone on foot, immediately Aline disappeared a hue -and cry would be raised? His mind grew tired with thinking and finally -he began to build wild castles in the air, in which he took the child -with him on foot and fought pursuer after pursuer, until he was slain -himself, not however before he had managed to put Aline into a sure -place of safety and happiness.</p> - -<p>He had wandered rather further than usual down the stream and decided -that he had better turn back; moreover it was late and it would soon be -daylight. He retraced his steps until he came within a few paces of the -opening that led to the cave and was intending to enter, when he caught -sight of a dark figure seated under a small birch tree that had found a -sheltering place in this hollow on the bleak moor.</p> - -<p>It was a woman and she was watching him. The shock was so sudden that -he had the greatest difficulty in preserving his presence of mind. He -decided to continue in the direction he was going as though bound on -some definite journey.</p> - -<p>“You like the night-air, stranger, for your travels,” she said in a -shrill voice. She evidently did not mean to let him pass her.</p> - -<p>“Ay, mother,” he said, “a night like this is as good for travel as the -day.”</p> - -<p>He gathered at once who it was from Aline’s description. It was “Moll -o’ the graves,” and she seemed to rivet him to the spot with the gaze -of her unholy, but still beautiful eyes. She was holding a bone in -her claw-like hands and was gnawing the flesh off it. He could not -help noticing that she yet had excellent teeth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> Could she by any -chance know who he was? In any case she had seen him now, so he might -stand and see if he could draw her out. However, she went on,—“I’ve -heard physicians recommend the night air for travellers with a sick -conscience.”</p> - -<p>“Then if that be the case,” he answered, “it might apply to you as well -as to me.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it may,” she said, “but I enjoy the fresh night air for its -own sake:—</p> - -<div class="block-centre"> -<div class="block"> -<div class="verse2"> -<div class="line">O Moon that watches from the sky,</div> -<div class="line">We see strange things, the moon and I.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="noi">crooned the old woman, beating time with her staff.</p> - -<p>“Do you know this part of the world?” she said suddenly.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that I do,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“Then you miss things that are worth knowing. There are all manners -of folk about here from the Master of Holwick to miser Simson, from -bullying Eleanor Mowbray to gentle Janet Arnside, and from tough, -withered, bloodless old Elspeth to fresh tender morsels like Aline that -dropped in the moat,” she said as she grinned, shewing her teeth, “and -I know the fortunes of them all.”</p> - -<p>The old woman was eyeing him keenly, but he managed to betray no -particular interest.</p> - -<p>He thought, however, that he had better move away lest she should ask -him such questions that he would lose more than anything he would gain -from talking to her. He was thankful she had not seen him go into the -cave.</p> - -<p>“I think I must be moving on,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p> - -<p>“Will you not wait and hear your future told?”</p> - -<p>“No, I thank you; that can bide.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not good anyhow,” said old Moll with a vindictive light in her -eyes, “it begins with heartache and goes on to worse.”</p> - -<p>“Good night to you,” said Ian and started up the gully.</p> - -<p>“Are you not coming back to your hiding place in there?” the old woman -called maliciously. “I saw you come out and I shall be sitting here -till you come back.”</p> - -<p>“Horrible old villain,” he said to himself, but he called out, “No, -it’s all right for a temporary shelter, but no one could stay there.”</p> - -<p>Things indeed looked serious, how was he to get back? But he could not -bear the thought of not saying good-bye to the children. Besides they -absolutely must know that part of their secret had been discovered.</p> - -<p>He decided that unless the old hag roused his pursuers he was fairly -safe; he could keep out of sight in bog-holes or the like during the -day. If some one came very near, he must chance it and move on. True -there was some risk, but Aline must know.</p> - -<p>The old woman was in the hollow where she could not see him; so he -crept round and hid himself where he could watch without being observed.</p> - -<p>When daylight came he saw her rise and go into the outer cave; but he -could not see what further she did.</p> - -<p>She then came back and sat down. Hours passed on, but she did not move. -About mid-day she produced a small sack from under her kirtle and -took something out and gnawed at it as before. She did the same again -towards evening.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span></p> - -<p>Ian felt faint and hungry, but determined not to give in, even if he -had to wait another night, though as he would have to go some twenty -miles before he dared ask for food, his plight was becoming desperate.</p> - -<p>He crept quite close to her on the bare chance of her going to sleep in -such a way that he could be quite sure of it and be able to slip past.</p> - -<p>However, toward sunset he heard her mutter to herself,—“Well, I cannot -wait any more, it will be too cold.” She rose and hobbled over to -the cave, where she broke down a light switch and bent it across the -entrance, as though it had accidentally been done by the wind or some -animal.</p> - -<p>She started a step or two down the little gully and then came back to -her resting place and looked about. She picked up three bones. “They -might tell tales,” she murmured, and, hiding them under her mantle, she -walked down toward the river. When she reached the river she threw the -bones into the dark water and watched them sink. But this Ian did not -see.</p> - -<p>When Moll had gone, Ian went back to the secret room. He was -overwrought. This was a new peril for Aline and it made him grasp -what he had not realised before,—that if the children were caught -harbouring a heretic the consequences would be terrible indeed. He must -get away forthwith.</p> - -<p>He went to bed, but he could not sleep. How far had he really been wise -after all, to say anything to Aline about the new faith? She certainly -was a most unusual child, but perplexities and responsibilities might -even be too much for an adult.</p> - -<p>Was not my first instinct right, he argued, children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> are too delicate, -too frail, too beautiful to be flung into the anxieties of life? -There is a good deal to be said even for the priests, he reflected, -responsibility may become too crushing altogether.</p> - -<p>Then too, his own mind was not at ease about the course that things -were taking, either in Scotland or England. On the whole he felt that -the Protestants were nearer the truth, but there was a beauty and a -spirituality of holiness not unconnected with the beauty of holiness -itself, which he saw in the old faith and which he was not willing to -abandon.</p> - -<p>“I would not have a faith without beauty,” he said; “it would be a -travesty of faith, an unlovely thing and no faith at all. If we do not -consider the lilies which we have seen, we shall certainly never be -able to understand the King in his beauty whom we have not seen; and, -of a surety, this child flower hath lifted me higher than any other -experience of my life.”</p> - -<p>But methinks it is meet that both sides should be presented, and some -day we may grow broad-minded enough to learn each from the other.</p> - -<p>He lay awake most of the night so that when the children came down in -the evening he was looking tired and worn.</p> - -<p>They came in slowly, very downcast and sad. Suppose that Ian had -disappeared for good and that they would never see him again! He was -seated where they could not see him at once, but when they caught sight -of him they both rushed forward.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are here safe and sound; what has happened? I am so glad,” -said both in a breath. Each child flung her arms round him and kissed -him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> - -<p>“You will pull my head off if you are not careful,” he said, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you did give us a terrible fright,” exclaimed Aline.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we came and found the room empty,” said Audry, “and we hunted -all down the passage to the cave room; and I wanted to go through, but -Aline said, ‘No, there is evidently something wrong and it might not be -safe, we had better come round outside.’”</p> - -<p>“I am glad you were cautious,” Ian interposed.</p> - -<p>“But first we went down the other passage and found nothing, and then -we set out. Aline said we must be very careful in coming near the cave, -so we crept round very slowly; and suddenly, what do you think we saw?”</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you see?”</p> - -<p>“We saw ‘Moll o’ the graves,’” said Aline, “and we stooped down at once -and then ran away. She did not see us, as the back of her head was -turned our way.”</p> - -<p>“I’m thankful for that,” said Ian, and then recounted his experiences. -He omitted the bone incident, but concluded by saying,—“We must be -careful about that birch twig. She evidently set it as a trap.”</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose that she discovered the inner cave, the cave room -itself?” asked Audry apprehensively.</p> - -<p>“Not at all likely,” said Ian. “She cannot stand up straight even; -besides she was not there long enough; of that I am certain.”</p> - -<p>Audry gave a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>“But she may tell other people,” said Ian. “You must keep your ears -open very carefully.”</p> - -<p>It was an awe inspiring prospect, the future certainly was not -reassuring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span></p> - -<p>In order to give a new turn to the conversation Aline said:—“Do you -know, the day before yesterday I went over to Newbiggin and talked -to several of the people? I did not ask any questions, but they told -me a great deal of themselves. There evidently are some pretty fair -scoundrels in the village, even on their own showing.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“I do not know yet,” she said, “I must find out some more, but I am -tolerably sure that the villains are in the minority.”</p> - -<p>“I do not suppose there is much to choose,” said Audry. “I should let -them all go. Why trouble yourself?”</p> - -<p>“But, Audry,” Aline objected, “you yourself hate unfairness; and I -cannot bear to think of Mistress Mowbray having her own way with those -who are innocent.”</p> - -<p>“I think, also, my princess enjoys some other kinds of fighting than -with foils,” Ian interposed.</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps there’s a little bit in that too; my father was a -fighter.”</p> - -<p>“Somehow, little one,” said Ian, “I cannot help wishing you would -leave it alone. I feel you would be better to have nothing to do with -Newbiggin. It sounds very silly, but old Moll lives in Newbiggin, and I -have a strange dread of it that I cannot explain.”</p> - -<p>“That is very curious,” said Audry, “so have I. There has been -something weighing on me like a bad dream for many days. I cannot -explain it. Aline, dear, you let it alone.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you two would not talk like that,” said Aline, “because I have -had exactly the same feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> and it is most uncanny; but I cannot give -up the Newbiggin people because of my feelings.”</p> - -<p>“Come, let us have some fun,” she continued; “we look as if we had not -a backbone among us.”</p> - -<p>She went to the sword-chest as she spoke and took out a pair of foils. -“Now, this will do my stiffness good, and Audry can act as umpire.”</p> - -<p>They had a good deal of practice since the first encounter. Ian was -really a brilliant master of the art and was much amused at the way -that Aline had completely hoaxed him. Aline made rapid progress and Ian -used to tell her that, child as she was, she would probably be able -to account for a fairly average swordsman, so little was the art then -understood in Scotland or England.</p> - -<p>After a bout or two, they sat down to rest.</p> - -<p>“You know,” said Ian, “I think I ought to be leaving you soon. I am -ever so much better than I was and it would be well for me to be away.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” said Audry, “are you not comfortable here?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I am comfortable,” he said, “but I cannot stay here forever, -it would not be fair to you. Besides it is time that I was doing my -work in the world.”</p> - -<p>“But it would be terribly risky,” said Audry, “and after the narrow -escape you had, I think you might consider you had done your share.”</p> - -<p>“No, because I feel that I have something so valuable for people, that -it is worth any risk.”</p> - -<p>“But look how you have suffered and you will bring the same suffering -to others; in fact you hesitated about telling us.”</p> - -<p>“But that was because you are children, and somehow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> I do not feel that -a child is called upon to undertake such great responsibilities.”</p> - -<p>“I do not see why a child should not judge,” said Aline; “it is all so -simple and beautiful. If it is worth dying for, people should be glad -to have it, whatever the suffering. I think I feel ready to die like -poor George Wishart. So if your going helps other people, even if it -makes us very sad you must go. When do you think you ought to start?”</p> - -<p>“I have a definite errand to undertake. I have never told you about it, -but I am acting as a special messenger with some important papers, and -I have been thinking it over and have come to the conclusion that I -should be leaving here in a week at most, but less if possible.”</p> - -<p>“What, so soon?” exclaimed both the children at once.</p> - -<p>A deeper gloom than ever seemed to fall over the party as this was -said, and although they tried to feel cheerful, they knew it was a poor -attempt. No one spoke for a long time. Ian sat with his head between -his hands and Aline gazed into the empty fireplace at the dead ashes of -the fire that had been lit when Ian came.</p> - -<p>These days with Ian had made the Holwick life far more bearable for -her. There were her Greek lessons and the fencing lessons, but bad as -it would be to lose them it would be worse to lose her friend. He was -generally very reserved with her; but if she was in trouble he always -opened out. She glanced up. Ian had lifted his head and their eyes met. -What would she do without him?</p> - -<p>Audry held one of the foils and drew with it on the floor. The silence -was oppressive.</p> - -<p>At length Aline spoke. “Where shall you go, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> you leave us? You -cannot think how sadly we shall miss you.”</p> - -<p>“I shall probably miss you more than you will miss me, sweet child,” -and Menstrie looked at her with a strange longing pain in his heart. -It was thirteen years since any one person had filled his life as -this child had done, and now he was to lose her. “Surely,” he said to -himself, “life is compact of most mysterious bitterness”; but he tried -to be cheerful for the child’s sake and said, “Never mind, Aline, I -shall come and see you again. I think I shall try and become a packman -like your friend who gave you your necklace, if I can get some money -somehow to begin, and then I can pay many visits to Holwick. I believe -I could disguise myself well enough, as I do not think that any one -here really knows me,—the few that saw me will have forgotten me. We -can meet in this room and I shall be able to bring you news and some -interesting things from far away.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do bring me a chatelaine,” said Audry. “I have always wanted one -and Father has either forgotten or been unable to get it.”</p> - -<p>“Is there anything you would like, birdeen?” said Ian, addressing Aline.</p> - -<p>Aline thought for a moment; why should he bring her things, he was -obviously poor and never likely to be anything else? What was the -younger son of a yeoman who had been a wanderer, a smith and a soldier -of fortune ever likely to have in the way of money? Even her own father -who had been a small Laird had never been able to purchase her the -necklace that he had so desired to do. “I do not want you to bring me -anything,” she answered finally, “if only you can keep yourself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> safe,” -and then she added hesitatingly, “Would a Greek Testament be expensive?”</p> - -<p>“No, not at all,” said Ian. “Would you like one, little angel?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very much indeed; but oh, I am afraid it will be a long time -between one visit and the next, and we shall not know what has become -of you,” and Aline sighed.</p> - -<p>“I think I could write to you sometimes,” he said. “We might get hold -of Walter Margrove, who suggested something of the sort to you, and for -greater security we could make duplicates of the parchment with the -holes that you found in the book. I could write the letter so that it -looked like an announcement of my wares.”</p> - -<p>They discussed the matter for some time and the next day set about -making the parchment slips, and for the following few evenings they -were busy with several preparations. Ian’s clothes all had to be mended -and put in good order and they took some of the clothes that they had -found in the secret room and by slight alterations were able to make -him a second outfit.</p> - -<p>They also found a leathern wallet that with a little patching made a -sound serviceable article.</p> - -<p>Ian further made a suggestion to Aline in case they should have reason -to suspect that the key to their correspondence was known. “Let us take -your name and mine,” he said, “to make the foundation of a series of -letters and we will write the names downward like this—</p> - -<div class="block-centre"> -<div class="block"> -<p class="mb0">A</p> -<p class="mt0 mb0">L</p> -<p class="mt0 mb0">I</p> -<p class="mt0 mb0">N</p> -<p class="mt0 mb0">E”</p> -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> -“Yes, and what next?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Well, after each letter, we will write in order the letters in the -alphabet that follow it. After A we will write B C D E F G, and after -L we will write M N O P Q R, and whenever we get to Z we start the -alphabet again. So if we write our whole names it will look like this—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span></p> - -<table summary="Code"> -<tr> -<td>A.</td> -<td>B</td> -<td>C</td> -<td>D</td> -<td>E</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>L.</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I.</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>N.</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -<td>S</td> -<td>T</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>E.</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>G.</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I.</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>L.</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>L.</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>E.</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>S.</td> -<td>T</td> -<td>U</td> -<td>V</td> -<td>W</td> -<td>X</td> -<td>Y</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>P.</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -<td>S</td> -<td>T</td> -<td>U</td> -<td>V</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I.</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>E.</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I.</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A.</td> -<td>B</td> -<td>C</td> -<td>D</td> -<td>E</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>N.</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -<td>S</td> -<td>T</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>M.</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -<td>S</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>E.</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>N.</td> -<td>O</td> -<td>P</td> -<td>Q</td> -<td>R</td> -<td>S</td> -<td>T</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>S.</td> -<td>T</td> -<td>U</td> -<td>V</td> -<td>W</td> -<td>X</td> -<td>Y</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>T.</td> -<td>U</td> -<td>V</td> -<td>W</td> -<td>X</td> -<td>Y</td> -<td>Z</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>R.</td> -<td>S</td> -<td>T</td> -<td>U</td> -<td>V</td> -<td>W</td> -<td>X</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I.</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -<td>L</td> -<td>M</td> -<td>N</td> -<td>O</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>E.</td> -<td>F</td> -<td>G</td> -<td>H</td> -<td>I</td> -<td>J</td> -<td>K</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p class="noi">Now there are 25 letters in each column, and if we just put a -number at the top of our communication, we shall know where we are to -begin to use the sequence.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Aline, “if the number is 51 we shall begin at the top of -the third column; if it is 56 we shall begin 6 letters down the third -column.”</p> - -<p>“And if it was 176,” said Ian, “what should we do?”</p> - -<p>“Well, we should have to make another column the same way and we should -begin at the top of it.”</p> - -<p>“Now suppose the number is 1, we shall then begin at the very -beginning, and the way we should use the letters would be like this. -Suppose this is the message,—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>“Arthur Melland wishes to notifie the good people in the Lothians -of the lasting excellence of his wares. His pack is regularly -filled with all the newest materials and, too, all is most -marvellously finished in design.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p class="noi">Our first letter was A, and the first A we find is the A of -‘Arthur.’ Our second letter was L, and the next L that we find is in -‘Melland.’ Our third letter was I and the next I that we find is in -‘wishes.’ Our fourth letter was N and the next N that we find is in -‘notifie.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s quite easy,” said Aline, “and so you mark them all like -this—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<i>A</i>rthur Me<i>l</i>land w<i>i</i>shes to <i>n</i>otifi<i>e</i> the <i>g</i>ood people -<i>i</i>n the <i>L</i>othians of the <i>l</i>asting <i>e</i>xcellence of hi<i>s</i> -wares. His <i>p</i>ack <i>i</i>s r<i>e</i>gularly f<i>i</i>lled with <i>a</i>ll the -<i>n</i>ewest <i>m</i>at<i>e</i>rials a<i>n</i>d, too, all i<i>s</i> mos<i>t</i> ma<i>r</i>vellously -f<i>i</i>nished in d<i>e</i>sign.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p class="noi">and then cut them out.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Ian, “and the only other thing necessary is that the paper -should first be neatly ruled with quarter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> inch squares, and each of -the key letters carefully written in a square. It does not matter about -the others. But then when the receiver gets the letter he knows that -the squares to be cut must be exactly an even number of quarter inches -from the edge of the paper.”</p> - -<p>“I hope I shall remember it if needful,” Aline said.</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“Why not?” exclaimed the others in astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Because I hope it won’t be needed and that would certainly be -simpler.”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xiv" id="xiv"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<small>GOOD-BYE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE days slipped by all too quickly and the children spent every -available moment in the secret room. But it was not very safe for them -to disappear from sight too often and moreover, other obligations had -to be fulfilled. Sometimes they were able to arrange that one should -remain with Ian while the other was occupied elsewhere.</p> - -<p>On one of these occasions, while Audry was in the secret room, Aline -went down to the Arnsides. On the way she met Father Laurence coming -up from Middleton. It was an unusual thing for him to come to Holwick -and Aline was surprised. “Good day, Father,” she said, as she dropped a -curtsey.</p> - -<p>“Bless you, my child,” said the old man, looking at her keenly, “talium -enim est regnum <a name="comma2" id="comma2"></a><ins title="Original does not have comma">dei,</ins>”<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16" href="#Footnote_16_16" class="footnote">[16]</a> he whispered softly to himself. “How -profound Our Lord’s sayings were. Yes, it does one good even to look at -a child,” and then he noticed that Aline seemed sad and troubled and -lacked her usual buoyant vivacity. “Are you not happy, little maiden?” -he said gently.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16" href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="anchor">16</span></a> For of such is the kingdom of God.</p></div> - -<p>Aline looked at him with an expression of wonder; “No, not exactly,” -she said.</p> - -<p>“What is it, my child?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, many things, Father; the world is difficult.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span></p> - -<p>They had drawn near to the side of the road and Aline was leaning -against the wall; she plucked the top of a tall ragwort and began -pulling off its yellow petals one by one.</p> - -<p>The priest put his elbow on the wall and looked down at her. He was -very tall indeed, with a rather thin face and deep sad eyes. He at once -saw that she did not want to tell him her troubles and he had too much -instinctive delicacy to press the child. He laid his disengaged hand -kindly on her head, and she looked up at him.</p> - -<p>“Strange,” he thought, “I might have had such a child of mine own; but -no, it was not to be. Yes, I know what sorrow is: I have indeed made my -sacrifice.</p> - -<p>“All things work together for good, Aline,” he said aloud, “the forces -of good must win in the end, but the powers of darkness are strong and -the victory may be long delayed; yet it will come.”</p> - -<p>“But the world is cruel, Father,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my child, I know, and the world often seems to be victorious; but -it is only victorious in the things of the world. The principle of love -and the principle of beauty will outlast the world,” and he smiled a -sweet smile.</p> - -<p>Aline gazed into his face and he seemed to be looking into the things -beyond.</p> - -<p>“Be of good courage, little maiden, fear not them that have power to -hurt the body. The Lord be with you, and may the Mother of God watch -over you; farewell.”</p> - -<p>He turned as he spoke and Aline saw him cross over to the cottage of -Benjamin Darley. She went on to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> Arnsides and found both mother and -son at home.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Honey,” said the old woman, “it is good to see your bonnie face, -it’s a sight for sair een.”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Aline is not looking very well, mother,” said John.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, John,” said Aline, and added brightly,—“I have come to ask -you all you can tell me about Newbiggin. I know I can trust you.”</p> - -<p>“Dear heart,” said Janet, “you do us honour.” She skilfully lifted the -peats with the long tongs and rearranged them on a different part of -the hearth and soon there was a bright fire.</p> - -<p>“That’s a merry blaze,” said Aline; “it seems to cheer one’s heart.”</p> - -<p>For an hour they sat and talked about Newbiggin; and the child, with -what she already knew, was able to make a shrewd estimate of the true -state of affairs.</p> - -<p>After a while the subject not unnaturally turned to “Moll o’ the -graves” and Aline was dismayed when she heard that Moll had been -talking about seeing a man on the moors, and saying that it would be -the beginning of troubles.</p> - -<p>“What did she mean by that?” asked Aline.</p> - -<p>“She would not explain,” said Janet; “she refused to tell any one -anything more. ‘The time is not yet, the time is not yet,’ she kept -repeating; ‘when all is ready and I have discovered the workings of the -fates, I will tell you more than you wish to know.’”</p> - -<p>“People have gossiped about it a great deal,” Janet went on, “but Moll -will say nothing further.”</p> - -<p>“I trust that her evil desires may be foiled,” said Aline, “but I must -not tarry.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span></p> - -<p>As she went up the street she again met Father Laurence coming out of -Peter’s cottage and he seemed more sorrowful than ever.</p> - -<p>“Peace be with you, Aline,” he said. “I have a right melancholic thing -here,” holding out a letter. “But it cannot grieve thee beyond what -thou already knowest. It is a letter from Durham, long delayed in -transit, concerning the death of little Joan. Will you read it or shall -I?”</p> - -<p>Aline’s eyes filled with tears, “I should like you to read it,” she -said.</p> - -<p>Father Laurence then read—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">“To Peter Simson in Holwick</p> - -<p>“It beseemeth me to send thee word, although my heart is right -heavy within me, of the passing of the small damsel y-cleped<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17" href="#Footnote_17_17" class="footnote">[17]</a> -Joan, who came from Upper Teesdale. Of this you will have already -heard: but my sister was herself sick of an ague at the time and -Sir Robert Miller, her confessor, saith that her mind wandered. -He writeth this for me. She herself lingered not many days,—God -rest her soul,—and, when I came from Skipton, where I dwelled, -she was buried.</p> - -<p>“I only know from a neighbour that the damsel had gained health -until latterly and that the end was on a sudden. She spake much -of the young lady at the Hall, who had given her great bounty; -and in especial would she have the shoon and the belt returned, -which were new. But these same I cannot find, and methinks they -must have gone to Newcastle with the other orphans who were in my -sister’s house, and whom the good dame who came thence to nurse -my sister, took home in her charge, and may our Lady requite her -kindness.</p> - -<p>“An thou wouldst speak to the Mistress Alice or Ellen,—the name -escapeth me,—I would give thee much thanks.</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Parry.</span>”</p> -</blockquote> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17" href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="anchor">17</span></a> Named.</p></div> - -<p>“But I never gave her any shoes or belt,” said Aline. “Poor little -Joan, her mind must have failed her at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> the last, or Mistress Parry -must have been as much in error as she was about my name. She was a -dear child,” she continued, “and it is bitter dole<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18" href="#Footnote_18_18" class="footnote">[18]</a> to me. I have -burned a few candles for her soul, but I have not much means.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18" href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="anchor">18</span></a> Grief.</p></div> - -<p>“Trouble not thy gentle heart,” said the old priest, “I will myself say -mass for the child, and no one shall be at any charge. God keep thee, -Aline, as he may.”</p> - -<p>When she reached the Hall she went to Ian and Audry and told them what -she had learned, and they were much disquieted at the evil speaking of -old Moll; but there was nothing that they might do and they could only -hope against hope.</p> - -<p>Ever since hearing the letter that Father Laurence had read, the sad -figure of little Joan had floated before Aline’s eyes, and that night -she went to the library and opened the ambry and took out the little -packet and gazed at the pathetic contents. “I wonder whether I shall -ever be able to find the boy, Wilfred Johnstone,” she said. “But I -expect he will have forgotten already, boys never remember long,” and -then she recalled a remark of her father’s,—“A boy remembers longer -and is more constant than a girl, unless he has won her; but after she -is won she is the more faithful.” “I should like to know if that be -true,” she thought.</p> - -<p>At length the evening came when Ian had to start. It was a fine bright -night as the three made their way down the secret passage for the last -time.</p> - -<p>“How strange it has all been,” said Aline, “since we first discovered -the secret room and this passage. What a different thing life means to -me from what it did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> then!” She was leading the way carrying the wallet -containing the food, while Audry carried a staff and a big heavy cloak.</p> - -<p>“It has been a wonderful time for me,” said Ian, “and I can never -realise to the full the marvellousness of my escape or your great -kindness to me. I feel that God must have arranged it all, just because -it is so strange. I seem to have every little incident written in -undying characters in my mind, and I could recall almost every word of -your conversations with me. Even if we never meet again, you will live -with me always.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you will come back and we shall meet again,” Audry -interrupted, “you must not talk like that.”</p> - -<p>“I hope that I shall,” he said, but the tone of his voice was so sad -that no one spoke again till they came to the cave-room.</p> - -<p>They lifted the stone and Ian climbed down first and then lifted the -two through the opening. As he held Aline in his arms a great wave -of feeling nearly overcame him altogether. For the moment he felt as -though he could not put her down; it was like voluntarily parting with -all that made life precious. He clasped her tightly to him for a moment -and then he set her very gently on her feet. It was not too dark to see -her face, and as he looked at it he realised that he had never seen it -more sad and yet it had never looked more beautiful. The light was not -bright enough to see the colour, but he could just discern something -of its richness in the gleam of her thick long wavy hair, reaching far -down below her waist. They all found it very difficult to speak and -the children wished him a safe journey and a happy issue with very -trembling voices.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p> - -<p>“Think of me sometimes,” he said, “when I am gone, and pray for me. May -God be with you and do more than I can ever ask in my feeble prayers.”</p> - -<p>He kissed both the children, and holding Aline’s little face in both -his hands he said,—“Oh, if I could only do something for you, little -one, I could be happy, no matter what it cost. Somehow I feel that we -shall never meet again in spite of what Audry says; still that does -not make it impossible for me to do something for you. Remember that I -shall always be living in the hope that some such chance may come and -that the greatest pleasure you can give me is to let me use myself in -your service. But now I must go.” He kissed her once again and then -took the cloak, staff and wallet and strode into the darkness; which -soon closed round him and hid him from their sight.</p> - -<p>After he had gone a hundred yards or so across the moor, he paused; it -was almost more than he could bear; so he knelt down and prayed that -all good things might come to Aline and, if it were not selfish to ask -it, that it might be given to him to suffer on her behalf,—some pain, -some sacrifice, some physical or mental anguish, that might directly -or indirectly add to her joy or lessen her sorrow. After this he felt -strengthened and even elated at the thought of the suffering that he -hoped would come. It was not enough to give her happiness, the more it -would cost him, the more he would welcome it.</p> - -<p>He walked as fast as the light and the nature of the ground would -permit, and when the morning dawned he had passed the wild cataract of -Caldron Snout and was on the spurs of Knock Fell.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xv" id="xv"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> -<small>THE TERROR OF THE MIST</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a raw, damp morning and the day struggled up with difficulty. -Ian was very tired as it was long since he had made any continuous -physical effort and, anxious as he was to make progress, he felt that -he must rest. He sat down by a stream and opened his wallet and broke -his fast, while he thought out what would be the best road for him to -take. So far he had been sure of the way from Audry’s description, -but he was a little more doubtful about his ability to find the route -further on and yet, if possible, he did not wish to ask questions of -any one he met. He was just able to distinguish the sun rising through -the mist and hoped that the day would brighten. From this he calculated -that the wind which was very steady was from the northwest.</p> - -<p>He knew that, when they were hunting him before, a description of -him had been sent as far as Alston and Kirkoswald; so he determined -to try and reach Carlisle without going through these places. In -Carlisle people had more things to think about; and the incident of his -escape, even if news of it had travelled so far, would by this time -be forgotten. Moreover a stranger in the great border town would not -arouse any curiosity.</p> - -<p>He therefore decided that he would keep along by the highest ground -following the ridge of summits. This he knew would ultimately bring -him to Cold Fell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> where the drop on every side is very marked and -whence, if he had not seen Carlisle itself before, he could drop down -by Naworth or Brampton.</p> - -<p>After a long rest he turned up the steep. Unfortunately the mist, -instead of lifting, grew thicker until he had nothing to guide him -but the wind and the general lie of the ground. Used as he was to the -hills, he always felt the eeriness of the mist seething and curling and -scurrying over the heather. It was bitterly cold as the wind was strong -and the mist grew so thick that he could only see the ground for a few -paces. He was afraid of coming suddenly upon the precipice of some -corrie or cross-gully. He had heard too of the terrible “pot” holes in -the limestone district, and pictured himself falling down into one of -those black bottomless chimneys, where even his body would never be -seen again.</p> - -<p>He decided to strike straight up for the top, even though it was more -fatiguing, and he followed the steepest line of the ground, scrambling -over the rocks where necessary. He started violently as he suddenly -heard the scream of an eagle somewhere near him in the mist, and later -on he was surprised actually to come upon one tearing the body of a -grouse. The great bird rose and hit him, whether intentionally or not -he was not sure, but he shrank involuntarily and the sight of the small -mangled victim stirred his heart. “Why was the world of birds and men -so essentially cruel?” “Poor little Aline,” he thought, as he looked at -the little bird.</p> - -<p>When at last he reached the height he was met by an icy wind of -tremendous force from the weather side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> of the hill and it was only -with extreme difficulty that he could keep his footing. Using the wind -as his guide he decided on a place where the gradient was less and the -direction right as far as he could judge and trusted that this would be -the col between the summits.</p> - -<p>It was anxious work and at last he began to feel that he had descended -too far. He had missed the col. He was lost. Although better in health -his nerves were still shaken. For a moment he half broke down. “Oh, -if I could only see you once again, Aline,” he cried, “and you will -never know that months afterwards the shepherds found the remains of -an unknown man upon the hills.” He peered into the mist as though by -strength of will he would force its secret. It was vain, the mist was -blankly impenetrable. Under ordinary circumstances he was too good -a hillsman to mind and would simply, worse come to the worst, have -followed down stream till he came to the haunts of men, but it was a -matter of life and death to him now not to come down the wrong valley. -Moreover, there were the precious papers, for which he had already -risked so much.</p> - -<p>Gradually he recovered, but what was he to do? Which side had he gone -wrong? He stood and reflected for a moment. The direction of the wind -seemed all right, but it was very much less in force. Surely then he -was to the east of the col. Oh, if only the mist would lift, but it -still raced past, with its white swirling, cruel fingers. The wind -sighed sadly in the rank, red tinted grass, and away below he heard the -falling of many waters and the endless bleating of sheep. Every now and -then some gigantic menacing forms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> would seem to shape themselves out -of the mist;—they danced round him, they pointed at him, they mocked -him. They were trolls, they were the spirits of death, the lost souls -of the sons of men. A brooding horror seemed to sweep over the desolate -hillside, chilling him with a nameless dread. He turned a little -further into the wind and the ground grew more wet and mossy. This must -surely be somewhere below the middle of the col, he argued, and he -struck still more to the left.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he came upon a sight that froze his marrow. It was the -skeleton of a child,—some poor little wanderer who, like himself, had -been lost and who never had returned home. The wind whistled through -the small slender bones. They were quite clean, save for a little hair -clinging to the skull, from which Ian guessed that it was a boy. He -might have been ten or twelve years old. How had he come there? What -had brought him to his fate? The clothes had entirely gone save one -little shoe. Ian picked it up, looked at it and shivered. Oh, the -horror of it! Then the mood changed and he found himself filled with -unutterable pity. “Poor child, poor child,” he said; “another victim -of a heartless world.” He knelt down and laid his hand on the small -skull and his emotion overcame him. Then he gathered the bones together -and carried them to a small hollow under a great rock. As he was doing -this, his fingers came across something in the grass. It was a small -wallet or purse. When he had taken all the bones he managed with some -difficulty to cover them with earth and then he built up a little cairn -of stones. The small shoe he put with the bones, but the wallet he took -with him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span></p> - -<p>With very mingled feelings he struggled up the slope and at last to -his great relief he felt the icy blast of the northwest wind, with -the ground sloping upward in the right direction. He decided to make -for the very summit, the better to check his position, and at last he -reached the point and then cautiously made his way in the same manner -to what he believed was Cross Fell.</p> - -<p>It was very slow work and the ground was very wet and heavy; he was -footsore and stiff from lack of practice and when the evening began to -close in he had made absurdly little headway.</p> - -<p>At last he felt he could go no further and must spend the night upon -the hills. He climbed over the ridge to the leeward side and dropped -until he came to the heather line, where he found a dry hollow between -some rocks. Tearing up a quantity of heather he made himself a bed to -lie on and sat down on the soft extemporised couch. Then he opened the -little wallet or pouch that he had found by the skeleton. It contained -some knuckle bones and a piece of cord; but with them was a wonderful -bracelet of peculiar workmanship. Ian judged it to be Keltic of a very -remote date as it somewhat resembled work that a friend had found in -the Culbin sands. An inscription and other alterations had been made at -a later date.</p> - -<p>The design was in bold curving shapes that expressed the very spirit -of metal. Most remarkable were three large bosses of a strange stone -of marvellous hue; they were a deep sky-blue, brilliantly clear and -transparent, but with a slight yet most mysterious opalescence in the -colour. He had never heard of such a stone and there was something -almost uncanny about the way they shone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> in the dim light. Whether they -were original or substitutes for enamel or amber he could not tell.</p> - -<p class="mb0">The inscription ran:—</p> - -<div class="block-centre"> -<div class="block"> -<div class="verse2"> -<div class="line">WOE TO WHO STEALETH ME</div> -<div class="line">PEACE TO WHO FINDETH ME</div> -<div class="line">BUT WEAL WHERE I COME AS A GIFT OF LOVE.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was a marvellously beautiful thing and Ian could not help -speculating how the boy had come by it. “If these charms and amulets -really had any power, he might well have stolen it,” he thought, -shuddering at what he had seen. “But that is a thing we shall never -know. However, it would be a pleasing gift for Aline, and some day I -will clasp it myself on that little white wrist.”</p> - -<p>He pictured Aline to himself wearing the bracelet and then rolling his -cloak about him went to sleep.</p> - -<p>For a few hours he slept well and then he woke with the cold. He was -very tired and sleepy but unable to sleep again for the pains which -shot through him. The miserable night seemed endless, he tossed and -dozed and tossed again, but at last the dawn broke. It was still misty -but he was anxious to get on. He opened his wallet and found it was -getting low; there was enough for two fair meals, but he divided it -into three portions and took one.</p> - -<p>The wind had dropped but he had taken the precaution of marking its -direction on the ground before he slept. However, that would not avail -him long. He wondered what Aline was doing. He was sure that somehow -Providence had intended him to help her. Suppose he had done wrongly -and should meet his death and deprive her of his aid! Why was life so -continually perplexing?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p> - -<p>When he started to move, his swollen blistered feet made every step -painful, but gradually he became more used to it and struggled on -mechanically.</p> - -<p>He was going very slowly, although it was down hill, and it was with -joy that in rather less than four hours he came across a mountain track -running according to his guess east and west. “This must surely be the -road from Alston to Kirkoswald,” he said, and feeling more or less -reassured he sat down. But he was so worn out from fatigue and lack of -sleep that he almost at once fell into a deep slumber.</p> - -<p>When he awoke he found a shepherd-boy looking at him. “You sleep -soundly, Master,” he said; “whither are you bound?”</p> - -<p>“I am going to Carlisle,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“I have been in Carlisle once,” said the boy. “It’s a fine town, with -bonnie sights; but that was not yesterday. I spend all my time with the -sheep and it is rarely that I get a chance for such things. No, it’s -not much pleasure that they let come my way,” he added dolefully.</p> - -<p>Ian looked at the boy, who had a fine face and was well proportioned -in length of limbs and figure, but thin and ill nourished, with hollow -cheeks and angular shoulders. “I am afraid they do not feed you over -well,” he remarked.</p> - -<p>“Not they,” said the lad,—“I get my brose in the morning and none too -much of that and then generally I get some more brose in the evening.”</p> - -<p>“Do you get nothing all day?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“Would you like something to eat now?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> - -<p>The boy’s eyes lit up as Ian undid his wallet. “Surely,” he said.</p> - -<p>Ian gave him all that the wallet contained and smiled with pleasure as -he watched the boy ravenously devour every morsel. It was the first -glow of satisfaction that Ian had had since he left Holwick.</p> - -<p>As the boy munched away Ian thought he might get what information he -could; at least he would know how much more road there was before him, -which was advisable now that he had nothing whatever left to eat.</p> - -<p>“Do you know the names of the hills?” he asked casually, as though -hunting for a topic of conversation.</p> - -<p>“Why, of course,” said the boy. “Black Fell is up that way and Cross -Fell is over there. If it was a clear day you could see the hills in -the west too, Skiddaw and Blencathara and Helvellyn, and all the rest -of them.</p> - -<p>“I wish I was going with you to Carlisle,” he added somewhat wistfully; -“a city is better than the hills; not that I do not love the hills,” -he continued, “but an apprentice gets more to fill his stomach than a -shepherd lad, leastways than one who has no father and mother and who -works for Farmer Harrington.”</p> - -<p>Ian’s heart always went out to children and this gaunt but rather -handsome boy interested him not a little. “How old are you,” he asked, -“and what is your name?”</p> - -<p>“My name is Wilfred Johnstone and I shall be twelve come Martinmas.”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to be apprenticed in the city and do you know anything -about it?”</p> - -<p>“That should I,” he answered; “I should like to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> a carpenter like -Johnnie o’ the Biggins, whom they sent to Thirsk last year. Some day -he will be a master carpenter and be building roofs and houses and sic -like bonnie things.”</p> - -<p>“But, Wilfred, what would Farmer Harrington say if you left him?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I cannot tell but he would not have cause to say much, for the -way that he treats the men and the lads that work for him. I very -nearly left him and tramped into Carlisle last week; but it’s hard to -become an apprentice if you cannot pay your footing.”</p> - -<p>Ian had two or three gold pieces left, so he took out one and gave it -to the boy. “That will enable you to get to Carlisle, and back again -if need be, and stay a while anyway to see if you can find a place. I -might be able to help you if you can find me. See the sheep are all -right to-night and then come along. I shall be about the market cross -most days at noon, and if you do not find me the money will take you -back.”</p> - -<p>The boy’s eyes grew round with astonishment. He took the money and -tried incoherently to express his thanks, and then after a pause he -asked, “What’s your name?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, call me James Mitchell; but look you,” Ian added, “do not tell a -soul about meeting me or ask for me by name in Carlisle. I cannot help -you if you do. Promise me.”</p> - -<p>The boy looked Ian squarely in the face and held out his hand. “I -promise,” he said.</p> - -<p>Ian grasped the hand and felt the magnetism of a mutual understanding, -the boy was clearly honest and true and would keep to his word. “Well, -good-bye and God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> be wi’ ye,” said Ian, and turned away northward.</p> - -<p>After they parted Ian kept along in the same manner as before and to -his great gladness the mist towards evening began to lift. But he was -faint and famished and felt weak from want of food. The sleep had done -him some good, but he had slept too long and lost most of the day. -He felt a little less melancholy after he had seen the boy, but he -was still very depressed. His mind ran on old Moll and her talk about -the spirits of darkness. Consequently it was a distinct shock when he -caught sight of a gigantic figure looming through the mist and striding -along a little below him as though seeking a place so as to come up -on his level. It was many times larger than himself and in the dim -curlings of the mist had a most terrifying aspect.</p> - -<p>Ian began to run but the figure started running also. At last he stood -still and the figure stopped and turned towards him. For a moment his -brain, dizzy with hunger, contemplated a fight with this supernatural -being. He mechanically grasped his staff and raised it, and the figure -did the same.</p> - -<p>Then the tension relaxed and Ian laughed. It was the brocken, the -strange spectre of the hills formed by the distorted shadow of his own -figure on the mist! In all his hill-travelling this was the first time -he had ever seen it; and, although he laughed, the little incident had -not helped to steady his nerves. “It has, however, one advantage,” he -said; “I now know my direction from the position of the sun.”</p> - -<p>Then suddenly the mist broke and there before him was revealed a -glorious view. The sun was setting in a crimson glory and the hills of -Cumberland, still cloud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> capped, were flushed with delicate colours. He -was below Blacklaw Hill, and Cold Fell blocked the view to the north. -Immediately in front was the great plain of Carlisle and beyond that -the waters of the Solway. Far on the left a silver glitter showed the -position of Ulleswater. It was radiantly beautiful and the more so, -because of the contrast with the cold and darkness of the mist.</p> - -<p>He decided that on the whole he had better keep to the hills, but it -grew dark and he had to spend another cheerless night on the high -ground, which was made worse by the gnawing hunger; but somehow his -spirit seemed brighter, and in spite of the cold and pain he did not -feel so unhappy.</p> - -<p>When the morning broke, he set off with a light heart to Brampton, -where he secured food without being asked any question and in the -evening he found himself in Carlisle.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xvi" id="xvi"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<small>A DESPERATE TASK</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN Ian reached Carlisle he secured himself a room at the old hostelry -near the Cathedral, sent a message into Scotland that he had arrived, -and then spent some days in general enquiries as to the possibility of -getting work. In this he was not very successful, but was more so in -the case of Wilfred Johnstone, whom on the fourth day of his arrival he -met at the Market Cross.</p> - -<p>Ian was sitting watching the people, when the boy came up. He had a -stick over his shoulder with a small bundle containing his belongings.</p> - -<p>“How long have you been in Carlisle?” asked Ian.</p> - -<p>“I have only just arrived,” said the boy.</p> - -<p>“Come along then; we must see what we can do for you. I suppose there -is no likelihood of Farmer Harrington coming to look for you.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know,” said the boy, “and I do not know whether he could -compel me to come back, but he might. I am an orphan and all my folk -are dead. I lived with my Aunt Louisa Johnstone until she died this -winter; she had no children of her own.”</p> - -<p>“Then she was really only your Uncle’s wife.”</p> - -<p>“No, she was my mother’s sister. My name is not really Johnstone, but I -was always called that because I lived with her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span></p> - -<p>“What was your father’s name then?”</p> - -<p>“It was Ackroyd.”</p> - -<p>“So your real name is Wilfred Ackroyd?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Then we can call you Will Ackroyd or Willie Ackroyd, and if Farmer -Harrington comes asking for Wilfred Johnstone, he won’t find him.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, Master.”</p> - -<p>“Come along then, Will. I have found a carpenter called Matthew -Musgrave who is actually in need of a lad, so I think we can settle -that difficulty.”</p> - -<p>Matthew Musgrave was a good hearted fellow, who took kindly to the boy -and the arrangement was concluded. The result was that he also began to -take an interest in the stranger who had introduced him, with the final -issue that James Mitchell, as we must now call Ian, who was remarkably -clever with his hands, used to go round to help Matthew when he was -extra busy; and gradually Matthew found him so useful that he gave him -more or less regular employment.</p> - -<p>He had decided to keep to the name of James Mitchell, which was the -name he had used on the Continent when he fled from England not long -after Mary’s accession. Even his friends in France did not know his -real name. If ever he should return to his own country he would -resume it; meanwhile James Mitchell did well enough. Moreover his -recent captors knew him by his real name and it might be some slight -safeguard. He smiled as he remembered how he had instinctively given -the children his own name. It had seemed the natural thing to do.</p> - -<p>After about a week Erskyne arrived and he was accompanied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> by Mortoun -himself, who hoped to obtain further personal information by word of -mouth, beyond that contained in the documents.</p> - -<p>“I hear you have had some sore delays, James Mitchell,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my Lord, I was imprisoned for some time in York and wounded and -sick and in hiding for over two months.”</p> - -<p>“You are a Scot I understand.”</p> - -<p>“I am, my Lord.”</p> - -<p>“And of the reformed faith?”</p> - -<p>“That is so.”</p> - -<p>“We shall need the services of all good Scots if there is any fighting -to be done. Can we rely upon you?”</p> - -<p>“By my troth, you may, my Lord; I shall be found here.”</p> - -<p>Ian then put the shoes on the table and they ripped them open. The -contents were practically uninjured and they talked till late into the -night.</p> - -<p>As they retired to rest, Erskyne remarked;—“Master Knox has found a -good servant in you, James Mitchell. I am glad to have met an honest -man with an honest heart, ay and an honest face,” he added. “Good -night.”</p> - -<p>The next morning they left early and Ian felt that an epoch in his -life had closed. He also, not unnaturally thought that, having reached -Carlisle in safety and found employment, his adventures were for the -time at an end, but instead of that they were only just beginning.</p> - -<p>Although Wilfred had obtained his wish, he was obviously restless and -unhappy. On several occasions Ian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> had tried to get at the reason, but -the boy was uncommunicative. At last he admitted that it was because he -had left something behind at Master Harrington’s near Kirkoswald.</p> - -<p>“I think I shall go over and get it,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But that would hardly be safe,” Ian objected; “Master Harrington might -not let you have it or let you go again.”</p> - -<p>“It is not in a house,” said Wilfred; “it is hidden in a tree. I could -find it easily in the dark.”</p> - -<p>“How did you come to forget it?” asked Ian.</p> - -<p>“I did not exactly forget it; but I had to slip away in a hurry and -did not dare to go back; besides I thought I might have to return to -Kirkoswald in any case and perhaps it was as safe there as anywhere. I -knew it would be possible to go and fetch it and I must go now.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot but think you are very unwise, Will.”</p> - -<p>“But you do not know what it means to me,” said the boy.</p> - -<p>Ian respected the child’s secret and asked no further. “Well, I shall -be very anxious until you come back; you cannot do it in a day. Where -will you sleep? It is getting late in the year.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I shall manage somehow,” said the boy. “I shall start to-morrow -forenoon, Wednesday, and shall be back on Thursday soon after noon.”</p> - -<p>“Then if you are not back, I shall be very nervous about you and shall -come after you.”</p> - -<p>“No, do not do that, Master; I shall be all right.”</p> - -<p>Ian was not satisfied, but he let the boy set off early the following -morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span></p> - -<p>Wilfred trudged away along the road without mishap, resting now and -then and taking it easily, as he did not want to arrive before dusk. A -little after sunset he arrived at the outskirts of the farm and made -his way cautiously to the hollow tree. He looked round carefully, but -no one was about. He then crept into the tree and felt in the corner -for a pile of stones. In this was concealed a small wooden box. He took -out the box and drew from it a packet wrapped in oiled canvas; within -this was another with the open edges thickly smeared with tallow.</p> - -<p>He took that off also and within was another piece of oiled canvas, -but the packet was now small enough to go into his pouch, where he put -it without opening it. “It would be too dark to see it,” he said to -himself.</p> - -<p>“I think I shall sleep here, it is as good as anywhere.” He waited -until he was certain that no one was about and came out from the tree -to gather leaves with which to make a bed and then he lay down.</p> - -<p>Excitement and cold, however, kept him awake for hours and it was not -till far on in the night that he fell asleep. When he awoke it was -broad day, although still early. “I have slept too long,” he thought; -“it was a pity I did not fall asleep earlier.” He peeped out and there -was nobody in sight, so he softly stole away toward the road.</p> - -<p>But he had not gone fifty yards, before the thundering voice of the -reeve, his particular enemy, called out,—“Hulloo there, I see you -sneaking round, you young thief. But you will not hide from us again, -I’ll warrant.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span></p> - -<p>The reeve started running and Wilfred took to his heels. The reeve was -a powerful athletic fellow, but Wilfred was light and nimble. He dodged -under a fence that the reeve had some difficulty in surmounting, and in -that way gained a little at the start.</p> - -<p>For a time the distance between them did not alter, both were holding -themselves in reserve; then it occurred to Wilfred to turn up hill; -he might not be so strong, but his wind would be better. The reeve -puffed and panted after the boy, who steadily increased his lead. When -Wilfred reached the top of the slope he glanced round, the reeve was -far behind; then he plunged down the hill where there was a burn at the -bottom, and splashed through it with some difficulty, as the water was -up to his waist and the bank on the other side was steep.</p> - -<p>The reeve gained during the process and, being taller, made light work -of the burn and was close behind. Terror lent wings to the boy’s feet -but the reeve slowly overhauled him and could almost reach him with his -arm. Wilfred could hear his loud breathing just behind him, when the -reeve, tripping over a root, not only fell headlong but rolled into a -ditch.</p> - -<p>Wilfred laughed and fled like the wind; there was a thick wood not a -hundred yards away and he would be safe.</p> - -<p>His adversary picked himself up and was just in time to see Wilfred -approaching the wood. He would easily have escaped, but another man -appeared coming out of the wood at the same moment. “Catch him, -Joseph,” yelled the reeve, and the exhausted boy fell an easy prey to -the newcomer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span></p> - -<p>The reeve was considerably hurt by his fall and it greatly increased -his anger. “Where have you been, you young rascal,” he roared, “and -what have you done with the sheep you stole?”</p> - -<p>“I never stole a sheep,” said Wilfred indignantly, “and it is no -business of yours where I have been.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, isn’t it; we’ll soon see about that. Do you know what happens to -boys who steal sheep?” said the reeve vindictively.</p> - -<p>Wilfred was silent.</p> - -<p>“Come now, what happens to boys who steal sheep?” he went on with -malicious glee.</p> - -<p>Wilfred was still silent.</p> - -<p>“You need not be so proud; come answer my question,” and taking the -boy’s arm he twisted it round till the tears stood in his eyes, but he -restrained himself from crying out. “What happens to boys who steal -sheep?”</p> - -<p>“They are hanged,” said Wilfred at last; “but I have not stolen sheep -or anything,” he said doggedly.</p> - -<p>“You can say what you like, but the sheep disappeared and you -disappeared, and here you are sneaking round in the early morning. The -case is as good as proved,” and the bullying ruffian kicked the boy -brutally.</p> - -<p>The two men led him along to the old grange and locked him up in a -small room, high up near the roof.</p> - -<p>Wilfred knew that the reeve had spoken truly. Young lads with no -friends were not of much account, and nothing but a miracle could save -him.</p> - -<p>He sat there for hours, as it were dazed and stunned, and then toward -evening he opened his pouch and took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> out the little packet and -unfastened it. It contained half a groat and a long lock of hair. “Oh, -Joan,” he said, “I wonder what will become of you when I am gone. -I wonder if any one will ever tell you what happened to me. Master -Mitchell was quite right. I should not have come back. No, even for -your sake it was better not to come. For now I have lost everything, -everything. And there was I going to become a carpenter and lay by a -plenty of money and come and marry you when I was big. They say a boy -can’t love,” he said bitterly; “they know nothing about it;—I do not -suppose they know what love is. If only I were dying for <em>you</em>, Joan, I -should be quite happy, but to die for what I have not done...!”</p> - -<p>He threw himself on the floor and sobbed and sobbed until from the -sheer physical exhaustion of the paroxysms of grief he fell asleep.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Ian was anxiously awaiting his return. The strange feeling -that had possessed him ever since the day that Aline had talked about -it in the secret room and that lately had been somewhat less intense, -came back stronger than ever. He could not explain it, he could not -reason about it, he only knew that something terrible was in the air -and that it did not only affect Wilfred or himself. So strong was the -feeling that he did not wait till the next morning. He merely lay -down for a few hours and set off soon after midnight, so as to reach -Kirkoswald at dawn. It was one of the last places where he wished to be -seen, but he seemed to be drawn by fate.</p> - -<p>He had grown a beard while at Holwick and he further disguised himself -before starting by pulling out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> half his eyebrows, which were thick and -bushy, and likewise the hair above his forehead for the space of half -an inch.</p> - -<p>“No one would be able to recognise me, who did not actually know me,” -he said. “I certainly do not answer to any description of myself that -can have been sent around.”</p> - -<p>He went to the different hostels and gossiped with every one. He could -not ask questions at all direct, as that would have raised suspicion. -He began to despair, but at last his patience was rewarded. By good -luck his informant was a young farm hand who had been friendly with -Wilfred and whose sympathies were strongly on his side. Like every one -else, so he told Ian, he was certain that Wilfred had committed the -theft and equally certain that he would be hanged; but in a guarded way -he let it be seen that he strongly disapproved of such extremities.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “they will never take him out of that little top-room -except to his trial and death.” Ian longed to ask where the top-room -was but felt it would be too risky. When the young fellow rose to leave -the hostel, Ian strolled out. “I may as well stretch my legs,” he said.</p> - -<p>He had turned the conversation to other subjects, but, as he had hoped, -they passed the grange and he looked up and remarked casually, “I -suppose that’s where the boy is of whom you spoke.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said his companion, “in the second window.”</p> - -<p>“From the left or the right?” he managed to say unconcernedly; “it’s -strange what scenes may be going on behind a wall and no one know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p> - -<p>“From the left,” said his companion, “the one with the dripstone half -off.”</p> - -<p>“Poor boy!” Ian said; “how foolish to risk one’s life, though, for a -sheep; but other people’s doings are always inexplicable. Where did you -say you lived yourself?” he went on.</p> - -<p>“A quarter of a mile down the path.”</p> - -<p>“Where the oaks are? Those are good trees; there must be some timber -worth having.”</p> - -<p>Ian did not return to the subject of Wilfred and he parted from the -youth as they neared his cottage. He strolled back to the grange. It -seemed a fairly hopeless case, ladders would be impossible without an -accomplice; moreover there was a moat that ran around two sides of the -house and the window was over the moat. Could he try and save the boy -by his own evidence? No, that was useless. It might be of little avail -in any case, and, as he himself was a suspected fugitive it would more -probably destroy any slender chance that there might be.</p> - -<p>He did not dare to linger, but he cautiously inspected the situation -and saw a desperate chance. Away on the far side was a tall elm tree -whose branches came very near the battlement; the tree itself was -unclimbable but another tree whose branches actually touched the first -one seemed to offer an opportunity. It was that or nothing.</p> - -<p>A very long rope was clearly necessary and how to get that without -exciting suspicion was indeed a problem. Ian secured a room in the -principal hostel and looked round the stable yard, gossiping with the -ostlers. When no one was there he found a short length of stout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> rope, -but it was not enough. At last he bethought him of his bed and, on -examining it, he found that the rope carried across and across under -the mattrass was nearly new. This would mean that he would have to come -back to the hostel, but as he had purposely obtained a room on the -ground floor so as to be able to slip out easily, that presented little -difficulty.</p> - -<p>It was a dark night and rain was falling slightly; he undid the -rope from the bed which was in two lengths and spliced them and the -other rope together. As he set out his heart smote him. The risk was -immense. If he were caught it was more than likely he would be hanged; -if he escaped that, there was a very considerable chance of being -recognised as the escaped heretic and then he would be burnt. But, -even without being caught, the operation itself was so dangerous that -it was as like as not that he would break his neck. Was he justified -in risking his life when Aline’s necessities might require him? There -certainly seemed no other chance for the boy; he had thought of all the -obvious possibilities of saving him, but every case was barred by an -insuperable objection less obvious, perhaps, but fatal nevertheless. -“Why am I made so that I always see both sides so clearly?” he said. -“Other people have no such difficulties in making up their minds.”</p> - -<p>It did not occur to Ian that even the difficulty would probably have -presented itself to another man in a different way. Ian’s problem was -merely when and for whom to risk his life; some of us might hesitate -before risking our lives at all. However, after pondering for a while -it suddenly occurred to him that Aline would wish it. That settled it; -the two problems disappeared;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> there was only one problem and that was -to act as carefully as possible. Aline would undoubtedly counsel that -much.</p> - -<p>He crept along very quietly; it was almost too dark; every twig that -cracked, every slight stumble that he made caused his heart to beat -violently.</p> - -<p>Once he started a dog barking and had to remain motionless for a long -time, but the most trying experience was that when he had cautiously -stolen very near to the grange, a figure on horseback rode up and -passed within a yard of him. He stepped behind a tree and saw the door -opened. A flood of light streamed out and before he could get on the -further side of the tree again he felt he must be seen.</p> - -<p>Once more he waited a long time till all was dark and quiet. He climbed -the first tree with less difficulty than he expected, but the branches -of the two trees were further apart than he had thought. Finally he -had to go up higher and lay the rope over a branch and lower himself, -holding the two ends and then, after reaching the other tree, pull the -rope over the branch by one end.</p> - -<p>The rain and the darkness made discovery less likely; but everything -was slippery and the difficulties were greatly increased. Having -climbed up higher he started along one branch but after he had reached -the furthest safe point he found that he was still a long way from the -wall.</p> - -<p>Again he tried a second branch, but, although a little nearer, it was -an awful gulf in the black night.</p> - -<p>A third time he crept slowly along another slippery branch that swayed -and bent under his weight. “Suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> the whole thing should break, elm -trees are notoriously treacherous,” he thought.</p> - -<p>The branch was worse than the second and he had to go back to that one. -This time he managed to wriggle out a couple of feet further, where -the branch gave a sudden turn upward and to the left, parallel to the -face of the wall. He could dimly discern the top of the parapet on a -slightly lower level, perhaps six feet distant. He tied a heavy knot -in the rope and swung it out to hit the stonework, so as to measure -the distance. It was perhaps rather under than over seven feet. But a -seven foot jump from a wet swaying branch, with a forty foot drop in -the pitch darkness was a fearsome task. The thought made him feel quite -sick and the nausea made his brain reel. A slight squall of wind blew -up and the branch rocked and creaked ominously. He had to hold on with -all his strength or he would have fallen.</p> - -<p>When he had recovered himself a little, a thought struck him; he would -double the rope and loop it round the branch and then tie the ends -firmly about him under the arm-pits. The rope was not very strong; but -surely, if doubled, there was just a chance of its standing a sudden -jerk.</p> - -<p>After he had done this, he nerved himself for the last effort, but -before standing up, he prayed for Aline passionately, fervently, as -though the intensity of his prayer should insure its answer. He then -rose and, balancing himself with difficulty, leaped across. He reached -the parapet; but it was wet, while the lichens on it made it like glass -and he slipped down, down, down, into the void.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p> - -<p>He heard a laugh as of a fiend and saw Aline’s face blanched with -pity; there was an awful wrench under his arms and a snap above; one -of the thicknesses of rope had broken;—but he was still alive. He -climbed hand over hand feverishly, without pausing an instant, up the -slimy rope and then held on to the branch, while wave after wave of -uncontrollable terror swept over him. His excitement was so violent -that he feared he would lose his reason. He used all his will power to -bring it under control; but he could not do it. Must he abandon the -attempt, could he ever force himself, there, in the horrible yawning -blackness to go through with it again? His teeth chattered and, do what -he would, his hands shook till he nearly fell again. Then he thought of -Aline and saw her swimming the river, while he rested his wounded arm -upon her shoulder. “Coward,” he hissed through his teeth, “coward. But -oh, Aline, if only it were for you!”</p> - -<p>“It <em>is</em> for her, though you do not see how,” said a voice within.</p> - -<p>Gradually he grew calmer, so that by a supreme effort he forced himself -to tie the broken rope and again stand up. He stooped over to the left, -where the branch turned, and holding on with both hands he kicked the -branch till he broke the bark a little and roughened it. Then he raised -himself upright and putting every ounce of strength and will into the -leap, he cleared the space and landed in a crenellation. He fell and -hurt himself considerably, but what did that matter?</p> - -<p>Untying the rope from himself, he slipped it from the tree and -cautiously made his way round the parapet. He had to climb three gables -and there were other difficulties,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> but at last he was over Wilfred’s -window. He slipped the rope round a merlon<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19" href="#Footnote_19_19" class="footnote">[19]</a> and climbed down and -knocked at the window.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19" href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="anchor">19</span></a> The merlons are the projecting upright portions of a -battlement.</p></div> - -<p>The boy, who was sleeping a light nervous sleep, woke at once and -luckily had the good sense to make no noise. Clearly any one at the -window was a friend; enemies came to the door.</p> - -<p>He rose and went to the window and opened it. “Gramercy, Master -Mitchell, is that you?”</p> - -<p>“Hush, yes,” said Ian, and stepped into the room. He pulled down the -rope by one end and, before doing anything else, properly spliced the -broken piece lest it should catch.</p> - -<p>They then set the bed a trifle nearer to the window and looped the rope -round the bed post.</p> - -<p>“Can you swim, Willie?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“No, Master.”</p> - -<p>“That is very serious,” he said, “as this rope will not stand both of -us, and it is so dark that I cannot first lower you till you just reach -the water.”</p> - -<p>“But I can climb well,” said the boy.</p> - -<p>“That is all right then, but remember the rope is very wet.”</p> - -<p>Ian tied the two ends together and lowered them slowly, till the rope -hung looped at its middle point round the bed post.</p> - -<p>“Now, as you cannot swim I must go first. I only hope the rope is long -enough. It cannot be more than a few feet short anyway, and worse come -to the worst you must take a long breath and drop into the water.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> But -before letting go, when your legs are dangling, grip one end of the -rope and hold it, cut the rope above and the other end will fly up and -we can pull it through. I want to leave no evidence.”</p> - -<p>Ian gave him a knife and then climbed out and gently let himself -noiselessly down the rope. He found that the ends hung about two and a -half feet above the water, just beyond a swimmer’s reach.</p> - -<p>Wilfred then followed, full of apprehension. When near the bottom Ian -whispered,—“Hold on, but let your feet down into the water.” As the -boy’s feet reached the moat, Ian trod water and put his arms up to -him. This reassured him; as the child, who could not swim, naturally -shrank from the plunge into the black deeps in the specially trying -surroundings.</p> - -<p>“Cut the rope, hold the knotted end tight and let go,” said Ian. As the -boy dropped, he caught him and by going under himself prevented the boy -from being completely submerged.</p> - -<p>“Give me the rope,” and Ian pulled down a long length so as to swim -over. “Hold on to me,” and he swam across.</p> - -<p>Just as they reached the bank the short end ran up suddenly, and the -whole rope fell with a loud splash.</p> - -<p>The two fugitives waited fearfully lest it should raise the alarm, but -nothing further broke the silence of the night.</p> - -<p>As they walked, dripping, to the hostel, Ian said,—“I wish you were -not wet, but who would have thought of this? What shall we do?” They -climbed through the window and Wilfred shivered violently, partly with -cold and partly with excitement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p> - -<p>“I shall leave the bed on the floor,” Ian said. “Come, let us get off -your clothes.” He stripped the boy, rubbed him down with a dry towel -and put him into bed. The friction started a warm glow and he was soon -all right. Wilfred asked for his precious packet and while Ian was busy -wringing out their clothes he opened it and dried the contents and put -it under his pillow.</p> - -<p>At four o’clock Ian woke him. “I am so sorry about the wet things, but -you must make for Carlisle at once as best you may.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, I am warm again now, and used often to be wet through all -day, when I was with the sheep.”</p> - -<p>After Wilfred had gone, Ian replaced both ropes and put the bed right. -He stayed in Kirkoswald till nearly evening so as not to attract -attention, and for the same reason went on to Penrith and returned by -the other road to Carlisle the following day.</p> - -<p>He overheard a little of the gossip about the boy’s escape. The most -popular belief was that he had flown out of the window with the devil. -Those who prided themselves on their superior intellects said that some -one had obviously opened the door and hidden him in their house, just -as they had clearly done at his first disappearance. An orphan boy, -however, was not of much value one way or the other, and the thing as a -practical question was a nine days’ wonder; although a favourite topic -of gossip, relating to things mysterious, for many a long day.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xvii" id="xvii"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<small>CARLISLE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">L</span>UCKILY Matthew Musgrave, who had given Wilfred permission to go, asked -no questions beyond inquiring whether he had settled things to his -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“I had some difficulties,” said Wilfred, “but everything is all right -now.”</p> - -<p>Wilfred lodged with Musgrave, but they would often both come round -to the hostelry where Ian was. On one of these occasions a number of -men were seated round the fire with tankards of ale, when a big burly -fellow came in and asked mine host to draw him a tankard. Catching -sight of Matthew, he went up to him and clapping him on the back, he -asked how things were going.</p> - -<p>“Well enough, thank you, Andrew, and how is all with you, now that you -have settled down near the old place again?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not so badly; it is harder work than at Holwick, but it’s good -being near one’s own folk.”</p> - -<p>Ian started slightly at the name of Holwick, but no one noticed and he -guessed that this must be Andrew Woolridge. He waited a moment and then -cautiously entered the conversation. “Where is Holwick?” he questioned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span></p> - -<p>“It’s not very far south from here,” said Andrew, “on the Tees a few -miles from Middleton.”</p> - -<p>“What were you doing there?” asked Ian.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was working at Holwick Hall, Master Richard Mowbray’s place.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of a place was that?”</p> - -<p>“A fine big place, but they had not the money that the family used to -have.”</p> - -<p>“What were they like?” inquired Ian.</p> - -<p>“Yes, tell us something about them,” said Matthew; “you have never told -us much.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they were all right. Master Mowbray was excellent and so were the -young mistresses, but Mistress Mowbray herself was a tartar.”</p> - -<p>“Was that why you left?” asked little Wilfred.</p> - -<p>“Well, no, not exactly,” said Andrew. “I had a bit of a quarrel with -them. These things will happen, you know”; and he laughed. “In fact, -now that I think over it, I believe they were in the right. They were -decent people, but queer in some ways, and so I thought I had better -shift over here.”</p> - -<p>“What was the quarrel about?” asked Matthew.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is too long a story; but I thought they should supply me with -enough corn for the winter and they were not willing. Maybe I wanted -too much; anyhow I came away, but I am sorry sometimes too.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you must know I was sorry for the little mistress, Aline -Gillespie, who lived with them. She and I did not get on very well; -but Mistress Mowbray treated her like a dog. Mistress Aline, though, -did me a good turn once, when I got into trouble, and somehow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> I would -have liked to do her a good turn too, by way of paying back. I do not -like being in any one’s debt. But there, I make mistakes like most of -the rest of us. What do I owe you?” he said, turning to the innkeeper. -“It’s time I was going.”</p> - -<p>Andrew settled his score and was just leaving when another man entered.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Andrew,” said the newcomer, “whither away in such haste? Come -back, man,” and then he added something in a low voice in which Ian -distinctly caught the word “Holwick.”</p> - -<p>This was a strange coincidence, Ian thought, to meet two people within -a few minutes who both knew Holwick and he wondered who the newcomer -might be. He had not long to wait.</p> - -<p>The stranger turned to the innkeeper and said, “Timothy, man, I’m back -again; you’ve got a place for my pack-horses for the night, I hope.”</p> - -<p>“There’s always room for old friends,” said the innkeeper.</p> - -<p>“Is there anything you’ll be buying yourself?” asked the stranger. -“Faith, man, but I’ve some fine things, but you’re getting that set up -in Carlisle that a man who only brings goods from Flanders and Italy -and Persia and India, to say nothing of the latest novelties from -London, is hardly likely to please you. But I’ve got some rugs now that -would just stir your heart. You never saw the like. I have just refused -300 florins for one of them, but I’ll let an old friend have it for -that price.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, stop your gammon, Walter,” said the innkeeper. “You need not tell -me your tales. If there’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> anything good and cheap, I may take it, but -I do not want any of your flowery word fancies.”</p> - -<p>“Odds bodikins! mine host is very plain spoken,” rejoined Walter, “but -come along, sirs, what do you want?” addressing the little group, and -he unrolled a bundle as he spoke.</p> - -<p>Although Walter made the most of them, his wares really were thoroughly -good stuff, and he had a happy taste in making his selections; -consequently he always did good business wherever he went, and it was -rumoured that he had a pretty pile laid by for a rainy day.</p> - -<p>He sold a few things to those present and was rolling up the bundle, -when Ian caught sight of a singularly beautiful silver buckle of -admirable design and workmanship. It was of a superior class to most -of the trinkets that the packman had with him. He said nothing at the -time but waited for a more favourable opportunity, as the packman was -staying for the night.</p> - -<p>In the evening Ian and the packman were seated alone at the fire. Ian -looked around carefully, the door was shut, so he decided that he might -broach the subject of Holwick.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you travel far,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Master Mitchell, I cover the length of the country once every -year, but I work mainly in the north between here and York.”</p> - -<p>“Are you going to York now?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I expect to do—after a time; but I am going to Hexham and -Newcastle and Durham and shall then work my way up the Wear and down -the Tees and probably up Wensley dale.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know Upper Teesdale?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, yes, but it’s an out of the way place. Yet, do you know,—many -of these out of the way places are my best customers. When I was last -there I sold a large quantity to Master Richard Mowbray of Holwick -Hall.”</p> - -<p>“You know them then?”</p> - -<p>“In a business way, yes,” said Walter.</p> - -<p>“There’s a little girl that is living there, that I know slightly,” -said Ian.</p> - -<p>“What, Mistress Aline Gillespie! the bonniest child I ever saw in my -life. I shall never forget that child, although I have only seen her -once. ’Sdeath, man, she has the face of an angel and the soul of one -too, beshrew me if she has not.”</p> - -<p>“Well, she comes from my country, although I cannot say that I have any -extended acquaintance with her any more than you have.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry for that bairn,” said Walter, lowering his voice and -looking round; “she has none too happy a time with the Mowbrays. But -there, it may be gossip,” he continued, as the thought occurred to him -that he was not sure of his listener. “One hears such funny tales as -one goes about the country; one does not know what to believe.”</p> - -<p>“You are going that way again then?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, and perchance if you know the child, you would like me to -tell her that I had seen you.”</p> - -<p>“May be so; and I might send her one of your trinkets. I saw a little -buckle that might take her fancy.”</p> - -<p>Walter got up and fetched the bundle and produced the buckle. -“Honestly, man,” he said, “that is a more expensive class of thing than -most of my stuff; but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> will let you have it cheap. Yes, really cheap; -I know you think I always talk like that, but I swear I am speaking -true.”</p> - -<p>There was an earnestness in the man’s tone and manner that was quite -unlike his usual jaunty way of talking and Ian felt he might venture to -say more.</p> - -<p>“I believe you,” he said. “Well, I will buy it and send a letter with -it, but promise me that no one else shall see you give it to her.”</p> - -<p>“You know the old cat too, then, do you?” said Margrove, a little off -his guard.</p> - -<p>“Mistress Mowbray, you mean,” said Ian. “Well, I know about her; and in -these days least said is soonest mended.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we dwell in strange times,” the packman responded, “the land has -passed through sad experiences,” and then, fearing he might have said -too much, he added, “Maybe it is all right, but I have no fancy to see -human flesh fry.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I either,” said Ian. “I saw them burn George Wishart, and I shall -not forget that on this side of my grave.”</p> - -<p>“It’s my belief,” said Walter, “that the church does itself more harm -than good by the burnings; it does not have the effect that they -expect.”</p> - -<p>“I believe your sympathy is with those who are burned,” said Ian, -looking at him keenly.</p> - -<p>“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t; but anyway I say that Mother Church -does not always see where her own interests lie. But my business is -chaffering and I do not meddle in these matters, see you there.”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, man, you need not mind me, say what you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> like. I care for -the burning no more than you do and no finger of mine would ever be -stirred to get a man into trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Well, neighbour,” said Margrove, “you speak fair, neither would I. If -George Wishart had come to me I should not have told them where to find -him.”</p> - -<p>“Then keep my secret,” said Ian, “and give Mistress Aline the buckle -without a soul knowing it. While I am about it,” he added, “I will take -this chatelaine, and that will do for the other little mistress.”</p> - -<p>“Then it was not only in Scotland that you knew Mistress Aline,” -remarked Walter, looking at him shrewdly.</p> - -<p>Ian was half sorry that he had said so much, he might have enclosed -the chatelaine for Audry without telling Walter Margrove; but he said -off-handedly;—“The Gillespies lived in Scotland, but were cousins of -Richard Mowbray. I have never seen him, but I know he has a daughter.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, he has a daughter, and she would be worth going some way to see -too; only she is outshone by her cousin. But Mistress Audry is a bonnie -lassockie and will make a fine woman. Yet it’s a pity the Mowbrays have -no boy. It’s a sad thing for the family to die out.”</p> - -<p>Both men were silent for a time and then Margrove spoke. He looked at -Ian questioningly,—“I believe I have seen your face before,” he said; -“your name’s not James Mitchell.” He gave the fire a stir, and as the -flame shot up he said, “Were you ever at Northampton?”</p> - -<p>“I was,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Then you are the man to whom I owe everything.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> Why did I not -recognise you before? I have heard they had seized you and I heard -afterwards that you had escaped to France,—see this,” he went on, -drawing a small copy of the New Testament from his doublet. “I have not -the courage to go about as you do; but I too have done a little, and, -if need be, I hope I shall have strength not to deny the faith.”</p> - -<p>There was silence again, this time Ian spoke. “I wonder if you know -where a Greek Testament could be obtained, you travel much and see many -things.”</p> - -<p>“It is strange that you should say that. I have two concealed in an -inner pouch in my pack, that have come over from Amsterdam and I was -taking them to Master Shipley near York, who had asked me to obtain one -for him.”</p> - -<p>“Then will you let me have the better one and take it along with the -buckle?”</p> - -<p>“Is that it, then?” said Margrove. “Poor child, poor child!”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Ian, “you are wrong, they do not know at Holwick that the -child has any thoughts that way; you must act with all the caution you -can command.”</p> - -<p>Walter brought the testaments and Ian chose the smaller one, which was -most beautifully bound with little silver clasps. Walter wanted not to -charge for it, but Ian pointed out that that would deprive him of the -pleasure of being the donor.</p> - -<p>“Before we retire,” said Ian, “I should like to ask you how you came -to meet Andrew Woolridge. Do you know his story? You can be quite open -with me, as I know why he left Holwick.”</p> - -<p>“Then for heaven’s sake don’t tell the people here,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> said Walter. “The -man is consumed by remorse, though he tries to pass it off lightly. He -is honestly trying to do everything that he can. You are not the only -one who has sent a present to Mistress Aline. I can tell you that much, -and if Andrew knew who you were, he would not mind. He is a changed man -since he left Holwick. He told me that the vision of the child haunted -him day and night.</p> - -<p>“He does not like to talk about the child, but really, if I believed in -spells, I should think the child had magic in her. I never saw a man so -completely spell bound and I must confess that although I only saw her -once, she holds me almost as though I were enchanted.”</p> - -<p>“It is the same here,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“It is a most marvellous thing,” Walter continued, “because she seems -quite unconscious of it; not in all my experience have I ever met or -heard of anything like it before. That’s three of us, in fact the only -people that we know anything about, and it may be the same with every -one she meets.”</p> - -<p>They talked a little longer and Ian discussed his plans for taking up -the packman’s life when he had gathered sufficient money, as a means of -spreading his message through the land. Then as the hour was getting -late they went to their rooms.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xviii" id="xviii"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<small>A DIPLOMATIC VICTORY</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>AN had started a letter to Aline some time before, using the parchment -with the holes. This he finished and carefully wrapped it up with the -buckle, the testament and the chatelaine.</p> - -<p>In the morning he found Walter and drew him aside. “She may have a -letter to send back,” he said, “so try and give her an opportunity. -Keep your eyes and ears open too, and find out and tell me everything -that you can.”</p> - -<p>Walter Margrove put the packet inside his doublet, and, after settling -the girths of his horses, shook hands warmly with Ian, mounted and rode -away down English Street to the South Gate, leaving Ian looking after -him, as he gradually drew away.</p> - -<p>He had a long journey before him and his thoughts were full of the -man he had left behind. He had heard Ian Menstrie speak at an open -air meeting in Northampton, and at first had been struck by the fiery -eloquence of the young Scot and had then been arrested by his message. -He had always longed to meet him again; and here he was, actually able -to do him a small service. Then his thoughts turned to Holwick and the -beautiful irresistible child that had so strangely fascinated him, in -spite of himself, in the few minutes that he had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> her. He had not -liked to question Master Menstrie, but he wondered what could be the -connection between the two; what could the child, obviously a lady, -have to do with Menstrie, a common carpenter? Truly it was a remarkable -world.</p> - -<p>He reached Haltwhistle that evening and did a little business there on -the following day and called at a number of outlying houses on the way -to Hexham. Business was good and it was nearly three weeks before he -found himself turning his horses’ heads over Middleton bridge to reach -the hamlet that has a way in but no way out. “No wonder they say, ‘do -as they do in Holwick,’” he muttered,—the local proverb for “doing -without,” as his horse stumbled in the thick muddy track.</p> - -<p>Somehow he felt full of forebodings as he approached the Hall.</p> - -<p>Fortune favoured him in one respect, however, as he met Aline herself a -few hundred yards from the gate. She smiled brightly when she saw him, -and held up her hand. He took the little hand and then dismounted and -led the horse. “I am so glad to have you come,” she said; “I have been -looking for you for a long time. You look tired. I wonder if Elspeth -could get you something nice before you have to undo your pack. I’ll -run on and ask her.”</p> - -<p>Before he could stop her she had run on, and he had to mount his horse -and trot after her and call;—“Not so fast, Mistress Aline, I have -something to say to you and we may not get another opportunity. Here is -a small packet from Master Menstrie. Hide it in your dress.” Aline’s -eyes shone with sudden pleasure; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> as Walter looked at her he -thought she was not looking well.</p> - -<p>“How did you find him? Do you know him? Where is he? How is he? What is -he doing?” said Aline, all in a breath.</p> - -<p>“Softly, softly, fair and softly; one question at a time,” said Walter. -“I found him in Carlisle, and by accident I mentioned Holwick and he -sent this to you.”</p> - -<p>“But how is he and what is he doing?” asked Aline.</p> - -<p>“He seems fairly well and is working as a carpenter.”</p> - -<p>Aline looked surprised. “I did not know he was a carpenter,” she said. -Ian had not spoken much about his past life. She remembered him saying -something about working on hinges, but she had thought of him in that -connexion as a master artist, and so humble an occupation to one of her -birth and surroundings was a little bit of a shock; but she checked it -instantaneously and added, “But I expect he is a very good carpenter.”</p> - -<p>Walter Margrove was puzzled. Aline then apparently did not know a great -deal about Ian Menstrie and he did not know how much to say and how -much to leave unsaid.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I do not know very much about him,” Walter deemed the -safest reply; “but he seemed to be getting on all right.”</p> - -<p>Aline too felt something of the same sort, while Walter thought it -best to change the subject, and added,—“But I have something else -for you, Mistress Aline.” He produced another small packet, which he -undid, and took out a beautiful carved ivory comb. “This,” he said, “is -from Andrew Woolridge. You can let the others see it if you like, but -perhaps it would be wiser not.” Walter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> was thinking that it would be -best not to call the attention of people to the fact that he was in any -way a means of communication between Aline and others. “Andrew cannot -write, like Master Menstrie, but he bade me tell you that he wished -you well and that he hoped some day to show himself worthy of your -forgiveness, but that meantime he would say nothing more.”</p> - -<p>Aline was quite overcome for a moment. “I am afraid I judged him too -harshly, and he has already sent something to Master Mowbray.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Walter, “I think the man has turned over a new leaf. But -we are near the house and I want also to give you a little thing from -myself; it is only a length of fine linen, but it may be as useful as -trinkets. I have it here in my holster. If you do not care to be seen -with it, I daresay old Elspeth will manage it for us.”</p> - -<p>“But you must not give me things,” said Aline. “Why should you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mistress Aline, I know of something in Master Menstrie’s -package, as he bought it from me, and I fear me that you will meet with -trouble. Pray God the way may be smooth to you; but it is not so for -many who have dared to read the Scriptures for themselves. I am of the -reformed faith myself and He has dealt mercifully with me; for I know I -am a weak vessel. But remember you have only to call on Walter Margrove -and if ever he can help you he will do it.”</p> - -<p>“Good day to you, Walter,” said the voice of Master Mowbray. They were -approaching the drawbridge and there was no opportunity for further -conversation.</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray was coming out, but he turned back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> when he saw them -approaching. “So you have fetched the packman and all his fine wares,” -he said to Aline. “Are you trying to buy up the best things before we -get a chance, lassie?”</p> - -<p>The thud of the hoofs on the drawbridge and their clatter on the stones -within, had already drawn forth heads from the windows and in a moment -a crowd of persons was gathering round Walter and asking him a hundred -questions.</p> - -<p>Walter answered the questions as well as he could and made his way -to the great hall, where Mistress Mowbray had the first chance of -inspecting his stock.</p> - -<p>She was in a more affable mood than usual and laid in a good supply of -materials, amongst others some very fine kersey, which she said should -be used to make a cote-hardie for each of the children, and a piece of -applied embroidery for orphreys.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20" href="#Footnote_20_20" class="footnote">[20]</a> Audry was standing with her arm -round Aline, next to Walter, and, as Mistress Mowbray turned aside to -examine some silk nearer the light, he slipped the parcel of linen into -her hand and whispered that it was for Aline.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20" href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="anchor">20</span></a> Broad bands of applied embroidery.</p></div> - -<p>It was somewhat late in the day when Walter arrived, so that he decided -that it was necessary to stay the night. His horses were stabled at the -Hall and he himself lodged at the house of Janet Arnside.</p> - -<p>Walter knew that she had recently come over to the new faith and he -sought an opportunity for a meeting with two or three others in her -house. They came very quietly, but their coming was not likely to -arouse suspicion, as the packman was considered good company wherever -he went.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span></p> - -<p>After they had all gone Walter began to talk about Aline, her strange -power of fascination and her unique, almost unearthly beauty. “I wonder -if the child can be happy up there,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I doubt if she is,” said Janet; “she comes in here often and John and -I have many times noticed a far-away wistful look in those deep blue -eyes of hers, bright and cheerful as she always is.”</p> - -<p>“I wish, Mother, she could hold our faith,” said John. “I am sure it -would make her happier. Life has been a great deal more to me since -these things first came my way.”</p> - -<p>Walter sat and said nothing; he thought that on the whole it was far -safer for little Aline if no one knew. “Poor little soul,” he said to -himself, “it is a different matter for these people who can confide in -each other, with no one else in the house; but for her, sweet innocent, -it is indeed a case of the dove in the eagle’s nest.”</p> - -<p>John watched Walter’s thoughtful face and then said, “Is there anything -we could do for her?”</p> - -<p>“Not that I can see,” said Walter; “but look you, there might be; the -child, as we know, is not exactly among friends and none can say what -a day may bring forth. She has had a narrow escape already. You keep a -careful look-out, my lad, and if ever you can get a chance you can let -Walter Margrove know all that goes on. By my halidame, I would not have -any harm come to the bairn. I do not know why she has got such a hold -on me, but so it is.”</p> - -<p>“That will I do,” said John, “she has the same hold on all of us. There -can hardly be a man or woman in the parish that would not die for that -child. They just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> worship her. Those of the old faith are sure she is -a saint. I should not be surprised but that they say prayers to her, -and she is sweetly unconscious of it all. You know old Benjamin Darley? -Well, I was passing his house the other day, and Mistress Aline was -seated near the door with her feet on a little wooden stool. She rose -up when she saw me and said good-bye, as she wanted to come and see my -mother; but ran across into Peter’s cottage to fetch something. Old -Benjamin did not see me, as I stood there waiting, but I saw him pick -up the stool and kiss it reverently and put it away on the shelf, while -the tears stood in his eyes.”</p> - -<p>“I guess, lad, you have done the same,” said Walter.</p> - -<p>“And what about yourself, Walter?” said John, evading the question.</p> - -<p>“Maybe I do not get such opportunities; are you coming up to the Hall -with me to-morrow to see me off?”</p> - -<p>“No, I must be off to work, but good luck to you.”</p> - -<p>So the next day Walter said good-bye to Janet and went up to the Hall. -He met Elspeth in the courtyard. “Good morning, neighbour, how is all -with you and how is your bonnie little mistress?”</p> - -<p>“I am doing as well as can be expected, and Mistress Audry is not -ailing.”</p> - -<p>“I meant Mistress Aline, not that Mistress Audry is not as bonnie a -child as one would meet in a nine days’ march.”</p> - -<p>“Ay and a good hearted one too, neighbour,” said Elspeth. “It’s not -every child who would take kindly to ranking second after they had -always been reckoned the bonniest in the whole countryside. But there, -Mistress Aline might give herself airs, and yet one really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> could -not tell that she knew she was pretty; so I do not think it has ever -occurred to Mistress Audry to mind and she just enjoys looking at her. -They are fine bairns both of them.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, they are that,” said Walter.</p> - -<p>“I just pray,” continued Elspeth, “that I may live to see them well -settled. My mother served in the Hall and my grandmother and her father -and his father again, and so it is. As long as there is a Mowbray -I hope there will be some of our blood to serve them and Mistress -Gillespie is a Mowbray, mind you that, and some say,” she went on in -a whisper, “that she should be the Mistress of Holwick. It was a new -place when the old man built it, the old Mowbray property is down -Middleton way and is now let. Maybe, if there’s anything in it, that’s -partly why Mistress Mowbray does not love the child. But there, it is -all gossip, and I must be moving.”</p> - -<p>Walter settled his packs and took as long over it as he could in the -hope of catching sight of Aline. In this he was successful, for a few -minutes afterwards he saw the children, who were really looking for -him. Aline handed him a letter for Ian and asked how soon he expected -to be able to deliver it.</p> - -<p>“I wish we could see him,” said Audry involuntarily.</p> - -<p>Aline looked at her and Audry subsided.</p> - -<p>But Walter, who spent his life studying human nature, saw the glance -and began to puzzle it out. “So Ian Menstrie does know both the -children then and it was not a mere matter of courtesy to send the -chatelaine for Audry. But this is very curious,” he reasoned. “Janet -Arnside has not mentioned him nor have any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> others of the reformed -faith. Strange how he could be in Holwick and not see them. And I -mind too, that he said he had never seen Richard Mowbray. Truly it is -mystifying.”</p> - -<p>Another thing that perplexed him was Janet and John’s desire that -Mistress Aline should hear of the faith. Obviously, she knew of it and -yet they were unaware of the fact. He began to see daylight;—somehow -the children must have found Menstrie in some hiding place. Walter -was too cautious a man to mention anything that he discovered in his -journeys that might conceivably bring mischief, and too honourable a -man to try and discover a secret that clearly did not concern him.</p> - -<p>The children seemed to cling to Walter as though loth to let him go and -even after he had mounted his horse they accompanied him a long way -down the road; then, fearing, if they went too far, it might give rise -to questionings they bade good-bye and after waiting to wave a last -farewell as he reached the next bend they turned reluctantly back.</p> - -<p>“You should not have said that just now,” observed Aline.</p> - -<p>“Said what, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Said that you wanted to see Ian. Of course Margrove may really know -Ian and his affairs but he may be doing this as a kindness to a -stranger and probably he did not know that Ian had ever been here, he -might simply have met my family in Scotland.”</p> - -<p>“Well, all this suspicion and concealment is not like you, Aline,” said -Audry.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear,” Aline answered, “yes, I do not like it; life is really too -hard.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span></p> - -<p>The children had reached the Hall and went up to their own room to undo -the package. Aline opened it and within were the smaller packets marked -respectively,—“For Audry” and “For Aline.”</p> - -<p>Both uttered a cry of delight as they beheld their treasure.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you will hardly be able to wear the chatelaine,” said -Aline, as she bent affectionately over her cousin. “I am so sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Not just now perhaps, and you will not be able to wear the buckle, but -isn’t it beautiful and was it not good of him to remember that that -was what I asked for; and after New Year’s Day, when I have had other -presents, I do not think it would be noticed. I have always wanted a -chatelaine so badly.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s long hair had fallen forward as she stooped; she tossed it over -her shoulder with the back of her hand and rose and held out the buckle -to catch the light. It was far the finest thing she had ever possessed. -Fortune was not so unkind after all. Here was a treasure indeed!</p> - -<p>“Now we must see how the chatelaine looks,” she said, dropping to her -knees and sitting back on her heels, while she attached the chatelaine -to Audry’s belt. Then a thought struck her. “Let us also see the effect -of the buckle,” she went on with a laugh, and the sensitive fingers -deftly adjusted the buckle to seem as if it were fastened to the belt.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they do go well together! Audry, they look charming!” Would Ian -mind, she wondered to herself; no, he would like her to be generous. -So, stifling a touch of regret, she said aloud, “They look so nice that -you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> must keep the buckle”; and she pulled Audry down to the floor and -smothered her objections with kisses.</p> - -<p>Then she sat up somewhat dishevelled and reached over for the -Testament. “You wanted a chatelaine and I wanted a Greek Testament. -Isn’t it a lovely book?” and she fastened and unfastened the chastely -designed clasps. “With the help of the Latin I shall soon be able to -read it. I am so glad I can read Latin easily. I must keep it in the -secret room, I suppose. It would have been safe in the library; but Ian -has written my name in it.”</p> - -<p>“Master Menstrie is not as cautious as he might be,” observed Audry, -“but I must not stay here, Mother and Elspeth want me, to go over -my clothes. Then there are those people coming to-morrow about that -Newbiggin matter and she may want me to have some special gown. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>Aline was left alone. So to-morrow was actually the day they were -coming! She had gathered her information, but she had not laid her -plans. Somehow or other those people at Newbiggin must not be unjustly -treated. Mistress Mowbray must not have her own way in the matter if -she could prevent it.</p> - -<p>She found herself, therefore, definitely setting out to fight Mistress -Mowbray. She had never before quite realised that it was an actual -contest of wills; but, when she came to think about it, Mistress -Mowbray had been making so aggressive a display of her power lately -that Aline did not altogether shrink from a trial of strength, as -though she had been challenged; in fact she rather enjoyed it. The -problem was, how was it to be carried through?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span></p> - -<p>It was certainly not likely that she would be invited to the -discussion. If she came in, as it were by accident, she would -undoubtedly be turned out. She must get Master Gower on her side -beforehand anyway. After that there were several possible plans of -campaign. They were certain to have a meal first and one plan would be -to raise the subject herself and get it discussed at the table, another -would be privily to interview every guest, if opportunity offered.</p> - -<p>She decided that she would go and see Master Gower alone and set out -on foot to Middleton. She crossed the bridge and turned up to the left -bank of the river till she came to Pawlaw Tower. It was a small pele -with a barmkin.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21" href="#Footnote_21_21" class="footnote">[21]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21" href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="anchor">21</span></a> A small tower with a little enclosure or courtyard.</p></div> - -<p>After being admitted at the gate, she asked to see the master, and was -conducted up a narrow wooden stairway to the hall, which was on the -first floor.</p> - -<p>“What would you have with me, little maid?” said Hugh Gower, as the -child came in.</p> - -<p>Aline had been very nervous, but his kindly manner reassured her. “I -want to talk about the people of Newbiggin,” she said.</p> - -<p>“The people of Newbiggin! and a sorry set of loons, too!” and his face -clouded a little. “What have you to say about them, fair child!”</p> - -<p>“I want to speak to you that they be not all dispossessed.”</p> - -<p>“By all accounts,” he replied, “the sooner there standeth not stone -upon stone, nor one stick by another of all that place, the better will -it be for the country-side.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not so,” she said, looking fearlessly at him, “it would be a -right sore thing that the innocent should suffer.” Aline was no -sentimentalist and was quite willing that the wicked should suffer -their deserts according to the stern measures of the day; but this -proposal of indiscriminate chastisement had roused the mettle of the -high spirited child.</p> - -<p>“How now, Mistress Aline Gillespie; but you are too young to understand -these things. Children’s hearts are too soft and if we hearkened to -what they said, there would be an end to all order.”</p> - -<p>“Marry, no,” she answered boldly, drawing herself up, “it is order I -want to see and not disorder. Punish the guilty and spare the innocent. -Wanton destruction is not order, and that indeed liketh me not.”</p> - -<p>“It is a nest of scoundrels, little maid, and all your pretty -haughtiness cannot save them.”</p> - -<p>“Some of them are scoundrels, I know, harry them as ye may, but some -are god-fearing folk that never did harm to you or other. I know one -carline there, whose like would be hard to find by all Tees-side.”</p> - -<p>Her mien was irresistible. “Come sit and talk,” he said. So Aline -pleaded for the better folk, while she spared no condemnation of the -worse.</p> - -<p>She not only gained her point, but she gained a staunch ally as well. -Master Hugh fell under her witchery and nothing would content him, but -that he should find her a horse and ride back with her to Holwick.</p> - -<p>“It’s a fine old place, this home of yours,” he said, as he looked up -at the gateway-tower, with the arms of the Mowbrays over the entrance -archway;—“a meet abode for so fair a princess,” he added gallantly;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> -then helping her to alight and bowing low over her hand, like a -courtier, with a gravity half playful, half serious, he kissed it, -mounted his horse and rode away.</p> - -<p>Aline had tried also to get hold of Lord Middleton’s reeve, but was -unsuccessful; her plans, however, were favoured next day by the -representative of the Duke of Alston arriving an hour too soon.</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray was busy in preparations and, little knowing what she -was doing, caught sight of Aline and called,—“Hither, wench, come you -and take Master Latour into the pleasaunce and entertain him as ye may.”</p> - -<p>Ralph Latour was a tall stern man and Aline’s first thought was that -she would fail, but she soon found that, though hard and in a measure -unsympathetic, he had a strict and judicial mind, and was quite ready -to accept her standpoint, although entirely without warmth or show of -feeling.</p> - -<p>The child, however, fascinated him also, like the rest. Yet it was in -a somewhat different way from her hold on other people. He was a man -of considerable learning and taste, who had travelled widely, and in -his cold critical way was absorbed in the subtlety of her beauty. Aline -thought she had never met any one so awe-inspiring as he made her walk -in front of him or sat her down opposite to him, in order that he might -look at her.</p> - -<p>They discussed the subject thoroughly and he concluded by -saying,—“Mistress Gillespie,—you are Mistress Gillespie, I -understand?”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Aline,” she corrected.</p> - -<p>“I am told that you have neither brothers nor uncles and that the line -ends in you, does it not?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span></p> - -<p>“True,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Mistress Gillespie, then, I repeat, you have shown considerable acumen -and you may take it that there is a coincidence of view between us. -Yes,” he added, absent-mindedly speaking aloud, as he looked at her -little foot, “the external malleolus has exactly the right emphasis, -neither too much nor too little, and I observe the same at the wrist in -the styloid process of the ulna. I crave pardon,” he added hastily, “it -is time that we joined the others.”</p> - -<p>They found that Master Bowman, Lord Middleton’s reeve, had just arrived -with his lady, and the company proceeded to the hall.</p> - -<p>Aline had thought best not to mention the matter to Cousin Richard, as -he might discuss it with his wife and her plans be frustrated. She felt -sure, however, that he would take her part if any were on her side at -all.</p> - -<p>“These be troublesome days, madam,” said David Bowman, addressing -Mistress Mowbray. “It looks as though all authority were to go by the -board and every man go his own way. Mother Church is like to have her -house overturned by these pestilent heretics.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and a man will not be master in his own house soon either, -methinks, neighbour,” said Richard Mowbray.</p> - -<p>“How now, Mistress Mowbray, what think you?” Bowman resumed. “Shall we -not at least keep our kail better in future, when we have cleared the -rabbit-warren?”</p> - -<p>“What rabbit-warren?” said Audry innocently.</p> - -<p>“The rabbit-warren of Newbiggin, child,” replied Bowman; “only these -rabbits are fonder of sheep and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> chickens and folks’ corn and money -than of kail, but we’ll have them all stewed shortly.”</p> - -<p>“In the pot, with the lid on,” chimed in Eleanor Mowbray, “and it shall -be hot broth too.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly think your broth would be very tasty,” observed Master -Richard.</p> - -<p>“Tasty,” echoed his wife; “it would be the tastiest dish served to the -Master of Holwick this many a long day.”</p> - -<p>“Master Richard’s imagination is too literal,” said Bowman; “he’s -thinking of the old leather hide of William Lonsdale, and tough bony -morsels like Jane Mallet; but we could peel them and take out the pips.”</p> - -<p>“Your humour is a trifle broad, neighbour,” remarked Master Gower; “the -little ladies might appreciate something finer.”</p> - -<p>“Finer indeed—what, and get as thin as your humour, Master Gower, that -we must needs go looking for it with a candle. But humour or no humour, -what are we to do with these knaves? How counsel you, Mistress Mowbray?”</p> - -<p>“Turn them out and burn their houses,” she answered, “and let them -shift for themselves.”</p> - -<p>“I think we should give them something to help them to get elsewhere,” -said Master Richard.</p> - -<p>“Ay, their corpses might be an unpleasant sight, lying round here,” -dryly put in Ralph Latour.</p> - -<p>“But why turn them out at all?” asked Aline at last. “It’s only one or -two that have done any harm, why be so hard on the others?”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, child, where there’s a plague spot, the whole body is sick,” -cried Mistress Mowbray. “The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> plague spot will always spread, and they -are all involved already, I’ll warrant; away with them all I say. And -what do you mean, child, advising your betters and thrusting yourself -into wise folks’ counsels?”</p> - -<p>“It liketh me to hear a child’s views, if the bairn be not too -forward,” said Latour gravely. “There is a freshness and simplicity -about them that we are apt to miss after our long travailing in the -world.”</p> - -<p>“‘Simplicity,’ indeed,” rejoined Mistress Mowbray, “simpleton is the -kind of word you want. In my young days we were taught our place; -‘freshness,’ forsooth! We want no fresh raw wenches to open their -mouths in this place, anyway.”</p> - -<p>Latour took no notice of his hostess’ rudeness, but turned to Aline -saying,—“But do you not think, child, that a severe example would -be a terror to evil-doers far and wide, and Mistress Mowbray is -doubtless right, they will all be infected, even if the evil in every -case does not show itself. All through the world’s story the innocent -have suffered with the guilty; moreover, it will quicken in them a -responsibility for their associates. Besides, if, as Master Mowbray -suggests, we help them on their way there will be no hardship done, it -is only a change of abode. Come now, Aline, is that not so?”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray watched exultantly. She was not sure that these -calm measured phrases were not more crushing than her own invective. -“Now, child, you see how little you understand things,” she observed -patronisingly.</p> - -<p>Master Latour, however, was not acting as a partisan; he was merely -putting the case, partly to show all sides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> and partly because it -interested him to test Aline’s powers.</p> - -<p>“Master Latour is a just man,” said Aline with some hesitation, “and -I think he will understand when I say that I really know that these -people are not all bad,—that the disease, as you call it, has not -spread so far but that it may be checked.” She paused for a moment from -nervousness, and looked a little confused.</p> - -<p>“Take your time;—festina lente,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22" href="#Footnote_22_22" class="footnote">[22]</a>—develop your argument at your -convenience,” said Latour not unkindly.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22" href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="anchor">22</span></a> Make haste slowly.</p></div> - -<p>“With regard then to the question of example,” Aline went on, -recovering herself and catching something of Latour’s manner of -speaking, “with regard to the question of example, you all know that -this ‘change of abode’ will only stir up bitterness and that that will -spread tenfold and may wreck us altogether. A punishment that the -others feel to be just is a lesson; a punishment that is felt to be -unjust is a flame for kindling a revolutionary fire.</p> - -<p>“You say I am a child and I do not know; but, please, I do know more -about these people than any of you. I have spoken to every one of them. -I know them all; and about some of them I know a great deal. I do not -suppose there is any one here, except myself, who even knows their -names, beyond those of his own tenants. Marry, now, is that not so?”</p> - -<p>Aline having flung down her challenge looked around with flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>Latour had been watching her with his cold aesthetic appreciation, -admiring her instinctively beautiful gestures,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> but this time, he too -felt a real touch of the child’s magic as she glanced scornfully round.</p> - -<p>“I do not pretend to be old enough to know what is the right thing to -do,” Aline went on, “but surely, surely,” she said in earnest pleading -tones, “people who want to be just should carefully find out everything -first. Is that not so?” she asked, turning round quickly to Mistress -Mowbray;—“Do you not think so yourself?”</p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray was so astonished at the child daring to cross-examine -her like that, that she was struck dumb with astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course you think so,” Aline said, giving her no time to -recover herself. “Mistress Mowbray entirely agrees,” she went on, “as -every just person would agree. That is so, is it not, Master Gower?” -Master Gower bowed assent. “And there is no need to ask you, Cousin -Richard.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear, you are right,” he said.</p> - -<p>Aline had swept swiftly round in the order in which she was most sure -of adherents, so as to carry away the rest.</p> - -<p>“Master Latour,” she continued, “I am sure you will not disagree with -them and will say that a proper examination must be held first, and -that everything must be done that will stop bitterness and revolt while -keeping honesty and order.”</p> - -<p>“That is entirely my view,” said Latour, captivated by the child’s -skill and the gentle modesty which, in spite of her earnestness, marked -every tone and gesture. “Who would have thought,” he said to himself, -“that anything so gentle and modest and yet so princess-like withal -could be in one combination at the same time?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline was least sure of Bowman, but while looking at him she -concluded;—“Then I take it that you all think the same, Master Bowman.”</p> - -<p>She had not exactly asked him his own view, and he was sure that -if left to himself he would have taken a different line. He was -by no means certain that he was not literally spell-bound as he -answered;—“Surely, Mistress Aline, we are all of one mind, including -my wife, I think I may say.” The lady smiled her complete acquiescence.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am so glad,” Aline said, and slipping from her seat she went up -to Master Richard and, in her most irresistible way, put her arm around -him, saying:—“And you will let me help you to find out things, won’t -you, even though I am only a little girl?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, if it is any gratification to you, sweet child,” he answered, -kissing her.</p> - -<p>“That is all settled then,” she said, “and when the ladies retire, you -can examine me as the first witness.”</p> - -<p>“A very good idea; you seem to know every one’s tenants,” said Master -Latour, much amused at Aline’s triumph and adroitness, and determined -that she should secure the fruits of her victory. As he was the -strongest man there, both in himself and as representing the largest -and most powerful owner, the others at once concurred. Part of the -secret of Aline’s extraordinary power was her entire selflessness. In -her most queenly moods there was never the least suggestion of self, it -was the royalty of love. Aline might use the very words that in other -children’s mouths would have been conceited and opinionated; yet from -her they were more like a passionate appeal. This, associated with a -quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> dignity of manner, generally produced a feeling of “noblesse -oblige” in the hearer. The basest men will hesitate to use foul -language and discuss foul things before a child. In Aline’s presence -the same occurred in an infinitely greater degree. It was for most -people, men or women, impossible to be anything but their best selves -before her; to do anything less would mean to be utterly ashamed.</p> - -<p>Aline’s conquest was complete and Mistress Mowbray saw that she would -only expose herself to further defeat if she attempted now to open the -question again. It was made the more galling as Aline’s last thrust had -practically shut her out of the council altogether. Why did that fool -Bowman bring his wife with him? It would be too undignified for her to -insist on coming after they had accepted Aline’s proposition, unless -she forbade Aline to be there; and that Aline had made impossible. So -there was nothing left but to accept the situation with the best grace -that she could and bide her time.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xix" id="xix"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> -<small>THE LOSS</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>ISTRESS MOWBRAY had not long to wait. The day after the matter of -Newbiggin was settled Father Laurence was crossing Middleton Bridge, -when he met “Moll o’ the graves” coming in the opposite direction. He -instinctively crossed himself at her approach. She saw his action, and -stopping on the side of the bridge in one of the refuges, she pointed -her finger at him and laughed a shrill discordant laugh. “Ha, ha, Sir -Priest, you think you will triumph in my despite. I dreamed a dream -last night and all the devils in hell got hold of thee.”</p> - -<p>“Peace, woman, peace, brawl not upon the Queen’s highway.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, it is not peace,” she said; “who talketh to me of peace?”</p> - -<p>“Mary, you had better go home,” said the priest kindly. “I was glad to -hear that little Mistress Aline Gillespie put in a word for you and -your folk at Newbiggin yesterday, so that there is the more reason for -your peaceful homecoming.”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Aline Gillespie,” said the old woman calming down and looking -mysteriously about her. “Mistress Aline Gillespie, nay, she is not on -our side. I see the hosts gathering for battle and she and thou are -with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> the legions of the lost. Nay, Sir Priest, mock me not and mock -not the forces that are over against you.”</p> - -<p>“Woman,” said Father Laurence, “you speak that you know not, the powers -of darkness shall flee before the powers of light.”</p> - -<p>“No, never, nothing groweth out of the ground but it withereth, nothing -is built that doth not fall to ruin, nothing made that doth not grow -old and perish, nothing born that doth not die. Destruction and death -alone triumph. Shew me one single thing of all the things that I have -seen perish before my eyes and that liveth again. No, you cannot, Sir -Priest.”</p> - -<p>“The things that are seen are temporal, the things that are unseen are -eternal,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“And who, thinkest thou, knoweth the unseen, thou or I? I tell thee -that all alike shall pass save the darkness and the void into which -all, both seen and unseen shall be swallowed up. Yes, in this very -valley where we now stand, you shall see iniquity triumph and all your -feeble prayers be brought to naught. Avaunt, avaunt, nor may I tarry -here longer.”</p> - -<p>She brushed <a name="past" id="past"></a><ins title="Original has 'passed'">past</ins> -him as she spoke, and the old priest looked sadly -after her. “Poor thing,” he said, “she is indeed in the hands of Satan.”</p> - -<p>He passed up the road on the way to Holwick and, as he entered -Benjamin’s cottage, he met Aline coming forth. The wind blew her hair -out somewhat as she stepped into the open, and the sun’s rays caught -it, while she herself was still a little in shadow and it shone like -a flaming fire. “It is a halo of glory,” said the old man to himself -as he looked into the beautiful innocent face. “Child, you did well -yesterday,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, but I am afraid, Father.”</p> - -<p>“Afraid of what, my child?”</p> - -<p>“Afraid that Mistress Mowbray was not pleased.”</p> - -<p>“Fear not, Mistress Mowbray is an honest woman, she will approve of -what thou hast said.”</p> - -<p>Aline did not like to say more; she wondered whether she had misjudged -the lady of Holwick, or whether the old man’s estimate was too -charitable.</p> - -<p>“God bless you, Aline,” he said, as she turned to go up the hill, and -before entering the door he stood and watched her out of sight.</p> - -<p>She went straight up to the Hall and found Audry. “I wonder what Ian is -doing in Carlisle now,” said Aline. “Let us go down to the secret room. -I have just met Sir Laurence Mortham. I think he looked sadder than -ever, but he is a right gentle master. Do you remember that talk we -had with Ian about our forebodings? I thought that it must have meant -Ian’s departure, but it is something more than that. I felt it again -strangely to-day when I met Father Laurence, and somehow it seemed to -me as though there was some terrible conflict going on somewhere, and -Father Laurence was trying to stop it, but that he could not do so.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do not talk like that, Aline, you do not know how creepy you make -me feel. Come.”</p> - -<p>“The room looks very melancholy now,” Audry said when they had -descended. “I always associate this room with Master Menstrie. It seems -very curious that we should discover him and the room at the same time.”</p> - -<p>“It is very cold down here,” said Audry, “let us light a fire. That -will do something to make the place more cheerful.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span></p> - -<p>“Are there any fires lit upstairs?” asked Aline, pointing to the -inscription over the fireplace.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Audry, “several, it is getting nearly winter.”</p> - -<p>So the children lit a fire and occupied themselves in giving the room a -thorough cleaning.</p> - -<p>“I wish we could open this chest,” Audry exclaimed, as she was dusting -the great iron coffer. “It is very strange that it has no lock.” Aline -came and bent over it too. But although they pressed here and pushed -there and peered everywhere, they only succeeded in getting their hair -caught on a rivet, so that both children were fastened to each other -and to the chest at the same time. So with much laughter they abandoned -the attempt for that day.</p> - -<p>“You know it’s my belief,” said Audry, “that that old iron coffer is -the most important thing in this room; people don’t put great heavy -iron coffers into secret rooms unless they have secrets inside.”</p> - -<p>“But the secrets might have been taken away,” said Aline, “although I -admit that it does not look likely. The room seems to have been unused -for so very long. But do you remember, Audry, we never finished reading -that book after all. Why should it not tell us about the chest?”</p> - -<p>“I expect it would; where is the book?”</p> - -<p>“It is in this room, I think, in one of the bookcases.” Aline rose to -fetch it, but the book was not to be found. The children hunted all -round the room, but they could not find it. They then went upstairs to -their own room, but still it was nowhere to be seen. They looked at -each other aghast.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, whatever shall we do?” said Aline. “Suppose that they find it, -then our secret room will be no longer safe.”</p> - -<p>“But they may not be able to read it,” Audry suggested.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they are sure to find out, for they will have the parchment.”</p> - -<p>“The parchment,” echoed Audry, “the parchment; then you will not be -able to write any more letters to Master Menstrie. Why, you must have -had it last night when you read his letter.”</p> - -<p>“So I must,” said Aline. “Well, that proves it cannot be out of the -house, for I have not been out except to see Walter Margrove go, and I -am certain I did not take it with me then. So it must be somewhere here -in our room.”</p> - -<p>They turned everything off the bed, they looked in the ambry, they -lifted the movable plank and looked under the sliding panel, but the -book had absolutely disappeared.</p> - -<p>“It is very mysterious; do you suppose any one has been in and taken -it, Aline; it is very small and thin, it is true, but it could not -actually vanish.”</p> - -<p>Aline sat down on the bed and could not keep back the tears. “There is -only one comfort,” she said, “and that is that Master Menstrie told us -how to make another parchment; besides I read his letter three times -over last night and I think I could make a new one from that, for I -believe I could remember it. But, oh, dear, I am certain some one has -taken the book and it will be found out, and then they will see that -the secret room has been used and will guess that that was how Master<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> -Menstrie escaped and that we helped him. It may even lead to their -finding out where he is.”</p> - -<p>Audry knelt down on the floor and put her head in her cousin’s lap, and -her arms round her waist. The late Autumn sunshine flooded the room, -but it brought no joy to the sorrowing children.</p> - -<p>“Who can have been in the room?” Audry said at last.</p> - -<p>“Elspeth, I suppose,” said Aline. “I think we must run the risk of -asking her. She cannot read, but even if she has not seen it, she might -tell some one that we had lost it. However, we must take our chance.”</p> - -<p>So they went and found Elspeth and began to talk to her about the -packman’s visit. Just as they were going Audry managed to say quite -casually, “Oh, by the way, Aline, I suppose Elspeth cannot have seen -your little book.”</p> - -<p>“What book, hinnie?” said the old dame. “I cannot read and all books -are alike to me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it was a very thin little book; I must have mislaid it in our -room. You may possibly have noticed it lying round somewhere if you -have been in there this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I have seen no such book, dearie, and I would not have touched it if I -had.”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xx" id="xx"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> -<small>PERSECUTION</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE children went about with terror in their hearts expecting every -moment that they would be discovered. On coming in to dinner they -fancied that Mistress Mowbray looked at them with unusual severity, -but she said nothing, yet perhaps it was only because Master Eustace -Cleveland of Lunedale was there.</p> - -<p>The guest looked at Audry, who came in first. “Is that your daughter?” -he said to Richard Mowbray. “By my troth, sir, but you have cause to be -proud of her.”</p> - -<p>Master Mowbray presented the child and she louted<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23" href="#Footnote_23_23" class="footnote">[23]</a> low and went -to her place. Meanwhile, Mistress Mowbray had signed to Aline to be -seated. When Master Cleveland looked across again he saw Aline and -started visibly. He did not as a rule take the least interest in -children, but this was a revelation. “I did not know that you had two -daughters,” he said, and was going to say something further, when -Mistress Mowbray, who had noticed his pleased surprise, cut him short -by saying: “She is Master Mowbray’s cousin, a Gillespie, her great -grandmother married one of those Scots; the family of course came to -grief and Richard seems to think it is his business to see after her. -But you would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> not believe the trouble she is, to look at her. It’s -amazing how sly and dishonest some girls can be. I have something to -say to you later, Aline, about what I found in your room this morning.”</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23" href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="anchor">23</span></a> The “lout” was the predecessor of the curtsey.</p></div> - -<p>Aline shook and looked terrified, to Mistress Mowbray’s joy, who was -delighted at confusing her before the stranger.</p> - -<p>Master Cleveland felt his heart fill with enmity toward Mistress -Mowbray. “I am sure that woman is a liar,” he said to himself, and he -could hardly take his eyes off Aline all through the meal, except for -an occasional glance at Audry, who also fascinated him not a little.</p> - -<p>“Well, I shall never think children uninteresting again,” he thought, -“if ever they can look like that. ’Sdeath, I should like to see those -two when they grow up, they will be fine women. That Gillespie girl is -quite uncanny,—simply to look at her makes one feel a low born brute. -Widow Pelham shall have a new cottage, by my halidame she shall; and -Jock Mostyn shall have a pension. God in heaven, what a face, and what -hands! I did not know there were such hands.”</p> - -<p>After dinner Mistress Mowbray went with her guest and Master Richard -through the Hall and the gardens, and the children escaped.</p> - -<p>Cleveland saw Aline again for a moment. He was coming back from the -garden and she nearly ran into him. “I cry you mercy, Master,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Then give me some Michaelmas daisies as a token of repentance,” he -said laughing.</p> - -<p>There was a magnificent show of huge blooms along one of the quaint -old paths, so she ran and gathered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> them and held them out. He took -them from her hand with a ceremonious bow and put them in his bonnet. -“My favour!” he said, “it is a pity there is no tourney, little lady. -Mother of God,” he added to himself, “it’s time I turned over a new -leaf.”</p> - -<p>At supper Mistress Mowbray said nothing to Aline, because her husband -was present. He for his part saw that the child was looking unhappy, -but had forgotten the remark at dinner, as Mistress Mowbray was always -saying sharp things; so he tried to enliven her.</p> - -<p>“Thou hast never read to me again, little one, to-morrow thou must -read something from one of those old books that thou hast found in the -library.”</p> - -<p>Aline trembled; then Cousin Richard knew too, she thought. What should -she do with herself?</p> - -<p>“Methinks I would as lief have some more Malory,” he went on, “and -Audry would like that too, or mayhap ye would like to ride over to -Stanhope with me, what think ye, the two of you?”</p> - -<p>Aline breathed again. Then perhaps he did not know after all. “I would -fain go to Stanhope,” she said.</p> - -<p>“So would I,” said Audry, as both the children saw that it might put -off the evil day with Mistress Mowbray. “It will be our last chance of -a good ride before the winter, it may come any time now.”</p> - -<p>The next morning therefore, the three rode over the moors to Stanhope. -It was a glorious day and Aline for a time forgot her troubles.</p> - -<p>The day following they had to go in to Middleton Market, so it was -not till after rere-supper that Eleanor Mowbray took Aline apart and -said,—“Come with me, I want to speak with you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline’s heart sank.</p> - -<p>“I want to know,” Mistress Mowbray began, “what you mean by taking such -liberties in my house? I have told you what you may have and what you -may not have, and you dare to take things to which you have no right.”</p> - -<p>Aline hung her head.</p> - -<p>“You may well look ashamed, you young hussie, but I tell you there is -going to be an end to this kind of thing. I cannot think why Master -Mowbray interfered with my arrangements about the library, when I -had forbidden you to go in, but he will not interfere this time I’ll -warrant you.</p> - -<p>“I went up into your room yesterday and found there a length of fine -new linen. What business have you to be buying fine linen withal, when -I say that any coarse dowlas is good enough for you? When you are in -this house you will crave my leave before you do such things; you will -do as I say and dress as I say or, certes, I will know wherefore.”</p> - -<p>Aline felt relieved. After all it was only the linen and Mistress -Mowbray even thought she had bought it; but the angry dame went -on;—“The more I see of you the more I mislike your conduct and I do -not care for such baggage to associate with my daughter. It would be my -will to turn you from the house, but Master Mowbray sheweth a foolish -kindness toward you, so I have compacted with my sister Anne that Audry -shall go over to Appleby right speedily and pay her a long visit. She -hath ever wanted to have the child there and it will be an opportunity -for Audry to come to know her respectable cousins, and meanwhile I can -keep you more under my eye.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p> - -<p>Poor little Aline. At the moment this seemed more terrible even than -anything that could have happened if the book had been discovered.</p> - -<p>“Moreover,” said Mistress Mowbray, “you are getting too much of the -fine lady altogether, you seem to forget that you are not a member of -this family and that your position should in sooth be that of a menial.”</p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray calculated that, with Audry out of the way, it would be -more possible for her to wreak her spite on the child without it being -known. Why should this pauper dependent, this mere skelpie, dare to -thwart her will? Master Gower and Master Latour indeed! should she not -be mistress in her own house? And by way of further justification, was -not Aline depriving Audry of her birthright, since, attracted as all -undoubtedly were by Audry, they were attracted by Aline still more?</p> - -<p>She then sent for Audry and Aline escaped to her room and flung herself -on her bed. She was too heartbroken even to cry and could only moan -piteously,—“Oh, Father dear, why did you go away and leave your -little girl all alone in the world?” She then took out the miniatures -of her father and mother and gazed at them. “Mother dear, when Father -was alive, your little motherless girl could be happy; but now it is -so very hard; but she will try to be brave.” She then knelt down and -prayed, and after that the unnatural tension passed and the tears -flowed freely, so that when Audry came up to their room she was calmer.</p> - -<p>“I call it a downright shame,” said Audry. “If I am to go to Aunt Anne, -why should not you come too? Aline, dear, I cannot bear to go away -without you. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> think I love you more than any one else in the world. -Of course I shall have my cousins, but, oh! I shall miss you; and you -will be so lonely.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but grieve not, Audry, darling, you will come back again, and in -sooth you should have a good time and Master Mowbray anyway will be -kind to me and so will Elspeth.”</p> - -<p>“But that is not the same thing at all; there will be no one even to -brush your hair, so this will be almost the last time.”</p> - -<p>The children were by now half undressed and Audry with the assistance -of the new comb went through the somewhat lengthy process of brushing -and combing the wonderful hair that reached nearly to Aline’s knees.</p> - -<p>When Aline had done the same to her, they put on their bed-gowns and -Audry said, “You must sleep with me to-night.” So Aline got into her -bed and although they both cried a little, they were soon asleep locked -in each other’s arms. The moon peeped in and lit up the picture with a -streak of light, which fell where one of Aline’s beautiful hands with -its delicate fingers and perfect skin lay out on the coverlet. No one -but the moon saw the picture, but she perhaps understood neither its -beauty nor its pathos.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxi" id="xxi"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> -<small>TORTURE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE few days before Audry’s departure ran swiftly by and Aline found -herself alone. Mistress Mowbray was determined to make the most of her -opportunity and devised all manner of new tasks “to curb her proud -spirit,” as she phrased it. What did this child mean by coming to -disturb their household, and why should she be so beautiful, a wretched -pauper Scot? Of course she must think herself better than other -people! “I have no doubt,” said Mistress Mowbray to herself, “that the -minx spends half her time when she gets the chance, looking at her -reflection in the mirror. Yes, she’s pretty, no doubt, with her saintly -hypocritical face, the Devil is handsome, they say; and I am sure she -is a bad one.” It was no use for people to argue with Mistress Mowbray -that Aline cared not the least about her looks, and indeed, strange -as it seemed, was apparently unaware of her beauty. Mistress Mowbray -only retorted that that was all part of her hypocrisy. “Why should the -child have such hands?” she angrily asked herself one day, just after -Audry had departed, “as if it wasn’t enough that she should have a face -fairer than any one else without having hands that no one could see -without comment.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span></p> - -<p>So one of Eleanor Mowbray’s devices was to set Aline to clean down some -old furniture with lye. Naturally this greatly injured the skin, and -as the cold weather set in, she contrived that the child should always -be washing something, till in a very short time the little hands were -chapped and cut and in a shocking condition round the nails. When they -were in this state she was set to clean brass and iron, until it was a -continual torture, and yet Aline did not complain.</p> - -<p>How she longed for Audry when she went lonely to her bed at night. If -only there had been some one in whom to confide it would not have been -so terrible; but day after day it was the same thing.</p> - -<p>At last the hands became so sore that one morning in handling a -pitcher, she let it fall and it was broken to atoms. This was the kind -of opportunity for which Mistress Mowbray had been looking, but Aline -was such a careful, thoughtful child that the chance had been long -in coming. She told Aline that her punishment was that she should be -confined to the house for a fortnight and in this way she knew that she -would deprive her of her principal pleasure, which was to visit the -people in the hamlet, particularly those who were sick.</p> - -<p>It was no use, when Aline offered to pay for the pitcher. Mistress -Mowbray would not hear of it. So the little girl would sit by the -window when she was not actually being made to work and watch the -oncoming winter, with the first snow on the high ground and the brown -withered grasses blown by the wind. All the purple of the heather had -long since gone and the moor looked sere and joyless. “But, oh, for a -breath of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> fresh hill-airs.” Aline gradually began to long wildly -and pine for a run in the open breeze.</p> - -<p>The longing grew to an uncontrollable desire and at last Aline, the -law-abiding innocent child, could bear the injustice no longer. After -all, Mistress Mowbray was not her mother and there was no absolute -reason why she should obey her. Master Mowbray, she knew, would -disapprove of her being kept in, and so at length she decided one -afternoon to make her way into the open along the secret passage.</p> - -<p>No sooner thought than the thought became a deed, and she found herself -swinging the stone and letting herself down into the cool open fresh -air of heaven. It seemed at once to make her better; she filled her -lungs, she laughed and stepped quickly down the stream, and then broke -into a run. Oh, the joy of it after being cooped up for so long. It was -so delightful that she was tempted to make her way down to the river -and look at the waterfall.</p> - -<p>She stood watching it and her mind turned to what she had been doing. -Was she right? After all Mistress Mowbray was her guardian and -responsible for her, no matter how cruel she might be. Aline was filled -with doubt.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I have done wrong,” she said to herself; “the world would -all go to confusion if every irresponsible person and child behaved as -it pleased toward those who have the management of things. Of course -they do not always manage properly, and they make mistakes and do -wrong, and so should I if I were in the same place. But somebody has to -manage things. Oh, dear, it is very difficult, but I suppose until I -am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> old enough and wise enough to manage things better, I must submit -to be managed and be learning how not to do things when my time comes. -I am afraid I have been very naughty.”</p> - -<p>Aline had a developed power of reasoning far beyond the average child -of her age but a capacity, however, by no means altogether uncommon, -particularly at her time of life.</p> - -<p>What was her consternation on turning round to see Thomas Carluke -standing on the bank a little lower down and watching her.</p> - -<p>He came up and spoke, saying,—“It’s a fine day, Mistress Aline; we do -not often get so good a day so late in the year. You will be enjoying -the fresh air. I noticed you have not been out much lately.”</p> - -<p>Aline winced, as she was feeling a little ashamed of herself,—but she -only said, “No, but a day like this is irresistible.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I am glad you are enjoying it,” said Thomas, with an evil look -in his eye, and turned back in the direction of Holwick.</p> - -<p>Aline wondered what to do. She felt a strong temptation to go back as -fast as possible by way of the secret passage and be in before Thomas -could get there. He would, of course, be astonished at seeing her and -would probably say something; she could then draw herself up stiffly -and say;—“Thomas, you are dreaming, I hope you have not been taking -too much liquor,” a thing of which Thomas was notoriously fond. “How -can you talk of such obvious impossibilities.” If he were inclined to -persist she could suggest that it was her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> wraith;<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24" href="#Footnote_24_24" class="footnote">[24]</a> and that would -frighten Thomas terribly, as they were all very superstitious.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24" href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="anchor">24</span></a> The ghost of a living person.</p></div> - -<p>But she felt it would not be right, however unjust Thomas and Mistress -Mowbray were, and however justified she felt in refusing to obey her.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Thomas went on gloating over his discovery, and he found -Mistress Mowbray at once.</p> - -<p>She took him into the hall and bade him be seated.</p> - -<p>So there they sat for a moment looking at each other, the sly -undersized man, with his low ill-developed forehead, and the keen -looking, cruel, but dignified woman. “What is it, Thomas?” she said.</p> - -<p>“I have but newly seen Mistress Aline out by the High Force,” he -replied, “and I know that you bade her not to go without doors.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Mistress Mowbray. “Is that all?”</p> - -<p>“That is all about Mistress Aline,” he answered, always greatly in awe -of the lady, “but, an it please you, may I have a little of the new -meal?” he added with sudden boldness.</p> - -<p>Eleanor Mowbray looked at him. This came of listening to servants’ -tales. She paused an instant; it was very undignified to be bargaining -with menials, but the man might be useful to her; she bit her lip and -then said, “Yes, Thomas, you can have a boll.”</p> - -<p>Thomas did not attempt to conceal his delight. He had obtained -something that he wanted and he had gratified his spite against Aline, -whom he hated as something petty and mean and base will often hate what -is lofty and pure and noble.</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray was glad that she had now a genuine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> case against -Aline and was determined that she would act with exceptional severity.</p> - -<p>Aline was sick at heart, there was no one in whom she could confide and -she was utterly lonely and miserable. She thought of telling Cousin -Richard, but she was rather afraid even of him; and then too, although -Mistress Mowbray was unjust, she felt that she had no right to take the -law into her own hands.</p> - -<p>She lay on her bed in a paroxysm of grief,—“Oh, I wish and I wish that -I had not done it,” she exclaimed again and again, and it was long -before she felt equal to facing Mistress Mowbray once more.</p> - -<p>When she came down to rere-supper, Mistress Mowbray was waiting. Master -Richard had not arrived. “What do you mean, you dishonest child, by -going out? I hate a child I cannot trust,” she said in freezing tones.</p> - -<p>“I have not been dishonourable, Mistress Mowbray. I never said that I -would not go out. I was disobedient and I am sorry, but if Father was -alive, he would not have liked me to be kept in doors; and I do not -think Cousin Richard would approve,” she added with some boldness, as -she knew it was really unjust and had no one to defend her.</p> - -<p>At that moment Master Mowbray entered. “What is this, about ‘Cousin -Richard’?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Aline was silent and Mistress Mowbray looked confused. After a pause, -as he was obviously waiting for an explanation, Aline said,—“An it -please you, Cousin Richard, Mistress Mowbray and I do not agree, that -is all, it is nothing.”</p> - -<p>“I insist on knowing,” said Master Mowbray.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span></p> - -<p>“I forbade Aline to go out,” said his wife, “and she not only flatly -disobeyed me, but she questioneth my authority.”</p> - -<p>“Is that so, Aline?” he asked, looking very surprised.</p> - -<p>“Yes, cousin, I did disobey and I am sorry.” Aline knew, if she said -more that he would take her side, and although she could not pretend -that she had any great love for Mistress Mowbray, yet she did not want -to get her into trouble with her husband.</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray was silent for some time and then he said, “You have -not explained everything.” He glanced at the sad little face opposite -to him and noticed that it was looking thinner and a little drawn; the -child was not only unhappy, but unwell. Surely, he thought, she has -something more to say on her side. His wife looked triumphant.</p> - -<p>“You have not explained everything,” he repeated, “have you, little -one?” he added tenderly.</p> - -<p>It was said so kindly that it was almost more than Aline could bear, -but she managed to say, “That is all that I want to say, Cousin -Richard.”</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray saw pretty well how the land really lay and said -somewhat sternly to his wife, “Eleanor, I heard my name mentioned as I -came in, I should like to know why it was used.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray had thought her triumph complete and was so taken -aback that there was not time to think of anything to say, so she could -only blurt out the truth.</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray stood up, as his manner was when roused, and walked up -and down the hall with a heavy measured tread; he was a huge, powerful -man, and although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> kind hearted, was very strict and most people, -including his wife, were afraid of him.</p> - -<p>“The child is right,” he said, “I do not approve. I cannot think what -is the matter with you and why you do not treat her more justly. -Aline,” he said, “I do not think you ought to have gone out without -my permission, but you can go out when you like. In future, however, -always ask me before you disobey Mistress Mowbray.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Cousin Richard,” said Aline, “it was wrong of me.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Richard Mowbray’s -last few words undid all that he had done before. She knew that Aline -was far too proud ever to appeal to her husband and, in a qualified -way, he had even supported her authority.</p> - -<p>So things grew worse for Aline instead of better. Mistress Mowbray had -even descended to telling Thomas to keep an eye on the child and he -followed her about whenever he could, and made her life hateful.</p> - -<p>She was occasionally able to get up to her room and down the secret -passage into the open, away from Thomas, but gradually even this grew -dangerous, as Mistress Mowbray would keep her at work all the time, -and, if she slipped away upstairs, would send some one after her to -fetch her down. Twice the messenger had gone up very soon after Aline -and had found the room empty; and Aline’s explanation that she had gone -out of doors was received with incredulity. Aline was also frightened -of meeting old Moll at the other end and always peered round nervously -as she emerged from the cave-room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span></p> - -<p>If they should follow her closely and suspect the secret passage then -she would lose her one retreat which somehow she felt might be of help -in an emergency. The secret room too was her one solace, the only thing -of interest left to her.</p> - -<p>Although she knew she was watched, she did not know to what extent and -would carry her Greek Testament about with her and pull it out and read -it when she had an opportunity. After all, neither Mistress Mowbray nor -Thomas could read, so she did not think there was much danger.</p> - -<p>Thomas, however, had noticed her take the book out of her dress and had -observed its silver clasps.</p> - -<p>His own intelligence would probably not have been sufficient to enable -him to hurt the child, but he was a friend of the priest who served -the chantry in Holwick. He was a low born fellow given to loose living -and very fond of liquor, which Thomas would occasionally manage to -steal for him from the Hall. He was one of the very few who did not -like Aline. He felt her purity and charm was a reproach to him, and -once, when she had met him in a condition somewhat the worse for drink, -she had very gently spoken to him in a reproving tone, though she did -not actually presume to reprove him. But he never forgot it. He liked -enjoining heavy penances for the gentle sweet-natured child; while -Aline, for her part, tended to avoid the confessional, when she could, -not for the penances, but because she disliked the man and felt little -or no spiritual value from communication with him.</p> - -<p>He had once or twice had slight suspicions about her orthodoxy, -although he had paid no attention to it; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> one day, when he and -Thomas were talking over a measure of stolen ale, the conversation -turned upon Aline.</p> - -<p>“I hate her pious face,” he said.</p> - -<p>“So do I,” assented Thomas. “It was a pity that Andrew did not finish -his job.”</p> - -<p>“These wretched folk think more of her than they do of me,” said the -priest. “When they are sick, it is always little St. Aline they want -and not the good Father,—‘Little St. Aline,’ ha, ha, ha!” he laughed -viciously. “The devil take her.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, that may he; it angereth me to see them blessing her and carrying -on as they do; what right has she to act so grandly with her herbs and -comforts from the Hall and her good talk? Who is she, I should like to -know? Mistress Mowbray saith she is but a dependent.”</p> - -<p>“Good talk, indeed,” said the priest. “It’s just blasphemy. What is she -to be talking about,—a girl too,—a wretched female.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a lot of evil bringers all of them, eh, Father, from Mother Eve -onwards?” and Thomas’ wicked face gave an ugly leer. “Ah, they are a -deceitful lot, and there she is breaking Mistress Mowbray’s crockery -and running out when she is forbidden and you will see her sitting with -her book as if she did not know what wrong was.”</p> - -<p>“What book?” said the priest. “Can she read?”</p> - -<p>“A fine confessor you must be,” said Thomas, “if you have not found out -that the skelpie can read. They say she can read like the Lady Jane -Grey.”</p> - -<p>“The Lady Jane Grey, a pestilent heretic! Mother Church is well quit of -her; a pestilent heretic, I say!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> Ay, and Mother Church would be well -quit of this brat with her sanctimonious ways.”</p> - -<p>“I should not wonder if she be a heretic, too,” said Thomas. “What will -Mother Church give me, if I catch her a heretic?” he asked greedily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I cannot say,” said the priest, “but I think I could do the -catching myself; but it is not in the least likely that she is a -heretic. Where could she come by it?”</p> - -<p>“You catch her forsooth! The skelpie is no fool, and she won’t blab to -the priest, but she might tell her tales to me. Indeed even if she is -not a heretic, why not make her one and get rid of her?”</p> - -<p>The priest rubbed his hands and the two heads bent close together.</p> - -<p>Thomas agreed to swear that he had heard Aline say all manner of -heretical things and this, with the testimony of Father Ambrose -himself, they reckoned would be sufficient.</p> - -<p>They were nearer the truth than they knew, but truth or no truth that -did not trouble them.</p> - -<p>Father Ambrose walked down to Middleton to discuss it with his -superior, Sir Laurence Mortham,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25" href="#Footnote_25_25" class="footnote">[25]</a> but although he painted the heretic -and her villainy in glowing colours and added that he was quite sure -that she was a witch too and had sold her soul to the devil in exchange -for beauty, he met with no response, even in a superstitious and -bigoted age.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25" href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="anchor">25</span></a> Those in priests’ orders had the title, “Sir,” in the -16th century.</p></div> - -<p>“I am probably as zealous for Mother Church as you are and far more -earnest against heresy,” said the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> priest, “but I do not agree -with your point of view or approve of your spirit. Mother Church must -be gentle and kindly and persuasive. There may now and then be a few -obdurate cases where, for the benefit of the faithful and perhaps for -the heretic himself, a warning example is necessary. It may, if he be -obdurate, be well that he should purge his sin; but it must be but -rarely and, personally, I am doubtful of its efficacy. God will punish, -and, as for the example, it will work both ways. I will go and see the -girl myself, an it please you.”</p> - -<p>Father Ambrose was afraid that this might defeat his plans; so he -pretended to fall in with the old man’s point of view and said, “Well, -perhaps, Father, you are right and it is not necessary to take further -measures just at present, so I will not trouble you.”</p> - -<p>But he had no difficulty in finding others who were more ready to -assist him, and finally he got the matter carried to Bishop Bonner -himself.</p> - -<p>Unhappy as Aline was, she was, of course, quite unconscious of what was -in store for her, although something unusual in Thomas’ manner made her -suspicious. He was aggressively obsequious and tried to induce her to -talk to him, but she would say little.</p> - -<p>One day, however, there arrived a tall priest with instructions to make -a preliminary enquiry. Master Mowbray happened to be out, so he was -taken to the lady of Holwick.</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray opened her eyes in astonishment when she heard that -Aline was accused of heresy. “I knew the jade was of little worth,” she -said, “but to think of that!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline was sent for and the priest plied her with questions. He was very -wily and spoke in a kindly way and tried to lead her on. It was soon -very clear that she knew a good deal about the Bible that most people -did not know. It was equally clear that, comparatively speaking, she -attached little importance to the dogmas and authority of the church. -But though unorthodox and heretically inclined, it was difficult to -make a case against her from anything she said.</p> - -<p>The child was so transparently honest that it was impossible to -reconcile her position with Thomas’ fabrications. However, this was -Father Martin’s first case and he was naturally anxious to prove his -zeal for the cause, to his superiors, so he made of it what he could.</p> - -<p>Not until he had secured every piece of evidence likely to help him, -did he broach the subject of the book, which he thought was probably -another of Thomas’ fictions.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said he, “you have a book that you carry about with you. -Show it me.”</p> - -<p>Aline hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Shew it me at once,” he said sternly.</p> - -<p>“I will make her shew it,” said Mistress Mowbray, seizing the child -roughly.</p> - -<p>“You can let her alone, madam,” said the priest. “Child, hand me the -book.”</p> - -<p>Aline drew it forth and he looked at it. He could not read a word of -Greek, and at first looked visibly chagrined; but he turned to the -title-page, which was in Latin.</p> - -<p>“Can you read this?” he said. Aline bowed assent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is a most pernicious book. How much have you read?”</p> - -<p>“All the first part and most of the rest.”</p> - -<p>He wished it had been an English translation, as his case would have -been easier. “Have you an English translation?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Aline, and he could see that she spoke the truth.</p> - -<p>“Who gave it you, or how did you get it?” he asked next.</p> - -<p>Aline was silent.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said, “did you find it, or was it given you?”</p> - -<p>Aline still held her peace.</p> - -<p>“I must know this,” he said impatiently, but Aline vouchsafed no reply.</p> - -<p>“I cannot wait for you,” he went on, his voice rising. “Answer my -question this instant.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot do it,” she said.</p> - -<p>“By the authority of Mother Church, I command you to speak,” he cried -angrily.</p> - -<p>Aline looked up at him fearlessly, as she sat there opposite to him on -the other side of the long narrow table, her beautiful arms stretched -over toward him and the delicate fingers moving nervously. The great -masses of rich glowing hair flowed in waves over the board, and the -perfect oval face with the chin slightly lifted showed the exquisite -ivory skin of her throat, subtly changing into the more pearly tones of -her face. The sensitive lovely lips with their clear cut form, trembled -a little, but she said bravely,—“It would not be right, Father Martin. -I am ready to suffer for anything I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> have done myself, but I cannot -reveal what is not my secret.”</p> - -<p>Father Martin looked at her. “Mother of God and St. Anthony!” he -exclaimed. He had never seen anything so beautiful as the sight before -him in the fine old hall and he feared he might relent. He cast his -eyes down, he would not look at her. Indeed she was a witch, a witch -and yet so young! “Do you dare to deny the authority of Mother Church?” -he hissed. “You are a heretic and guilty of contumacy. You blaspheme.” -Then turning to Mistress Mowbray he continued, “See that she is -confined to her room and fed on bread and water till she comes to her -senses. Failing that, the rack!”</p> - -<p>He rose to his full height and gave her one contemptuous glance, -curling his thin lips and drawing down his brows, while the nostrils -of his aquiline nose were lifted in scorn. “Good day to you, Mistress -Mowbray,” he said, “see to my instructions,” and he departed.</p> - -<p>Aline went up to her room as bidden. Eleanor Mowbray followed. She did -not lock the door, as, in her heart of hearts, even she trusted Aline -as she would trust the laws of nature, much as she hated her. Aline -might disobey, but she would never break her word. “Do not pass through -that door again, until you are told. Promise me.”</p> - -<p>“I would rather you locked it,” said Aline. “The house might catch fire -and I could not stay and be burned, even to obey you.”</p> - -<p>“Little fool,” said Mistress Mowbray, “if the door were locked you -would be burned anyhow.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span></p> - -<p>“That would be your doing, though. I should not have to do it myself. I -want to keep my own liberty of action.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray slammed the door and went down-stairs. But she did not -lock it.</p> - -<p>Aline was merely thinking in a vague general way that it would be risky -to make any such promise and did not realise how nearly her words might -have applied to the actual facts.</p> - -<p>She sat down on the edge of her bed, dazed. Surely she had been singled -out for misfortune; blow after blow had fallen upon her, and she was -only twelve and a half years old. First she had been left motherless, -then her father’s small estate had been ruined. Next she was made an -orphan. Then she had lost her only friends Ian and Audry and was left -to the cruelties of Mistress Mowbray. And now there was this. The -little heart almost grew bitter and she was tempted to say;—“I do -not mind if they do kill me, everything is so terrible and sad and, O -Father dear, your little girl is so very very lonely and unhappy she -would like to die and come to you.”</p> - -<p>But the thought of her father made her think of life again and some of -life’s happy days and of Audry and Ian, and she gave a great sob and -a lump came into her throat; but she checked it before the tears came -and stood up and drew herself together. “Father would have me brave; -Ian would have me brave. Come, this is no time for crying, I must think -hard.”</p> - -<p>“I might get out on to the moor at night, but I should certainly be -caught. Besides I have nowhere to go.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span></p> - -<p>“I could disappear into the secret room, but I should soon starve—for -all the food I could get.</p> - -<p>“I might get over to Audry at Appleby, but that would be no use in the -end; what should I do next? Still if I could have her back here, she -could feed me in the secret room.</p> - -<p>“Then again Ian might be able to help—I must get a letter to Audry and -a letter to Ian.”</p> - -<p>So she sat down and wrote; and it was not until she began to write -to others that she fully realised the desperateness of her situation -and that, if help did not come, she would certainly be imprisoned and -tortured on the rack and probably burnt alive. Aline knew that they -thought nothing of hanging children, often for quite trivial offences -and had heard of plenty of instances of executions of children under -twelve.</p> - -<p>When she had finished writing the day was nearly done and she crept -very forlornly into bed. Her head ached and her heart ached still more -and she fell a-thinking how the letters were to be sent. Even if Walter -Margrove should come she would not see him, though it was getting time -for his return. She was getting desperate. She pressed her little hands -against her forehead and at last the stifled tears broke forth. They -were some relief and bye and bye she fell asleep.</p> - -<p>The next morning old Elspeth came to her room to bring her bread and -water. She was shocked when she saw the condition of the child. The -sleep had been broken and feverish and Aline looked wretchedly ill.</p> - -<p>“O hinnie,” she said, “my hinnie, what have they been doing to you -now? Prithee do what they want,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> dearest. I cannot bear to see you -shut up here. See, I have brought you a pasty with chicken in it. Old -Elspeth will not see you starve, dear heart; and Walter Margrove came -yesternight after they put you up here and he hath sent you this little -packet. He said if I gave you the linen I could be trusted to give you -this. ‘Trusted,’ indeed! I trow so; what aileth the man?”</p> - -<p>Aline sat up in bed and stretched out her hand eagerly and as she took -the packet she wondered whether she dare send her letters by Elspeth. -On the whole she felt it was rather risky to send Ian’s, but Audry’s -would not rouse the old dame’s suspicion. Should she chance them both? -“Is he downstairs now?” she said.</p> - -<p>“No, hinnie,” said Elspeth, “he had to leave very suddenly this -morning.”</p> - -<p>Aline fell back on the bed but managed to turn her face away and say in -a half joking tone;—“Oh, dear, how unlucky! Margrove always makes a -pleasant change and I have been so stupid as to miss him.”</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry, dearie,” said Elspeth; “I am sure he would have been -right fain to see you, he hath a great fancy for you, I know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, an they keep me up here till he cometh again, you tell me, -Elspeth, there’s a dear, when he is here; and I will write a little -note to him. He hath been very kind to me.”</p> - -<p>“All right, hinnie,” and Elspeth went down-stairs.</p> - -<p>Aline ate the bread and the pasty. She was not hungry but she knew that -she was getting ill and she thought that it would help her to keep up -her strength, if she ate all that she could. As she ate, she turned -the parcel over and over with her left hand. It was a bitter blow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> -that Margrove had gone; but here was Ian’s letter and it might mark -the turning of the tide. When she had finished she still looked at the -packet for a few moments, wondering, hoping, dreaming.</p> - -<p>The figure of Ian rose to her mind, sitting as he often did, leaning -back with his hands clasped round one knee and the foot raised from the -ground.</p> - -<p>She had found her knight; would he be able to rescue her? True, he -was only a carpenter, but in his many travels and experiences he had -acquired so many accomplishments that no one would know that he was not -of gentle blood. “Oh! I do wish he were here,” she said; “yes, even if -he could not help me I wish I could see him again;—well, this is from -him.” So she opened the packet.</p> - -<p>The first thing that she saw was a beautiful pair of silk hose of a -very rich deep blue. Fastened to these was a label, saying:—“These are -from Walter Margrove and myself, mainly from Walter.”</p> - -<p>They were an absolutely new thing in Britain, although they had been in -use for a short time in Italy, and were so much lovelier than anything -she had ever seen before that she could not resist the temptation of -trying them on at once. She threw off the bedclothes and stretched -out one small rosy foot, straight as a die on the inner side, and -altogether perfect with its clearly articulated toes and exquisitely -formed nails. Aline was blissfully unaware that there was not another -to compare with it in the whole world except its own fellow delicately -poised on the firmly built but slender ankle, which she drew up and -slipped into the delightful soft silk hose. It fitted to perfection.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span></p> - -<p>She then put on the other and stood up, holding her little nightrobe -high while she looked down to admire them. Aline had not the slightest -touch of vanity, but new clothes are new clothes all the world over. -She then stepped across to Audry’s cherished and rare possession, a -long mirror which had come from Italy. “They really are a glorious -blue,” she thought, as the light fell on the soft lustrous material.</p> - -<p>She had pleated the middle of the nightrobe into a sort of band round -her waist; the front below the neck was unfastened, so that the effect -was that of a short tunic. “Why, I look like a boy!” she said to -herself; “if it were not for my hair.”</p> - -<p>In spite of her slimness there was a muscular development, very refined -and beautiful in line, that was distinctly boyish. Her slender hips and -exceptionally well modelled forearms, which were bare, completed the -illusion.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I look like the pages I used to see in Edinburgh”; and then a -bright thought struck her;—“If ever I have to try and escape I shall -dress up as a boy.” She pinned the nightdress with the broad belt as it -was, with the lower hem reaching to the thigh. It fell down at the back -somewhat, but that did not show in the mirror. She then hurried down -the secret stair and came back with a man’s bonnet that she had there -noticed among the things. She had such an immense quantity of hair that -it was only by twisting it very tightly indeed that she was able to get -it into the bonnet; but she succeeded at last. She was rather tall for -her age, although her form was still absolutely that of a child, and an -admirable boy she made.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span></p> - -<p>Aline laughed aloud; it was the first time that she had laughed for a -weary while.</p> - -<p>“Now let me read the letter,” she said. She took off the stockings and -folded them neatly up, put them away and opened the letter.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">“To my dear little Aline,</p> - -<p>“Walter Margrove hath kindly promised to bear this letter. It is -with deep regret that I will tell thee how that my plans have not -prospered. As thou knowest, I have been working with one, Matthew -Musgrave, a carpenter, hoping to lay by money that eventually I -might betake me to the road like our friend Walter. But Matthew -hath been sick of an ague these many weeks past and I find that -he hath little or nothing saved. I have done what I might but -my small means are exhausted, and we are even in debt for the -purchase of wood. The boy, Will Ackroyd, hath also been somewhat -of an anxiety to me, so that I am much cast down in spirit and -indeed as Matthew will tell thee am somewhat ailing in body. This -I regret the more as thy face liveth ever before me and I have -thought that it might at any moment be needful for me to come -unto thine assistance, whereas I even fear that I am not in any -wise able. I trust that Mistress Mowbray is not treating thee ill -and that thou and that dear child, thy cousin, are enjoying all -happiness.</p> - -<p>“My hard times will doubtless pass and better will come. I think -of thee day and night and pray for thee without ceasing; and -sweet child, remember that whatever the difficulties, I would -fight through everything to come to thine aid if need should -arise.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow I hope to be able to send thee some small token from -Walter’s pack. Meanwhile I say,—May the peace of the Lord Jesus -be with thee and all the love of this poor mortal heart is thine; -as Homer saith; ‘for that thou, lady, hast given me my life.’</p> - -<p>“My blessing and love be also to thy cousin Audry, for right -kindly did she minister to me.</p> - -<p class="mb0">“Farewell, bright angel of my dreams.</p> - -<p class="right2 mt0">“<span class="smcap">Ian Menstrie.</span></p> - -<p>“An so be that thou writest, it is better to put upon the cover -the name of James Mitchell whereby I am known here.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Ian had been very seriously ill himself from trying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> to undertake more -than was possible. His unceasing care and tender watchfulness had saved -Musgrave’s life, but it was nearly at the cost of his own and he was -but a shadow of his former self.</p> - -<p>Aline’s sympathetic little heart read more between the lines than Ian -had intended her to see and the letter seemed the last drop in her cup -of sorrow.</p> - -<p>It was too much and this time she fainted right away. When she came to, -she found that she was lying on the floor and old Elspeth was bending -over her and sprinkling water on her face. The old woman was nearly -beside herself with grief. “O my bonnie bonnie child, what shall poor -Elspeth do? They will kill you, heart of mine, if they go on in this -way. See you are cold as a stone and nothing on you but this thin rag -and that unfastened too.” She lifted the child back into bed and rushed -down-stairs to the kitchen, where she found some hot broth ready for -the table and came back with a bowl of it.</p> - -<p>On the way she met Mistress Mowbray.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing, Elspeth?” the lady almost shrieked.</p> - -<p>“Mistress Aline was in a dead faint on the floor of her room and stone -cold and like enough to die. Such goings on as there have been in this -house lately I have never seen in all my days. First the child is -nearly murdered by that ne’er do weel Andrew and now the whole house -seems bent on doing the same. In my young days old Mistress Mowbray -would not have countenanced such doings and the priests, gramercy, knew -better than to meddle in other folk’s houses.”</p> - -<p>Elspeth who had known three generations of Mowbrays<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> was a privileged -person, but this was more than even she had ever before ventured to say.</p> - -<p>“How dare you speak like that?” said Mistress Mowbray.</p> - -<p>“Marry, you would not have the child’s death at your door, would you, -whatever the priest may bid? That at least was not of his ordering.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Mowbray glared at her, but said, “Well, take the broth; how -was I to know the child had fainted? Yet i’ faith she shall not have -all of that,” and she took the bowl and carried it down and poured half -of it back. When Elspeth reached the child she was so overcome that she -could only sit on the bed and moan. Aline put her arm out and took the -old woman’s hand and stroked it and said,—“Elspeth, do not take it so -to heart. I am all right and, look you, the broth is excellent. See, I -shall be quite well again in a moment. A little faint is nothing. Tell -me how deep the snow is on the road to Middleton and how the sheep are -getting on in this cold and whether there be any news from Appleby.”</p> - -<p>So she gradually coaxed Elspeth away from the subject of her own -troubles and even made her smile by telling her about the blue hose and -how she had tried them on, and how pleased with them she was; but she -kept the little plan of dressing up like a boy to herself.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxii" id="xxii"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> -<small>TO THE RESCUE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HAT evening Elspeth went down to the Arnsides. She was really very -much concerned at the line that things were taking and, staunch -Catholic as she was, she had no mind to have her little mistress ill -used. She of course knew nothing about her neighbour’s faith and simply -went to them because of their interest in Aline; and she told them the -whole story from the time of the coming of Father Martin.</p> - -<p>“We helped her with the linen,” she said, “but I fear this is a more -difficult matter; but it makes my heart bleed for the poor innocent and -she only twelve years old. We can manage to feed her, but the child -will pine away shut up there. I cannot think what to do.”</p> - -<p>“The thing would be to get Mistress Audry back,” said Janet. “That -would be something.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, that would it,” Elspeth assented.</p> - -<p>They talked it over for some time and Elspeth decided that she would -try and say something in an indirect way to Master Mowbray, which might -result in his sending for his daughter.</p> - -<p>When she was gone John turned to his mother,—“Mother, somehow I -believe Walter Margrove is the man to help us, and he told us to let -him hear how things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> went and they have gone a deal worse than any of -us could have dreamed. He knows the world and he knows, too, what the -real risk is. Even if Mistress Audry comes back, methinks that will not -alter the true danger.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said his mother, “but Master Walter was here but yesterday, how -are we to get him?”</p> - -<p>John thought for a time and then said,—“I have no regular work here -and Silas, who sees to my hours, is one of our faith. I would even risk -telling him something; although I need not say it is for Mistress Aline -that I want to see Walter.”</p> - -<p>“But how would you find Walter even if you did consult Silas?” said his -mother.</p> - -<p>“That should not be difficult,” said John. “He always calls at Carlisle -on his rounds and I think I heard him say that he expected to be there -this time within a sennight. In any case, however, he gets there long -enough before he gets here. He generally stays with one, Timothy -Fenwick, at the sign of the Golden Keys.”</p> - -<p>“How will you go,” said his mother, “round by Middleton?”</p> - -<p>“No, it is such a long way round; I shall keep this side the river.”</p> - -<p>“What, with all this snow!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, if I can get off to-day; the sky is clear and the weather set and -the snow hard.”</p> - -<p>“Well, good-bye, my boy. God bless you and I trust the Lord will grant -you success.”</p> - -<p>John Arnside obtained the permission with no trouble at all, made -himself up a bundle, put it on a stick over his shoulder, kissed his -mother and set off.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span></p> - -<p>Fortune favoured him and on the third day he was in Carlisle without -mishap.</p> - -<p>He enquired for the Golden Keys and easily found the house, but Walter -was not there. He found, however, a man seated by the fire; he was of -medium height, lightly built and well proportioned. He looked very ill -and was holding one knee with his hands as he leaned back, and was -gazing into the fire with his deep set eyes.</p> - -<p>“Come and sit by the fire, lad, the day is cold.”</p> - -<p>John came as invited. “I heard you asking for Walter Margrove,” said -the stranger, “he will not be here for some time. I hope your business -is not of importance.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the boy, “I must just wait, unless you could tell me where -he is to be found.”</p> - -<p>“That could not I,” replied the other. “I know he was going to -Newcastle and then up Tyne and down Tees; after that I think he was -going to Skipton and West to Clitheroe and then North. He should be -somewhere on the Tees now, I reckon, perhaps down as far as Rokeby.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know the Tees?” said John.</p> - -<p>The man lifted his grey deep set eyes; they had a far away look in -them, as though he did not see the boy before him. They were watching -the Tees come over the High Force and the rainbow that hung in the -quivering spray.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know the Tees,” he said at length. “I know the Tees.</p> - -<p>“Do <em>you</em> know the Tees?” he went on; and it seemed to John that the -hollow eyes in the sick man’s face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> looked at him hungrily. “Maybe you -come from those parts yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I do,” said John; “I was born and bred in Upper Teesdale.”</p> - -<p>“What is your name?”</p> - -<p>“John Arnside.”</p> - -<p>The man looked at him and then the sad eyes seemed to brighten a -little. “John Arnside, son of Janet Arnside?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said John, wondering what was coming next.</p> - -<p>The man got up and closed the door softly, he then came back and held -out his hand to the boy. “I am so glad to see you, John; I know about -you. I heard you asking for Walter Margrove, and oh,” he continued, -apprehensively, “I do hope it is nothing about Mistress Aline that -brings you here. Yes, I know quite well who you are and you may trust -me.”</p> - -<p>John’s was a simple nature and not easily suspicious; he just hesitated -a moment and then reflected that if he merely said what was known to -every one he could not do any harm. Walter Margrove’s part in the -matter, he could keep for the present as a second string to his bow.</p> - -<p>“They say that Mistress Aline is a heretic,” he said, “and they are -going to burn her.”</p> - -<p>The man clutched at the table to try and prevent himself from falling; -the shock was so terrible in his weak condition; but he slipped back -and was only saved by the boy catching him as he fell.</p> - -<p>“O God,” he exclaimed, “not so, not so.”</p> - -<p>He then made a tremendous effort and pulled himself together, but it -was enough for John, there was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> doubt that this stranger was in some -way as interested in Aline’s welfare as himself.</p> - -<p>“We must save her then,” said the stranger in a steady voice, while -within him his thoughts and feelings tossed as in a storm.</p> - -<p>“Marry though, what are we to do?”</p> - -<p>“Let us sit down and think— Now look you here; it is not easy to think -quickly, but we must act quickly. Can you get speech of Mistress Aline?”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered John; “she is confined to her room, but old Elspeth sees -her.”</p> - -<p>“Can you write, John?”</p> - -<p>“Gramercy no, Master, you would hardly expect the likes of me to be -able to do that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you must get her my letter, somehow, and, furthermore, tell me -what you yourself are willing to do for Mistress Aline.”</p> - -<p>“I would give my life for her,” said John simply.</p> - -<p>“Then,” said the other, looking him straight in the face, “you must hie -you home at once and I will follow as soon as I can be ready. Keep a -sharp look-out for the inquisitors and, if I do not come before them, -you must get speech of her by hook or by crook and tell her that I, -James Mitchell, told you that she must reveal to you our secret and -that you must feed her. She will know what that means and you must do -as she bids you. Indeed, if you get there before me, you had better do -this in any case.”</p> - -<p>“Surely I will; how could I other?”</p> - -<p>“Marry then, hasten; for, even now we know not what an hour may bring -forth. We must not wait for Walter, though he would have been our best -aid. God speed thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> feet, John; my heart goes with thee and I myself -shall follow hard after thee.”</p> - -<p>Without more ado John took his small bundle and started off at once.</p> - -<p>Ian was nearly beside himself, the shock had brought on the pains in -his head and he put his hands to his throbbing brows and strove to -think. His money had all gone; how was he to act? Certainly the first -thing was to get the child away somewhere, but how even was that to -be done without horses? If only Margrove and his horses had been to -hand! But that was a vain wish. Of course she could be concealed in the -secret room, but he felt this was too perilous. There was risk enough -in feeding him when Aline and Audry had been in the house. Suspicion -would be roused tenfold if Aline were simply to disappear. John would -certainly be seen, sooner or later, carrying food to the gully. -Mortifying as the discovery of old Moll had been, it was a mercy to be -forewarned. No, it might do as a very temporary expedient, but no more.</p> - -<p>Of course it might be just within the bounds of possibility to get -horses from Holwick Hall itself; but failure would mean absolute and -irretrievable disaster. No again, nothing must be left to chance. -Suddenly a thought struck him, there were horses on the estate where -Andrew Woolridge worked. Possibly Andrew might help him and, if not, -the risk was comparatively small.</p> - -<p>This then decided him. He would set out immediately; but there was one -more thing to consider. Should he say anything to the boy, Wilfred? It -was true, he argued, that the more people that knew, the greater the -chance of discovery. But on the other hand, if anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> should happen -to him, how was Aline to be saved? After all there was still Walter -Margrove, who would surely attempt to do something. Finally he went and -found Wilfred.</p> - -<p>“Wilfred,” he said, “I want to ask a favour of thee.”</p> - -<p>“That mayest thou well ask, Master Mitchell.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I shall not tell thee more than that it concerns a matter of -life and death, so that if any enquire of thee, there will be little -that thou canst say, however they question thee. But when Walter -Margrove cometh, tell him that Mistress Aline is in great jeopardy and -let him do that which seemeth him best and may the Lord quicken his -steps.”</p> - -<p>“What, the little lady of whom they were talking one night not long -syne?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that same; now be faithful to us, Wilfred.”</p> - -<p>“But, Master Mitchell, thou art not going to leave us,” said the boy -piteously. “After all that thou hast done for us that cannot be. See, -prithee let me come with thee an thou must go.”</p> - -<p>Ian considered for a moment as to whether the boy might be a help or -a hindrance and decided that it would rather complicate matters than -otherwise to take him.</p> - -<p>“No, Wilfred, it cannot be,” he said; “but thou mightest, so far as -thou art able, go out on the road to Brampton when thou art not at work -and keep a look-out for me coming from Alston or Kirkoswald between the -third and the seventh day from <a name="quote4" id="quote4"></a><ins title="Orignal has closing quotation mark">now.</ins></p> - -<p>“Indeed thou mightest do better. I will show thee more. Keep thine eyes -and ears open for all the gossip of the city. I know thee well enough -to know that thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> wouldst not see any one burned alive and I go to -save one from the burning. If thou hearest aught of inquisitors come as -far south along the road as thou mayest.”</p> - -<p>Wilfred bade good-bye and promised by all that was holy that he would -do everything that he could.</p> - -<p>Ian had decided to take nothing but one small wallet, as less likely to -rouse suspicion, and started off. What was his horror, before he had -gone ten paces from the door, to see a group of black robed figures -on horseback approaching the hostelry, and his horror increased to -terror when he recognised one of the figures as Father Austin, who had -superintended, when he himself had been tortured in York.</p> - -<p>The keen shrewd face shewed instant recognition in spite of Ian’s -altered appearance. “Whither away, Ian Menstrie? Come return to the -hostelry with us and have a talk with an old friend.” An evil smile of -triumph spread over his face and he added quietly but firmly to his -attendants,—“That is the man we have sought these many months, our -Lady hath delivered him into our hands.”</p> - -<p>Ian said nothing, but Wilfred, who was still standing at the door, -said,—“That is not Ian Menstrie, that is Master James Mitchell.”</p> - -<p>“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Mitchell,” said Father -Austin sarcastically, bowing from his horse.</p> - -<p>“My name is Ian Menstrie,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“You have varying names then, like a gaol-bird,” replied the inquisitor -with a sneer.</p> - -<p>“We shall have two for our burning, perdy!” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> continued to his -companion. “It will make a right merrie blaze. What think you, Father -Martin?”</p> - -<p>“Burning’s too good for them; I would give them a taste of something -first. As for that young witch up in Holwick, the Devil will be sorry -to see her in Hell before her time. If she had lived to grow up, she -would have charmed men’s souls to Satan more surely than any siren ever -charmed a mariner.”</p> - -<p>“If we burn the body shall we not save the soul?” said Father Austin.</p> - -<p>“That doctrine liketh me not; no, Father, methinks in these cases we do -but hasten the final judgment.”</p> - -<p>“Have a care, friend, lest these be heresies also.”</p> - -<p>“I a heretic! That is a mirthful jest.” Then looking toward Ian he went -on,—“As for this fellow, he seems a sickly creature; I reckon by the -looks of him that he has not long to live. But it is good for the souls -of the faithful that he should blaze to the glory of God rather than -die in his bed. Marry, methinks he is like enough to faint even now.”</p> - -<p>Nothing but Ian Menstrie’s iron will indeed prevented it. The pains -shot through his head like knives and his back and joints ached as -though red hot with fire, but it was nothing to the anguish of his -heart; yet he felt that his only chance was to keep up somehow.</p> - -<p>He would have died on the rack some five months ago had it not been -for his sheer strength of will. He had done it before, he would do it -again; he would defy them yet.</p> - -<p>Great cold beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, but he held -himself erect. “Is it Timothy Fenwick’s hostelry you seek, gentlemen?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span></p> - -<p>There was a touch of defiance, even of scorn, in the lordly ring of -his voice. Father Austin knew only too well that, clever as he was -himself, he was no match for this man, who had beaten him once; “But he -shall not escape me this time,” he said to himself, and having already -alighted, he followed into the hostelry. “The day is past its prime,” -he remarked, “and we have caught our main game. We have come far and -there is no haste. We will bide here and rest till Wednesday; the -little bird at Holwick will not flutter far, I warrant ye.”</p> - -<p>It amused Father Austin to have Ian with them at meals to taunt him and -to gloat over his own triumph. Ian realised that he would have little -chance unless he were well nourished, so he fell in with their scheme -and humoured them. At first he would talk brightly to the others and -then, as he was an excellent raconteur and had a pretty wit, he made -himself such good company that they could ill spare him. He played -with Father Austin, assuming an attitude of deference and fear with an -anxious desire to please; but if he wanted to retire to rest, he would -lead him into an argument and when the father was worsted he would -order the guards to take Ian to his room.</p> - -<p>Again, by extraordinary will power, he would achieve the almost -impossible feat of forcing himself to sleep. It was Aline’s only -chance, he argued; and in that way he almost miraculously overcame the -raging torments of his mind.</p> - -<p>By the Wednesday he had even recovered slightly and felt rather like -one going into battle than like a beaten man. He had thought out -several plans; but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> best one was to try and contrive to cross the -ford of the Eden when it was getting dark. For this some delay was -necessary, and he even managed to whisper to Wilfred unobserved, while -he set the company off into boisterous and uncontrollable laughter, -that he should loosen one of the horse’s shoes. He reckoned further -to be able to do something more in the way of delay by his powers of -conversation.</p> - -<p>Another part of his scheme was to put his captors off the scent, if he -should succeed in making his escape, and therefore he took occasion to -remark; “Well, Father, and when we set out on our travels, whither are -we bound? Is it south we shall be going?”</p> - -<p>“Forsooth, man, you do not think we should go north, do you?”</p> - -<p>“No, may be not; but I should like to see Scotland again.”</p> - -<p>“Trouble not yourself, you will never see Scotland more; and when next -I visit Scotland the Regent Mary will be glad to hear that her daughter -has one heretic the less among her subjects.”</p> - -<p>“But what if I should reach Scotland first,” said Ian jocularly. “That -might spoil the pleasure of your visit.”</p> - -<p>“There is no fear of that,” replied the other.</p> - -<p>“Bishop Bonner may think differently from yourself,” Ian rejoined; “it -is not every heretic that even Bonner burns. There’s many a slip twixt -cup and lip; and Bonner might send me to Scotland if I promised to stay -there. I warrant if once I were on that side again, there would be -little temptation to come over.”</p> - -<p>“Come, this is no time for talking, we must be off,” said Father -Austin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span></p> - -<p>All fell out as Ian had planned; the shoe was quite loose and before -they had reached the city gate, Ian said to Father Martin, “Methinks, -Father, your mare will shortly cast her shoe.”</p> - -<p>So they returned to the hostelry where there was a smithy. Ian then -succeeded in getting them all interested in a thrilling narrative just -as the mare was ready, and put off the time until it seemed best to -stay and have dinner before starting. More stories lengthened the meal, -so that it was not till well on in the afternoon of the short winter -day that they actually set out.</p> - -<p>Ian was placed in the middle, surrounded by the guards, with loaded -pistols, and his hands were tied, but not very tightly, as they allowed -him to hold the reins. Try as he would he could not help the violent -beating of his heart. Could he, one man, unarmed and bound, outwit all -these knaves? The vision of little Aline rose before him. “I must fight -the very fates,” he said to himself, “verily, I must win.” His thoughts -travelled back to those days, long ago, when as a mere child he had -given his heart-worship to the beautiful girl who had gone from him, -but whom he had loved with a passionate devotion ever since. He had -said practically nothing to Aline, but he was sure that he knew whence -the strange likeness came; and for the double claim that she had upon -him, fate, that had so cruelly treated him long ago, should be made to -yield. He felt the strength of his own will like a white fire and then -he trembled for a moment lest he should be fighting against God. “O -Lord,” he prayed, “Thou hast brought me on this road and Thou hast made -this lovely child; let her not perish by the machinations of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> evil men. -Take my life, O God, give me all torture and the terrible burning, but -grant her happiness.”</p> - -<p>He felt a sudden influx of power and prayed again a prayer of -thankfulness. “Yes,” he said, “I will bend fate to my will and God will -smile on my struggle and then I will yield myself to Him and He shall -toss me into the void or do unto me in my despite whatsoever seemeth -Him good.”</p> - -<p>It was a long road and the spirits of the party flagged. It was, -moreover, bitterly cold, but Ian had not dared to put on more clothing -for fear that it should defeat his plans. There had been a thaw and -he watched anxiously for the river. He had succeeded during the long -ride, in very considerably loosening the cord that tied his wrists, -and although it was still quite tight round one wrist and he could not -be certain of freeing the other, he was sure that he could slip it -sufficiently to get twenty to thirty inches of free play between his -hands. He had managed, too, greatly to fray the portion that would be -the connecting piece.</p> - -<p>It was getting dusk when they reached the river, and, owing to the -recent heavy weather and thaws, the ford was so high that the water was -more than up to the horses’ girths. Ian’s heart beat more violently -than ever; it seemed almost as though it could be heard. “Aline, Aline, -had she no more reliable deliverer than himself?”</p> - -<p>As they crossed, the horses had to pick their way and they spread out a -good deal so that they were almost in a line, with Ian in the middle, -who managed also to coax his horse a little bit down the stream. He -then nerved himself for the supreme effort and, first jerking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> his -horse back almost on to its haunches, so as to give in the gloom the -appearance of the animal having stumbled, he flung himself from its -back shrieking,—“Help, help,” as he went. As soon as the water closed -over him he struck out and swam under water as far as he possibly -could. Unfortunately the cord did not break as he hoped and the -swimming was exceedingly difficult, but there was sufficient play of -cord to make the feat quite possible, and the swift current helped him -not a little.</p> - -<p>It was perhaps fortunate that nearly all the pistols were discharged -at once, before he came to the surface, as they were fired at random -into the confused water round the horse, which had some difficulty in -regaining its footing.</p> - -<p>When he rose he immediately took a breath and went under again. Only -one man was looking in that direction and he did not seriously think -that the dark spot in the turbid river was really anything; where -occasionally a half hidden boulder would appear above the water. But he -took aim, more or less mechanically or from intuition, and fired, and -the bullet actually grazed Ian’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>Before he had appeared again the little company had turned to the -riderless horse and those who had lances were prodding into the deeps -of the river. Again he swam under water; it was still very shallow and -he bruised himself several times more or less severely on the boulders -in the river bed. He did this twice more and the water grew deeper; and -then he ventured to glance back. They were already but dimly visible -and he knew that he himself was out of sight, so he slowly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> made for -the bank with some difficulty across the current. When he reached the -bank they were no longer to be seen, and he was glad to get out of the -icy water. But the air was miserably cold, even more trying, as is -often the case, than during the frost itself.</p> - -<p>He was only two miles from Andrew’s cottage, which he had once visited, -and he wondered whether it would be safe for him to go there at once. -After all, the risk was about as great one way as another. Besides, -he hoped that they would think he was drowned and, even if they did -not, that they would think he would endeavour to make his way north -to Scotland. In any case it would not take him long to perish from -exposure. Of course, he would have to cross his enemies’ tracks and he -decided to keep near the water’s edge as at least affording some chance -of escape. He soon managed to get rid of the cord that tied his hands -and crept along by the wooded banks looking and listening intently.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes he heard voices and they grew louder; he lay down -on the brink and waited a moment. In the still evening they could be -heard quite distinctly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the fellow is drowned right enough,” said one of the voices.</p> - -<p>“Yes, curse the knave,” said the other voice, which was that of Father -Austin. “It grieveth me sore. Mother Church hath missed an opportunity -for a great lesson. I would even that we had his corpse, it would be -something to show; and at the least I should get the credit for the -bringing of the loon to his death. I am greatly afeared lest he may -have gotten away to Scotland. Did he not say something to me himself -about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> Scotland and the slip twixt cup and lip? He is a deep one as I -know to my cost. I would that this had happened earlier in the day. It -will be quite dark in about half an hour. Beshrew me, how came it that -the rogue was not tied?”</p> - -<p>“His wrists were tied, Father,” said the other voice. “I noticed that -just before we came to the river.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I meant tied to the horse, but who would have thought of such a -thing! However, if the wrists were tied, belike it may have been an -accident and the knave must be dead. I trow it was but a dog’s chance. -Besides, one of those bullets must have hit him. The body must have -been swept down stream.”</p> - -<p>The surmise about the bullet was true enough, as Ian knew to his cost, -and the wound was an added pain. “It is wonderful what the human frame -can stand,” he said to himself. “I cannot think how I am alive at all. -I must win this game somehow and the next move is mine.”</p> - -<p>He slowly lowered himself into the water. The men had stood still, a -little higher up the stream, not twenty yards from where he was. It -was a trying test to his nerves, but he hoped he was concealed by the -brushwood on the flooded bank.</p> - -<p>He waited awhile and heard them discuss how a few of the party would -try and make search in the direction of Scotland and the remainder go -south. Apparently they were waiting for some of the others to join them -and the conversation turned to other subjects.</p> - -<p>Ian was standing on the bottom, but had to work his arms all the time -to prevent himself from being carried down by the current. His teeth -chattered and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> fingers were numb with the pain of the cold. “If I -stay here any longer,” he thought, “the cold will finish me.” So he -struck out and by the aid of the brushwood swam within a foot or two -of where they were standing. It was an anxious moment and although the -stream was slacker near the bank it was slow work. But he passed them -unobserved, although he experienced a tumultuous wave of feeling when -the conversation stopped short for an instant and he feared that they -were listening.</p> - -<p>But at last he judged that it might be safe to creep out, and at first -he crawled and then walked quietly, but finally broke into a run, as -much for the cold as for any other reason; and, in twenty minutes from -the time he started running, he found himself at Andrew’s cottage.</p> - -<p>It was in a secluded spot, quite near the river, and about a third of -a mile from the Hall where Andrew was employed. He crept softly to the -window and peeped in. Andrew was there alone. So he knocked at the door.</p> - -<p>Andrew’s astonishment was immense as he opened the door and still more -so when he saw that his visitor was dripping wet.</p> - -<p>“Can you let me have some dry clothes, Andrew, and help me to get warm, -and provide me with something for the inner man?”</p> - -<p>“That I can, Master Mitchell,” and Andrew bestirred himself, brought -the clothes and made up a roaring fire and prepared a simple but -appetising supper.</p> - -<p>When Ian had finished he stretched out his feet to the cheerful blaze. -It was tempting to stay and rest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> after all his sufferings. The wound -in his shoulder was very painful, although Andrew had bandaged it, and -the sundry cuts and bruises made him feel very stiff. But there was -much to be done and no time to be lost.</p> - -<p>He talked things over with Andrew, very cautiously, as he was not -sure what line he would take. It so happened that the Hall was nearly -empty; the family and their immediate entourage were South during the -winter and the reeve was away on business with two of the other men; so -Andrew’s help in getting the horses was not needed after all. Ian led -him into all kinds of general gossip about the place and discovered how -many horses were kept and where the stables were, without exciting any -suspicion. Andrew offered to come with him to Holwick, but Ian doubted -whether it would not make matters more and not less difficult and -Andrew’s disappearance would itself give a clue.</p> - -<p>Luck favoured him, he found that the man who had charge of the horses, -while the reeve was away, was a drunken fellow, whose cottage was not -far from Andrew’s on the way to the Hall. Owing to the absence of the -reeve he was having a more dissipated time even than usual. It was his -custom to see to the horses the last thing at night, and Ian determined -on an attempt to get the better of him.</p> - -<p>Without explaining his movements to Andrew he said it was time for him -to be going, and he set out into the darkness. There was just enough -starlight to find his way and he soon reached Jock’s cottage. The man -had not returned, so Ian crouched down behind a tree to wait for him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span></p> - -<p>He was trembling with excitement and apprehension and was disturbed in -spirit about the part of the venture in which he was engaged. He was -deliberately setting out to steal the horses and he felt that it was -a sin. He did not try to justify himself, although he had determined -that he would make all possible reparation so that the owner of the -horses would not suffer. He had written a note to his mother which he -had given to Andrew, just saying that if his adventure should miscarry -and Andrew did not hear from him shortly, he was to take it to Stirling -and ask for some relatives of his of the name of Menstrie, as he had no -relatives named Mitchell still alive. In the letter he had said that -she was to clear his honour as far as was possible by replacing the -horses if death should overtake him.</p> - -<p>Yet he did not feel that this in the least altered the crime; but he -argued to himself, that if the crime did not hurt any one that it was -only his own soul that would suffer. For that he was absolutely ready. -He would gladly give his life for Aline, would he not also gladly give -his soul? It was a great shock to his naturally upright nature and -when he had lied to Andrew and told him that he was going to make his -way south on foot, and while his blood boiled with shame within him, -he yet welcomed the sacrifice. “She shall have my honour and my good -name, she shall have my soul indeed as well as my life. Fate may crush -me in eternal torment at the last or annihilate me altogether; but -Aline must escape these fiends; she must live to be happy. Sweet little -child-heart, who never did any wrong to any one and whose short life -has been so sad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> and who yet has only been sunshine in the lives of -others, why should she be cheated out of her due?”</p> - -<p>As he wrestled with himself Jock came stumbling from side to side down -the path, babbling incoherently. Ian braced himself for the struggle -and, as the man opened the door and entered the cottage, Ian stole in -after him. He was utterly unprepared and, as Ian leaped upon him from -behind, he gave one wild shriek and collapsed. Ian tied his hands and -feet with his own cord that he had saved, put the man on the bed and -secured the key of the stable.</p> - -<p>He had comparatively little difficulty in getting out the two best -horses, taking the precaution of tying some sacking over their hoofs so -as to lessen the noise. Fortunately the wind was rising and a storm of -rain was clearly on its way.</p> - -<p>Before leaving he fastened a note at the stall-head:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="mb0">“I require these horses but will replace them when I reach -Scotland. Necessity knows no law.</p> - -<p class="right2 mt0">One in great need.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>He took the horses first in a northerly direction as though making for -Scotland, so that their tracks might throw pursuers off the scent. Then -when he reached the harder road, he followed it only a little way and -turned back south. Finally he struck over the high ground to the west, -hoping to get into another district altogether, where any travellers -that he might meet would not carry any description to the neighbourhood -of Kirkoswald.</p> - -<p>It meant a considerable detour and the inquisitors had a long start as -well; but he felt so certain that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> would rest somewhere for the -night, that he felt very little alarm. Shortly afterwards the rain came -down heavily and he trusted that this would at least help to obliterate -the tracks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> -<img src="images/i-p304.jpg" width="400" height="307" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">THE UPPER COURT SHOWING TERRACE AND TURRET-STAIR TO -ALINE’S ROOM</div> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxiii" id="xxiii"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -<small>A DUEL TO THE DEATH</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>EANWHILE Aline had been having a very unhappy time. She was -practically confined to her room the whole day long, but she did come -down for the mid-day meal. Master Mowbray, strong as his Catholic -sympathies were, not only resented the interference of the priests in -his house, but was concerned at seeing the child look so starved and -ill, and therefore he had insisted on this much.</p> - -<p>It did enable Aline to get some nourishment, although she only had -bread and water for the rest of the time, and it did make a slight -break in the day, for she dared not use the secret stair except when -every one was in bed, for fear of any one coming to her room and -finding that she was not there.</p> - -<p>But the meals were anything but a pleasure. Master Mowbray would look -at her sorrowfully, but he scarcely ever said anything, and Mistress -Mowbray would make cruel biting remarks and watch the child wince under -them.</p> - -<p>Her poor little soul grew very sad and night after night she would cry -herself to sleep; “If only Ian would come—If only Ian would come.”</p> - -<p>She was some time before she actually grasped that the inquisitors -would take away her life; but one day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> when Father Ambrose was at -dinner he had tauntingly asked her whether she had repented of her -folly; and then, with a leer, had rubbed his hands and said:—“You -obstinate minx, they are coming for you right soon and ah, how glad I -shall be to see your long hair shrivel up and your pretty face swell -and burst in the fire.”</p> - -<p>Aline suddenly realised that he was in earnest and for the moment was -petrified with terror. Then she remembered that many children younger -than she had been martyrs in the old Roman days, and for the moment -there was a revulsion of feeling and she smiled to think that she was -worthy to suffer death in the Master’s cause.</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray had not realised it before either, and was shocked -beyond measure. He said nothing to his wife, but decided to set off -at once for York to see the Archbishop, whom he knew personally, and -discover what could be done.</p> - -<p>He was on the point of forbidding Father Ambrose entry to the house; -but he restrained himself, as that would excite suspicion. He was -accustomed to going away suddenly for a few days at a time, so that -his departure that very afternoon surprised no one. He reckoned that -it would take him at least a week and told his wife not to expect him -before that time.</p> - -<p>When Aline reached her room, her feelings swung the other way again. -“Why should she die; what had she done? She was sure that God would not -wish her to die.” She waited till night and crept down to the secret -room. She did not often do this even at night, as although there was a -good store of candles she saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> no prospect whatever of replenishing it -and was afraid of using it up.</p> - -<p>She sat down on the oak settle and tried to face the situation. If the -inquisitors came she must try somehow to escape and the incident of the -blue hose had suggested that she should do so in the garb of a boy. She -rummaged over the clothes that she found and set to work to put them in -order and adapt them for her own use. She chose the strongest things -that she could find and during the next few nights she managed with a -little alteration to fit herself out with a boy’s doublet, cote-hardie, -surcoat and a pair of trunks. She found an admirable mantle of russet -cloth that only required shortening and she herself possessed a pair of -strong sad coloured hose.</p> - -<p>She reckoned that it would not be possible to cut her hair before her -escape; so she prepared three hats, one that was very large into which -her hair could be put in a hurry, a medium one into which it could be -put if very tightly twisted, and a smaller one, that she could wear -with her hair cut short to the ears.</p> - -<p>She also began to lay in a store of provisions, saving all that she -could from her slender allowance, as she judged that it would be safest -to spend a week if possible, in the secret room until the first hue and -cry had subsided, if she should have to make the desperate attempt to -escape alone; but, poor child, her plan was frustrated.</p> - -<p>It was very cold in her little chamber, so she had been wearing some -extra clothing; she decided therefore that the wisest course would -be to dress exactly like a boy and wear what was necessary of her -own clothes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> on the top. So she put on a boy’s shirt and trunks and -stitched points to her hose and tied them to those on the trunks. -Over this she put a cote-hardie and then a belt with a dagger. Above -this again she wore a girl’s longer cote-hardie and above that again -a short surcoat. The medium sized hat was made of silk and the finest -kersey and was therefore easily concealed under her clothes. It had -a full silk crown and a brim turned up all round nearly to the crown -itself, with slits every three inches, giving it a sort of battlemented -appearance with the crown just appearing above the top. Old fashions -still lingered in the North and Ian had had one like it, which he -said resembled one worn by Prince Arthur of Wales. She was helped by -a little drawing which Ian had made for her when they were talking -about the well known portrait. When she had done she felt very proud of -her handiwork and the long mirror was a welcome joy at the end of the -doleful days. She looked out a sword for herself and practised making -passes.</p> - -<p>All was ready four days after Richard Mowbray’s departure and, three -days later, when he had not yet returned, there was a sudden stir and -noise in the outer courtyard while they were having the mid-day meal.</p> - -<p>“That will be Walter Margrove, I’m thinking,” said Mistress Mowbray. -“They always seem to make that man’s arrival an excuse for neglecting -their work, idle hussies and varlets all of them!” She rose as she -spoke and went out into the screens. Aline followed her.</p> - -<p>A tall priest had already crossed the threshold. “May I speak with -Master Mowbray?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Master Mowbray is away, you must ask what you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> want of me. Come this -way,” she said, and stepped out of the door at the other end of the -screens, so as to be away from the servants and Aline.</p> - -<p>“We have come,” said Father Austin, for it was he, “with a warrant for -the arrest of a heretic, a certain Aline Gillespie; see, here are the -seals thereon of Queen Mary and Bishop Bonner himself. It is well that -one be careful in these matters,” he said smiling grimly. “Some would -be content with lesser signatures and seals, but then their work might -be overset.”</p> - -<p>They had been strolling toward the further end of the quadrangle and -were nearing the entrance to the stair that led to Aline’s room. It had -only taken an instant for it to flash through Aline’s mind that the -hour had come and it was now or never. She followed quietly behind them -and hoped to be able to slip up the stair before they could catch her, -and was ready to make a dash as they turned.</p> - -<p>They turned just before reaching the door and Aline made a rush.</p> - -<p>“Not so fast, my child,” said the priest, stretching out a long -interposing arm. “Whither away? I may want speech of thee shortly.” -He turned with a look of sanctimonious triumph to Mistress Mowbray. -“Mother Church will clean your house of its vermin for you, madam,” he -said.</p> - -<p>Aline gave one little gasp of mortal terror and then stood dumb for -a second like a small bird caught by a beast of prey. She gave one -appealing look toward Mistress Mowbray and then swung round facing the -dining hall and paused a moment, with Father Austin’s hand still on her -shoulder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span></p> - -<p>“I prefer to clear my own house,” Mistress Mowbray said icily. She -disliked the man, she disliked his interference. He could not have said -anything more foolish. Aline’s interference had been outrageous, but it -was nothing to this; at least the child was one of themselves. Mistress -Mowbray’s wrath raged at the insolence of this outsider. She looked -again at Aline, delicate, fragile, ethereal, and the thought of the -appealing look of the beautiful child at last thawed her hard heart. -“What if ever Audry should be in a like plight?” she mused.</p> - -<p>All this was in a flash, as she turned to Aline and looking her full -in the face, said,—“Audry, dear, run and tell Silas that there’s a -ratcatcher or something, who thinks that we have vermin in the house -and would like a job. You can also find Aline and tell her that he -seems to like catching little girls.”</p> - -<p>Father Austin dropped his arm at the name of Audry; and Aline, though -puzzled, ran off swiftly. As Mistress Mowbray finished her sentence, he -bit his lip; he saw that he had made a mistake.</p> - -<p>“Who is Audry, madam?”</p> - -<p>“Audry is my daughter,” answered Mistress Mowbray with her chin very -much in the air.</p> - -<p>“I thought that child there was Aline Gillespie,” said the priest.</p> - -<p>“So it was,” said the lady, calmly.</p> - -<p>“But you called her Audry, madam,” he replied, “and told her to speak -to Aline.”</p> - -<p>“Did I?” she said with well feigned surprise. “You confused me so with -your peculiar language.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Aline ran back to the screens, intending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> to go through and -cross the lower court and slip out over the drawbridge. She might reach -the stream and make her way up to the cave before any one clearly -grasped what was happening.</p> - -<p>But when she came to the further door she was met by a large crowd that -had followed the inquisitors and it was useless to try and make headway -against it; besides she saw Father Martin’s head appearing above the -rest away in the background.</p> - -<p>She turned back again with the head of the crowd and half mechanically -picked up a staff that was standing in the corner by the door, as she -passed into the court. She pushed her way past two men who were armed -with swords and were just stepping through the doorway. She might still -be able to get into the library and, desperate as the chance was, she -hoped to throw them off the scent by breaking a window before going -down through the kist to the secret room.</p> - -<p>Father Austin was still standing near the bottom of the stair to her -chamber. That way was closed; so she ran toward the small flight of -steps leading to the little terrace in front of the library.</p> - -<p>“Seize her, Hubert,” shouted the priest.</p> - -<p>The big burly man, addressed, rushed after her. Aline swung round -suddenly and hit him unexpectedly with her staff on the side of his -head and darted on.</p> - -<p>The man gave a great yell and the crowd roared with laughter, which -doubled his rage and, drawing his sword, he dashed again in pursuit. -Aline was fleet and reached the library door before he was half way -across the quadrangle.</p> - -<p>She feverishly grasped the handle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p> - -<p>Alas, it was locked.</p> - -<p>As she turned back, Hubert nearly reached the bottom of the steps. Four -more paces and his sword would be through her.</p> - -<p>The heavy man took a great stride half-way up the stair. The hunted -child stood at bay.</p> - -<p>How frail and slight she seemed; only a delicate flower ineffectively -beautiful. The crowd stood motionless and held their breath, while some -closed their eyes.</p> - -<p>Hubert laughed at the absurd sight of the child barring his way. She -could no longer hit him unawares; he was armed and ready, he expected -nothing; when Aline, quick as lightning, by a dexterous turn of her -staff, twisted the sword out of his hand, and lunging forward, caught -him under the chin with her full force so that the big man overbalanced -and fell backward down the steps, stunned.</p> - -<p>Aline stooped and picked up the sword. Hubert’s fellow, however, was -close behind.</p> - -<p>“Kill her!” shouted Father Martin.</p> - -<p>“Slay the witch, Gilbert,” echoed Father Austin.</p> - -<p>As she picked up Hubert’s sword she had to draw back in rising and -Gilbert was already up the steps. He was a more active man than the -other, but he had taken in the situation and was no fool; so, child as -she was, he advanced more cautiously.</p> - -<p>Poor little Aline had to think and fight at the same time. What was she -to do? Even if she overcame this man, there were others; obviously she -could not fight them all. But she thought of a faintly possible chance -and, before Gilbert closed with her, gave a glance across the moat. -Could she cross it? As she glanced she saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> a sight for which she had -been longing all these weary weeks,—it was a single horseman with two -horses, evidently making his way toward the gully. He was turning to -look back at the Hall. She saw no more, and straightway began a very -pretty bit of sword play.</p> - -<p>Gilbert proceeded warily and foyne, parry and counterparry followed -with monotonous precision. Aline kept very cool and at first attempted -little; but after a short time she tried a feint or so in order to test -him. She soon found that he was no mean swordsman; but she had learned -much from Ian, which he had brought from Italy and France; so Gilbert -in his turn discovered that she was not an opponent to be despised.</p> - -<p>He reckoned however that his greater strength must tell in the end and -took things somewhat easily. For a time therefore nothing happened, -but a little later, after a riposte on Aline’s part, Gilbert made a -counter-riposte and just touched her on the arm. He began to feel his -superiority and pressed in harder, while she gradually drew back a -little and a little along the terrace.</p> - -<p>Gilbert thought that he was slowly mastering her; but Aline was playing -for her own ends as her one slender hope was to let him wear himself -out.</p> - -<p>The crowd by this time were spell-bound and even the two priests were -overcome by the fascination of the scene,—the beautiful agile child -and the dexterous but far slower swordsman. The silence was intense, -broken only by the clash of the swords.</p> - -<p>Gradually they neared the end of the terrace. It was an awful moment -for Aline. The man was obviously getting tired, but she shrank from -trying to inflict a severe wound and he was far too skilful for her to -disarm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> him. There was nothing for it, however; and, when almost at the -little low wall at the terrace end, the instinctive struggle for life -began to tell and the fighting on both sides became more serious.</p> - -<p>Aline received a slight scratch on her left shoulder and this settled -the matter and nerved her to a supreme effort.</p> - -<p>As he lunged again she parried, made a riposte with a reprise following -like a lightning flash and swift as thought her sword was through his -heart and he fell dead on the pavement.</p> - -<p>The crowd gasped. Aline stayed not an instant, but leaped upon the low -terrace wall. Standing still for a moment she tore her outer garments -from her and stood there like a lovely boy, save for the great flood -of hair that had come entirely loose and that was caught on the windy -battlement and blown like a cloud high behind her.</p> - -<p>Then she paused and turning to the quadrangle thronged with people she -said: “How dare you play the cowards’ part, setting two armed men to -attack one small girl? God will punish you, Father Martin, and you, -too,” she said, pointing to Father Austin, “and the blood of the slain -man will cling to you and remorse shall tear your hearts. I am only a -child and it is little that I know, but I do know that there is no love -for a hard heart from God or from men.</p> - -<p>“And you, Elspeth, Janet and those I love; it is hard to say good-bye, -but I must go.”</p> - -<p>“Shoot her, shoot her!” shrieked the priests, “she blasphemes, she -takes the name of God in vain.” But the angry crowd surged round the -guard and would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> let them move. One, however, broke loose and -raised his pistol; but as he did so, Aline, to the utter astonishment -of all, still holding the sword, dived into the moat.</p> - -<p>“Our Lady shield thee, St. Aline,” cried a voice from the crowd; and as -the wall was too high to see over, except from the terrace itself, they -swept up in a mass, the priests, the people, the guards and all.</p> - -<p>A few strokes took her over the water; Ian stooped and seized her under -the arms, drew her out of the water, lifted her on to the one horse, -vaulted himself on to the other and they fled like the wind.</p> - -<p>Shot after shot then rang out and the bullets whistled only too -alarmingly near them, but they were soon out of reach.</p> - -<p>“Mount and pursue,” shouted Father Austin, as he stumbled over the body -of the dead man, “and take this clumsy loon and bury him.”</p> - -<p>“The horses are tired, we need fresh steeds for that,” said one of the -guard.</p> - -<p>“Gramercy, take them from the Hall,” he roared.</p> - -<p>But no one would find the keys of the stable and Mistress Mowbray, -coming up a moment later, said in acid tones, “Take your own horses, -Sir Priest, warrant or no warrant you cannot steal, and if you touch my -horses I will have you hanged as a common horse-thief.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him triumphantly, the exercise of power delighted her and -she even felt a glow of reflected glory from Aline’s achievement. “We -know how to manage these interlopers,” she thought; “I am mistress of -this situation. Aline, you have done very well.”</p> - -<p>Father Austin looked cowed, and the sullen people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> stood in the way -and blocked the road. One managed to secure a stirrup, another broke a -girth, while a third removed a halter altogether.</p> - -<p>“You shall suffer for this,” said the priests, when they at length -reached the horses; but the attitude of the crowd was so menacing that -they became afraid for their very lives and finally had to fall back -upon entreaty before they were allowed to go away at all.</p> - -<p>The result was that the fugitives had two full hours start on good -horses, before Father Austin could get his little troop under way.</p> - -<p>“Had God sent a deliverer from the skies?” mused Mistress Mowbray, as -she sat and pondered the strange events of the day.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxiv" id="xxiv"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -<small>A RIDE IN VAIN</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>S Aline and Ian rode over the rough ground they kept turning back; but -nothing was to be seen. They wondered what had delayed the pursuit, but -felt sure it would come.</p> - -<p>The snow had more or less melted and the day was clear, so that they -could see far behind them. When, therefore, they reached a place where -they could clearly see two miles and no one following, they slackened -pace, so as to give their horses every chance.</p> - -<p>Ian’s plan was to swim or ford the swollen river at the Weal, the long -pool-like stretch, of the Tees,—and then take the track to Garrigill. -His present anxiety was to keep Aline warm. He had brought away two -big heavy riding cloaks from Andrew, saying that he needed to be warm -sleeping on the hills. One of these he had put round Aline, but she -was at first very cold. The exercise, however, warmed her a little and -they did not dare to stop until they had put the river between them and -their pursuers. It was fortunate for them that there was no wind and -that the day, although cold, was bright and sunny. The hills looked -hard and colourless, but the sunshine seemed to conquer the austerity.</p> - -<p>They reached the river and negotiated it safely, Ian taking off his -boots and lower garments to keep them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> dry. When they reached the other -side Aline undressed and put on all of Ian’s clothes that he could take -off and they wrung out hers and hung them where they would best dry -with the motion through the air.</p> - -<p>Ian had obtained a sword and two pistols from Andrew, while Aline had -the sword with which she swam the moat.</p> - -<p>They passed through Garrigill without mishap. Ian was particularly -nervous of their being caught just as they reached a village, lest a -hue and cry should be raised that would stop them. He looked anxiously -back when they neared Alston, but no one was in view. It seemed best to -make no attempt to keep out of sight by detours, but simply to press on.</p> - -<p>Their foes, he guessed, would probably get fresh horses in Alston. -Oh, if only they had money to do the same! It was impossible to reach -Scotland that night, so the best plan seemed to Ian to be to rest their -horses at the loneliest part of the road beyond Alston, where they -could be concealed themselves and at the same time get a distant view -of the road. After a rest they might make a good run for it, as the day -was already getting on, particularly if their pursuers cantered their -horses from Alston and came up with them at all blown. Then in the dark -the best thing would probably be to abandon the horses and escape on -foot.</p> - -<p>They did as he had planned, and after they had rested an hour and -a half, during which time the horses had some oats, Ian saw their -adversaries about a mile behind. There were six of them and they had -been badly delayed getting fresh horses in Alston. They were galloping -rather wildly down the hill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span></p> - -<p>Ian held his hand for Aline to mount and then vaulted into his seat -and they set off at a trot. The others saw them and put spurs to their -horses, yelling as they rode.</p> - -<p>“Keep cool, not too fast,” said Ian, “wait till they come much nearer.”</p> - -<p>Slowly their pursuers gained upon them, but Aline and Ian reserved -their strength.</p> - -<p>A mile they rode and the interval was lessened by a quarter; their -hearts were too full to speak; another mile and the distance was again -less by a quarter. Aline looked back: “Oh, Ian! We shall never get -away, and they will catch you, too. I wish you had not come to rescue -me. Do you think ‘Moll o’ the graves’ really does know anything about -what is going to happen?”</p> - -<p>“No, little heart, but do not be afraid, we have been helped so far. I -think we shall get away.”</p> - -<p>Another mile’s ride and they were only separated from their pursuers by -a quarter mile.</p> - -<p>Ian waited,—three hundred yards,—two hundred,—one hundred,—fifty. -“Now,” he said, “let them go,” and both riders lashed their horses and -the distance began to lengthen out again till it reached three or four -hundred yards. Three of their pursuers fell behind altogether, the -mounts they had obtained in Alston were not equal to the strain. One -was Father Martin, and it would have made Aline’s ears tingle if she -had heard the curses heaped upon her and Ian.</p> - -<p>The other three kept together for a time and then they also began to -spread out a little. At length there were forty paces between the first -and second, and a couple of hundred yards to the third.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span></p> - -<p>It soon became clear, however, that, though they need not fear the -third horse, both the other two would ultimately be a match for -them, nor would it get dark soon enough for them to escape. Ian kept -absolutely cool, but it was a terrible moment. If he were killed, even -if Aline did escape, who in the wide world would look after her?</p> - -<p>When the nearest horse was only about sixty yards behind he said to -Aline, “Ride on, I think I can deal with these fellows, but I wish -we had more pistols,—two shots will not see us far. Get to Carlisle -and find Matthew Musgrave. I doubt not he will smuggle you away over -the border; and, if I come not, when Walter Margrove arrives he will -somehow provide for you.”</p> - -<p>“But I won’t leave you,” said Aline. She looked at him so beseechingly, -that he knew it was useless to say anything.</p> - -<p>“Then you must do as I tell you. I am going to stop; you go on thirty -or forty paces beyond and then stop also. Be ready to dismount if -necessary. You are a good swordswoman, but you know nothing about -shooting.”</p> - -<p>Ian then reined in, turned and pointed his pistol at the leading horse. -The man was taken aback by the sudden move, but fired wildly as he -rode and the bullet whizzed past Ian’s head. It was only a matter of -seconds, but Ian waited to make quite sure and then fired at the horse, -which fell and brought its rider with a horrible crash to the ground.</p> - -<p>The second horse was treated in like manner; but its rider saw what was -coming just in time to slacken his pace and leap to the ground as the -horse fell. He then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> fired twice, missing the first time, but grazing -Ian’s left side with the second shot.</p> - -<p>He was a big powerful man and before Ian had time to step back and -mount, he was in upon him with his sword. Ian had time to draw, but -found that the man was no fool with his weapon. Time was precious, -too, for the third horseman, who had drawn rein for a moment, was now -advancing and would be upon them immediately.</p> - -<p>Aline, who had seen this, dismounted and shouted: “Leave him to me and -load your pistols”; but before she could reach them, Ian’s sword was -through the man’s neck.</p> - -<p>Luckily the horses stood; but he had only time to load one of the -pistols, while Aline mounted again, before the third man arrived. He -slowed up as he approached and attempted to fire from his horse, but -the pistol only flashed in the pan and missed fire. Again Ian brought -the horse to the ground, and as the man, who was not seriously hurt, -picked himself up, Ian said; “Well, good-bye, my friend, I am sorry -that urgent business prevents our waiting,” and springing to his saddle -he galloped off.</p> - -<p>Before the man could fire they were some distance away and the bullet -went hopelessly wide.</p> - -<p>“That’s twice I’ve been shot in three days, little one,” said Ian. -“It’s a mercy these fellows cannot shoot better.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you never told me about the other,” said Aline, “and you must wait -now and let me attend to this; the blood is all over your arm and down -nearly to your knee.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></p> - -<p>“Indeed, I must not, sweet child, we shall soon have the rest of the -gang after us. In fact, I do not know what to do, the horses are -completely done and yet it is not safe to put up anywhere. Whatever -happens we must not be caught in a town. I believe it would have been -safer to have waited and killed them all.”</p> - -<p>Aline shuddered. “Oh, how awful.”</p> - -<p>Ian tore a piece off his shirt sleeve and stopped the bleeding of his -wound as well as he could, and they rode on in silence for a time, -till they came to the place where the road divided for Haltwhistle and -Brampton. The trees grew thickly by the stream and it was getting dark. -“Let us hide here,” Ian said. “They are unlikely to see us and we can -then go whichever way they do not. They cannot be here for some time, -so the horses can again get a feed and a rest.”</p> - -<p>They piled up some dead leaves where two fallen trunks made a sort of -shelter, did what they could for Ian’s wound and huddled together and -waited.</p> - -<p>At last, after about two hours, they dimly saw three horses. There was -only one rider, but the fugitives guessed that the others carried the -dead and the injured man. Four men walked beside them.</p> - -<p>“I can hardly move another step,” they heard one of them say.</p> - -<p>“I do not suppose you are as tired as I am,” said a second voice, -“besides I bruised myself pretty badly when that devil brought my horse -down. I shall be too stiff to move to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said a third voice, which both recognised as that of Father -Martin,—“This kind of game is not in my line anyway. Ride, ride, it is -nothing but ride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> I shall be too sore to sit down for a week; when on -earth are you going to bring me to a place for a night’s rest? S’death. -I almost feel as though I did not care what happened to the villains, I -am so worn out. That’s three of my men dead; for I reckon Philip there -will never speak again. Fancy that little she-cat killing Gilbert.”</p> - -<p>“That’s you, Pussie,” softly whispered Ian in her ear.</p> - -<p>“Well, this is the way to Haltwhistle; that’s six miles nearer than -Brampton,” said one of the other voices, “and they are more likely to -have gone there to put us off the track. Anyway, we can get men over to -Brampton soon after daylight.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks for the information,” again whispered Ian.</p> - -<p>Gradually the voices died away in the still evening air, and finally -the sound of the horses’ hoofs also.</p> - -<p>“Thou art a naughty boy to whisper like that,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Marry, it was safe enough for such a noise as they were making.”</p> - -<p>They waited a little longer and then Aline put on her own clothes which -were now quite dry. She was also going to cut off her hair, but Ian -dissuaded her; so she braided it very tightly and concealed it with the -bonnet.</p> - -<p>They walked by their horses for an hour and then mounted and reached -Brampton at ten o’clock at night. They approached the small hostelry -and dismounted. “Can you give my page and myself supper and a night’s -lodging?” Ian enquired. “The horses will want a good rub down, too; -they are tired.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span></p> - -<p>“Whence have you come and whither bound?” said mine host.</p> - -<p>“We’ve come from Alston to-day and we’re bound for Scotland to-morrow. -But show us a seat and a fire, this is no time for talk.”</p> - -<p>“Come in, then; but you should not be travelling to Scotland now; -there’s trouble on the border again and you may fall in with more than -you desired; but it’s none of my business.”</p> - -<p>At first the place looked empty; but there was a boy curled up on a -settle and fast asleep.</p> - -<p>Ian looked at him and to his surprise it was Wilfred. He hesitated -a moment before waking the lad; it seemed unkind, he looked so -comfortable; but it might assist toward Aline’s safety. So he lightly -touched him on the shoulder. Wilfred looked up and rubbed his eyes. -When he saw who it was a look of pleased surprise spread over his face.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, Will?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“You said you wanted me to keep a look out for you near Brampton, -Master Menstrie; so Matthew and I, finding there was work to be done at -Naworth Castle, have come over here. Matthew is lodging at a house near -the castle, but as Master Forster, here, is a friend of Matthew’s, I am -staying with him. I was to go and help Matthew as soon as we had news -of you; but I have spent all my time on the road for some days. He will -be so glad to hear you have got back again. We heard in Carlisle that -you had been drowned, but I knew you were a great swimmer and felt it -could not be true and that you would go on to Holwick as you said. Did -you get there?” asked the boy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, I got there all right.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you do about the little lady?”</p> - -<p>“The little lady is safe so far,” said Ian, “and Angus, one of -the pages from the Hall, is coming with me to see if we can make -arrangements for her in Scotland.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear she is safe.”</p> - -<p>“The boy, Angus, and I are leaving early to-morrow for Longtown. If -those rascals follow us up and you get a chance to delay them, do so. A -loose shoe proved very useful before.”</p> - -<p>William Forster, the innkeeper, brought supper, and Wilfred, who was -now thoroughly awake, boylike, was not averse to sharing their meal.</p> - -<p>“There’s a room prepared for you upstairs,” said Forster. “I suppose -your page will be all right on the other settle?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that will do,” answered Ian. “You do not mind, little one,” he -whispered softly after the man had gone. “I think it is best.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” she answered.</p> - -<p>After the meal they sat by the fire for a few minutes, and Ian looked -across at the two boys, as they seemed. Wilfred was immensely better in -health and had entirely lost the half starved look. “He’s certainly a -beautiful lad,” Ian mused. “They make as fine a pair of boys as Aline -and Audry were girls. I must paint those two, just like that, if ever -we get safely through. I wish I could sketch them now.”</p> - -<p>When Ian had retired, Wilfred, who was fascinated by his companion, -tried to draw her into conversation; but she was very reticent and -pleaded that she wanted to go to sleep, which was indeed true.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span></p> - -<p>“You have a fine master now,” said Wilfred, “even though he is only a -carpenter. He doesn’t look like a man to have a page in those rough -home-spuns of his. But you are lucky, going round and serving him. I -wish I had the chance. I would die for that man.”</p> - -<p>“So would I,” said Aline quietly.</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll love you, too,” said the boy; “but you are right, we must go -to sleep.”</p> - -<p>In the morning Wilfred woke early, while it was still quite dark and -roused Angus, as Ian named Aline. “Go you and wake your master,” he -said.</p> - -<p>Aline found Ian and after a meal they took lanthorns out to the stable -and prepared to start.</p> - -<p>Wilfred helped them and chattered away to Aline, trying in every way to -lighten her share of the labours.</p> - -<p>While Ian was settling the score Wilfred took Aline aside: “Remember, -Angus,” he said, “that we are both willing to die for him; and if ever -I am wanted I am ready. He risked his life for me and I can never repay -him.”</p> - -<p>“Risked his life for you! When? I never heard of it.”</p> - -<p>Wilfred looked at her. “Do you mean to say he never told you?”</p> - -<p>“No, he is not the kind that would. Oh, I should like to stay and hear -all about it! But I must not wait, Master Menstrie will be wanting me.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could tell you everything; but I am so glad that you love -him. I am sure that you and I would be great friends,—very great -friends; oh, if only I could go with you! But we must say good-bye,” -and then Wilfred hesitated, “I am sure I do not know how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span> it is,” he -said shyly, “I sometimes used to kiss my best friend, Hugh, when there -was no one else near; but boys don’t kiss much. However, we two shall -never meet again and somehow I want to kiss you.”</p> - -<p>He approached her a little awkwardly, there were tears in his eyes, and -Aline let him kiss her.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye again, Angus, I shall not forget you,” he said.</p> - -<p>At that moment Ian returned and they mounted their horses and bade -farewell and rode off.</p> - -<p>The boy stood in the grey dawn, gazing regretfully after them down -the road. Then a thought struck him. He felt puzzled. “Why, I do not -believe that was a boy at all,—No, I am sure it was not. It must have -been the little lady herself. What a fool I was not to think of it -before. But fancy her taking a kiss from the likes of me!”</p> - -<p>They had hardly disappeared from sight, when he heard the clatter of -hoofs behind him and a body of armed men rode down the street.</p> - -<p>“Good morrow, my lad,” said their leader, “you are up betimes.”</p> - -<p>Wilfred had decided that it would be best to appear very communicative -and then perhaps they would not trouble to ask any one else.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “there have been some silly loons here, who did not -know what a good thing bed is on a cold winter morning, routing me up -to look after their horses,” and Wilfred half turned on his heel as -though he would go back to the house.</p> - -<p>“Not so fast, my lad,” said the leader, “who were they, and what were -they like?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, there were two of them, a man in homespun and his page, though why -he should have a page perplexed me not a little. Do you know who he -was, good sirs, I should like to know the meaning of it?”</p> - -<p>“That is not your concern, lad; come, can you tell me any more? Was he -a big man?”</p> - -<p>“No, he was about middle size; but very well built, with deep set grey -eyes and a fine face.”</p> - -<p>“Humph,” grunted the horseman, “deep set grey eyes, yes; to the devil -with the fine face! And what about the other?” he added.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he was a pretty slip of a boy.”</p> - -<p>“Were they armed?”</p> - -<p>“They both had swords and the man had pistols.”</p> - -<p>“That’s they, right enough; but one more question—Where did they come -from and where are they going?”</p> - -<p>“They came from Alston and arrived very tired last night.”</p> - -<p>“That settles it, and which way did you say they had gone now?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they set off along the Carlisle road, long before it was light. -You don’t want to find them, do you? You’ll never do it if you stand -talking here; marry, you’ve got your work cut out for you if you want -to catch them.”</p> - -<p>“Come along, men,” said their leader.</p> - -<p>“They must be pretty well in Carlisle by now,” shouted Wilfred, as they -started off. “You will hardly do it.”</p> - -<p>“To hell fire with them; but we’ll get them yet”; and the horses -thundered down the road.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxv" id="xxv"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> -<small>AMAZING DISCOVERIES</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">W</span>ILFRED stood and rubbed his hands. “I would give a week’s pay to see -them in Carlisle,” he chuckled.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Ian and Aline gently made their way along the road to -Longtown without mishap. They saw a small body of troopers once; but -the troopers took no notice of them. In the desultory border warfare -people went about their business practically unconcerned. Life had to -go on and, if they waited till there was no fighting, to all intents -and purposes they might, in those districts, wait for ever.</p> - -<p>“What are we going to do when we reach Scotland?” Aline asked, when at -the last it appeared that immediate danger was passing. “Old Moll does -not seem to have been right this time,” she added.</p> - -<p>“We cannot say yet, birdeen, there are many perils and difficulties -ahead, perhaps greater than we have yet passed. I wish I could shake -off the feeling of that woman. It is not that I believe any of her -prophecies. Of course they are all nonsense, but she is the very -incarnation of the spirit of evil, a continual oppressive reminder -of its presence in the world. There is no doubt, too, that she has a -snakelike inexplicable influence over people and puts evil suggestion -into their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span> minds, just as some other people have exactly the opposite -power. To talk with Moll rouses one’s worst nature; to talk with some -rouses one’s best.” He looked at Aline and thought how wonderful -her power was. What was this power, mysteriously possessed by some -natures, that almost by their very presence they could change men’s -lives;—Aline and Moll might themselves be the warring spirits of good -and evil.</p> - -<p>“My only object for the moment,” he said aloud, “was to rescue you -from your desperate danger. I thought that then we might have time to -think out something. There are difficulties indeed; the country is in a -very unsettled condition, partly the troubles with England, partly the -religious troubles and the difficulty with the regent, Mary of Guise, -and France. But our first trouble is,—that I have no money and people -with no money always find it hard to live,” and he smiled a rueful -smile.</p> - -<p>“Neither have I,” said Aline, “at least not to live on. I have two gold -pieces with me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you are richer than I am,” he said playfully. “It will help us -somewhat, while I find something to set us going. I left a note, too, -with Wilfred for Walter Margrove, in case he should come within the -next few days, asking him to send Wilfred to Canonbie with a little -money at once for our present needs.”</p> - -<p>“Wilfred,” said Aline, “is that Will Ackroyd?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Ian, “I have a story to tell you about how I met him, but -we must leave it for the present. I am very perplexed about this matter -of making a livelihood.” He paused a moment and then continued;—</p> - -<p>“I might find work as a carpenter, or perhaps there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span> will be more call -for a smith in these turbulent times. But I cannot think what to do -with you. Even if I found some people with whom you could live and -worked to keep you, there would be all kinds of questions as to where -you came from and all about you?”</p> - -<p>“Then why not let me work with you as carpenter’s boy, like Will does -for Matthew Musgrave?”</p> - -<p>“What! and spoil your beautiful hands. By the way, though,” he added, -“what have you been doing to get them in such a shocking condition? I -have noticed it all along but my mind has been so full of schemes and -plans for our escape, that I have not been able to talk about it.”</p> - -<p>Aline told him the story and continued;—“Anyway, carpentry could not -be as bad as that.”</p> - -<p>Ian was shocked and looked at her thankfully. “I trust we have broken -the evil spell,” he said. “But, princess, you are a lady and such very -hard work is beyond that to which you have been used.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I hope I am a lady and just because I am a lady it does not -matter what I am used to do. I can turn my hand to anything; I do not -mind. It is only common people who are afraid of demeaning themselves. -I have often noticed”—and then she suddenly stopped:—was not Ian -himself one of these “common people,” and was it not unmannerly anyway -for a real lady to talk like that?</p> - -<p>“Noticed what?” asked Ian.</p> - -<p>“Oh, just noticed that it is so,” and by way of changing the subject -she went on,—“but there is one thing I should mind;—I should mind -having to cut my hair short.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span></p> - -<p>Ian sighed: “Yes, you must not do that, little one, we must think of -some other plan.”</p> - -<p>“But I have quite made up my mind and I am going to cut it,” she said -in her most queenly manner. She said it so firmly and cheerfully that -even Ian did not realise the struggle that was going on in the little -heart.</p> - -<p>“Well, princess, if it must be so, it must; but you need not cut it -above the shoulders. Many pages wear it down to the shoulders.”</p> - -<p>“Pages, yes, but not carpenters’ boys.” At the same time Ian’s words -gave her a gleam of comfort. That was not quite so terrible. It would -have a good start as soon as she could let it grow again. “Do you think -a carpenter’s boy could wear it down to his shoulders?” she asked -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said Ian; “it might be a little peculiar, but if we -could afford to dress you a little more like a page though you were a -carpenter’s boy, I doubt even if any one would notice.”</p> - -<p>They had reached Longtown by this time, but Ian decided not to stop if -they could get safely over the border. They rode on, therefore, until -they met a small patrol near Canonbie but were allowed after a few -explanations to pass.</p> - -<p>At the little inn they made enquiry as to the news of the day. This -was surprising, but to Ian by no means altogether unexpected. The -Protestant feeling had been growing and some of the Protestant leaders -had met at the house of James Sym in Edinburgh and signed the first -covenant, called the “Godlie Band.” They were the Earl of Ergyl; -Glencarn,—the good Earl;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span> Mortoun; Archibald, Lord of Lorne and John -Erskyne of Doun.<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26" href="#Footnote_26_26" class="footnote">[26]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26" href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="anchor">26</span></a> The spelling of the names is taken from a surviving copy -of the covenant.</p></div> - -<p>But what was of immediate interest and importance to Ian was that the -Earl of Hawick<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27" href="#Footnote_27_27" class="footnote">[27]</a> was at that moment raising forces in the border -shires, nominally to fight on the border, but in reality to be ready to -support the Protestant cause against Mary of Guise.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27" href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="anchor">27</span></a> This is a fictitious title and likewise the border -incident, although there were several such affrays in this year.</p></div> - -<p>His headquarters were but a few miles away and Ian wondered whether it -was not his duty to throw in his lot with them. His own feelings on the -whole were friendly to England and he hated the policy that the regent -was pursuing of making Scotland an appendage of France, but if English -marauders invaded the border he was quite ready as a true Scot to fight -against them, although it was the religious cause that he had more -deeply at heart.</p> - -<p>“Methinks I ought to join them,” he said. “I have seen a good deal of -fighting in my day and I might be useful to the cause.”</p> - -<p>“I will go with you,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, child, girls do not fight.”</p> - -<p>“Joan of Arc fought and why should not I?” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Joan of Arc was older than you and could stand a strain that would be -quite beyond you, little one, hardy as you are.”</p> - -<p>“But I should go as your page or attendant. Would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span> you fight as -a trooper or on foot, because that, of course, would make some -difference?”</p> - -<p>“That would remain to be seen, but in any case it would be absurd for -you to be there. But it has given me a new idea, sweet child. They -would be glad of my services; and, as they are protestants, they would -be only too pleased to look after you in return.”</p> - -<p>“But I want to come with you.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her sadly; “It is out of the question,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but please let me.”</p> - -<p>“No, birdeen, you might be killed.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that would not matter. I have no friends or relatives in -the world to care for me; it might be the simplest solution of our -difficulties, if I died trying to help a good cause.”</p> - -<p>“You must not talk like that, Aline; I cannot bear to think of it.”</p> - -<p>“But I have made up my mind. I am coming. You might be wounded and I -might be just the one to help you and prevent your dying.” She drew -herself up as she spoke and Ian knew that further argument was useless.</p> - -<p>“In that case we can wait and rest here, in any wise for to-day, the -which we both need. I can then go and see the Earl to-morrow and -probably we can continue to rest for some days while he is recruiting -his forces.”</p> - -<p>They retired early. Aline had a little room with a glorious outlook. -Oh, how beautiful everything was and how good God had been to her. When -she was half undressed she sat down and gazed out of the window.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span> So -this was dear Scotland again, the land of her birth. For the moment -the recollection of “Moll o’ the graves” clouded the prospect, but it -passed away. The sombre hills looked kindly in the gloaming. She felt -hardly able to contain herself for joy.</p> - -<p>It was true that she was about to face new dangers; but that did not -trouble her in the least. She would be definitely doing her duty, as -she conceived it, fighting for a good cause along with many others; she -would no longer be a hunted fugitive merely trying to preserve her own -life.</p> - -<p>She knelt down and prayed and felt happier than she had done since her -father died, happier even than during the best days in the secret room.</p> - -<p>So happy was she that she proceeded to cut off her wonderful hair, -just below the level of the shoulders, without the slightest twinge of -regret. “I wish I had Audry’s long mirror here,” was the only thought -that troubled her.</p> - -<p>Even this was unexpectedly gratified, for in the morning she was down -first and discovered a long mirror in a black oak frame, one of the -treasures of the hostel.</p> - -<p>As she was looking at herself Ian appeared. The sight cost him a pang. -“Oh, child,” he exclaimed, “what have you done?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve only made myself into a real boy,” she answered.</p> - -<p>Ian bit his lips; he would not have thought that he could have minded -so much.</p> - -<p>As they were standing there the door suddenly opened and a boy came in.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Wilfred! is that you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, master, I have brought a letter from Walter Margrove.”</p> - -<p>Ian took the letter and went over to the window seat on the far side of -the room to read it.</p> - -<p>“Wilfred,” thought Aline; “Wilfred”; it had a familiar sound -before, when Ian used the name on the road:—and he came from -Kirkoswald,—there was too a tale to be told as Ian had said,—and Ian -himself had been using an assumed name. Could it by any chance be the -boy of little Joan’s sad story?</p> - -<p>He held out his hand bashfully, and bent his head. As Aline took it he -said;—“I humbly crave your pardon, but I believe now I know who you -are.”</p> - -<p>Aline blushed and then she said quietly, “You have probably guessed -rightly. Whom do you think I am?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her for a moment. How could there possibly be any doubt; -there could not be two such beautiful people in the world; and he -had heard Walter and Andrew, besides Ian, allude to her unparalleled -loveliness. “You are Mistress Gillespie,” he said, and bowed awkwardly.</p> - -<p>Aline smiled sadly. “Yes,” she said, “I am and I believe I have just -discovered who you are. Your name is not really Ackroyd, is it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mistress, it is,” he answered.</p> - -<p>Aline looked baffled, but he continued,—“However, I have never been -known as Ackroyd, as I lived with an Aunt whose name was Johnstone.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” she replied softly. “Come sit over here, for I have a -sorrowful tale for you.”</p> - -<p>She took his hand and the boy followed, lost in wonder and admiration.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span></p> - -<p>“I used to know poor little Joan,” she said very gently.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mistress, I had guessed as much; we heard in Kirkoswald what had -happened,” and the boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that you did -everything for her that could be done and that she loved you.”</p> - -<p>Aline felt relieved, as she was spared the worst part of her task. “She -often used to speak of you, Wilfred, and before she went away, she gave -me her greatest treasures which you had given her long before; and I -was to try and return them to you. But, alas, I had to flee from armed -men at a moment’s notice in peril of my life and I have them not. But -they are safe and one day I will fulfil my charge.”</p> - -<p>She held out her hand. “Oh, I am so sorry for you,” she said, “but my -words are too feeble to say what I feel.”</p> - -<p>The tears were now running freely down the boy’s face, he took her hand -in both his and smothered it with kisses. “Oh, Joan, Joan, my little -Joan, how can I bear it? How can you really be dead and I alive? Why is -the world so cruel? Oh, Joan, if only I could have died for you.”</p> - -<p>Aline bent over and kissed him on the forehead. “She told me to give -you that,” she said; then, after a pause, she went on;—“I am only a -little girl and I do not pretend to understand things, Wilfred. But -think, if you had died as you have been wishing, poor little Joan would -have been as unhappy as you are now. These things are a mystery and yet -somehow I feel that the spirit of light in its own way and its own time -must triumph over the spirit of darkness. I have always felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span> that; and -now that I have my new faith, I am more sure of it than ever.”</p> - -<p>“I do not see how that can be,” said Wilfred, “and yet as you speak I -seem to feel better.”</p> - -<p>“I do not understand it myself,” said Aline, “but I have been right -before.”</p> - -<p>Wilfred looked at her. Had this wonderful child with the strange deep -dark blue eyes some power that other mortals had not?</p> - -<p>“Angus,” said Ian’s voice from the other side of the room, “Walter has -sent us some money; he also offers to help us in every way he can, and -there are some other items that will interest you about the rumours he -heard in Carlisle. They seem to think we rode through Carlisle and went -to Penrith or Keswick. I have written a short note to Walter, which -Wilfred can take back. Did you come in the night, Will?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I got a lift on an empty wagon going back to Longtown. There was -straw in the bottom and I slept all the way.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid <em>I</em> could not sleep in a wagon,” said Ian. “Come and join -us at our meal, Wilfred.”</p> - -<p>They had their meal and afterwards sat and talked until it was time for -Wilfred to return.</p> - -<p>After he had gone, Aline and Ian set off to the camp where the Earl of -Hawick lay. When they arrived Ian asked if he might see the Earl, as he -wished to offer his services.</p> - -<p>The sentry looked at him very dubiously and then at Aline, after which -he seemed a little more satisfied, as she was better dressed. Finally -he called the officers of the guard, who subjected them to a similar -scrutiny.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span></p> - -<p>“I think I can see to your business, my man,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, I have a special message for my lord of Hawick,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>Aline started at the tone and looked at Ian: there was a quiet hauteur -about it that she had never heard before.</p> - -<p>The man seemed to notice it too. “Who is it that wishes to see the -Earl?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Say, Ian Menstrie, son of Alexander Menstrie; that will do.”</p> - -<p>Aline felt a little nervous; as she had never met a real Earl and -had something of the child’s imagination about the grandeur of such -personages.</p> - -<p>The officer returned very quickly, but the change in his manner seemed -almost to make him a different man.</p> - -<p>“Your Grace,” he said, bowing very low, “the Earl of Hawick is coming -at once.”</p> - -<p>“I said Ian Menstrie, not Alexander Menstrie,” answered Ian, looking a -little annoyed.</p> - -<p>“Yes, your Grace,” said the Messenger, “I made it quite clear; the Earl -of Hawick understands.”</p> - -<p>Aline was very puzzled, they seemed to have strange customs of address -in the army, but before she had time to think the Earl appeared. She -was a little disappointed. Was that an Earl? He was a fair figure of -a man, but was neither as handsome as Ian nor had he, she suddenly -thought, as she looked at the two men, the dignity of Ian’s carriage.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad to see you again, your Grace,” he said, doffing his -bonnet and bowing as the officer had done. “You are the very man we -want. I shall never forget<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span> how well you managed on that miserable day -at Pinkie Cleugh; and Scotland can never repay you for the rout of Lord -Wharton on the Western Marches on that cold February day. It was a -sorry remnant that he and Grey took back with them, and it marked the -turning of the tide. Our country was indeed at a low ebb then.</p> - -<p>“Of course you will share the command with me. I would willingly serve -under you, but these are my fellows and they know me; so I shall just -follow your advice. On my honour, you shall have all the glory, when it -is over; not that you used to care much for that kind of thing, and you -were really only a lad then.”</p> - -<p>Aline’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. Hawick continued,—“I heard -the news of the old man’s death about a week ago. It was somewhat of -a shock following so soon after your brother’s; but I said, that will -bring Ian Menstrie back to us if anything will. I am sure he will throw -in his lot with us.”</p> - -<p>Aline gasped. Who was Ian then, this carpenter-man, as she had thought -him? Even in the earlier days she had never supposed that he could be -more than a younger son of one of the lesser lairds.</p> - -<p>Ian seemed overcome and very sad. “Well, my Lord, if you must know,” -he said in as calm a voice as he could muster, “I am here by accident. -I have just had a run for my life, with my young page here, Angus -Gillespie. I am looking rather a sorry object, but let that pass. I -had not heard of my father’s death, or even of my brother’s. It is a -terrible shock.”</p> - -<p>“Poor fellow,” said Hawick, “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news -and you are looking a sad wreck. You must take as many days’ rest as we -can manage.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span></p> - -<p>“Before I forget, I want to know if you can let us have a couple of -horses; these are not mine and I want to return them to the owner. I -also wish to know if you can spare a couple of troopers to take them -back to Kirkoswald. They can arrange the matter at Carlisle.”</p> - -<p>“Are they English horses?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha! Fancy returning English horses across the border, when -once you have got them here. Well, you always were a strange fellow. -Yes, you can have as many troopers as you please, and horses and -anything you want.”</p> - -<p>Aline was very impatient to have Ian by himself and was glad when he -turned to go, after giving a brief account of his imprisonment and the -outline of his main adventures, avoiding all details.</p> - -<p>The Earl accompanied them to the inn and then took his leave, promising -to send Ian an outfit such as more became his station and, at Ian’s -special request, everything that under the circumstances could be -procured befitting a page of gentle birth.</p> - -<p>Aline was pleased to find no one in the hostel. Ian was tired and his -wounds hurt him, although Aline had attended to them regularly. He sat -down by the fire and sighed.</p> - -<p>It was a cold day and Aline crouched at the hearth-stone by his feet. -She put her hand on his knee and looked up. Ian’s eyes were full of -tears. Aline had never seen anything like this; she stood up, stroking -his head with her delicate hand and kissed him on the forehead.</p> - -<p>He did not speak, but drew her gently to him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span> child threw both her -arms about his neck and seated herself on his knee. “Oh, I wish I could -comfort you,” she said.</p> - -<p>It was too much for Ian and two great tears actually rolled down his -cheek. “My Father,” was all that he said. Then making an effort, he -controlled himself and looked at Aline’s beautiful sympathetic little -face. A curious feeling passed through him. He had lost his father; and -his father had never been kind to him, and he had gained this child, -who was devoted to him. Was this God’s recompense?</p> - -<p>He passed his fingers through her short locks. “What have you done with -all the glory you cut off?” he said.</p> - -<p>“It is upstairs. I plaited it in four plaits.”</p> - -<p>“May I have some?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“You may have it all if you like.”</p> - -<p>“It was a big sacrifice, child-heart,” he said softly, and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“May I ask you something,” she said, “even though it does make you sad: -but I would rather learn from your own lips? You know you have not told -me who you are. Who are you?”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment, while he continued gently stroking her hair. “I am -now the Duke of Ochil, little one.”</p> - -<p>Aline rose from his knee and crouched down on the hearth again. She -gazed up at him wonderingly. In after years as she looked back she -understood her feelings; but at the time they were a perplexity even -to herself. So far from being pleased that he was a duke, she resented -it. It seemed to put a barrier between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span> them;—his Grace, the Duke of -Ochil, could not be the same as her dear friend Ian.</p> - -<p>Ian saw the expression on her face and half-guessed its meaning. “It -does not please you, heartsease,” he said.</p> - -<p>She looked up quickly and then said simply,—“I do not know. It is -strange.”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxvi" id="xxvi"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -<small>THE BATTLE OF LIDDISDALE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE days slipped by and when Hawick had mustered two thousand foot and -some 300 horse he decided to move northward up Liddisdale. The Duke -of Ochil nominally commanded the cavalry, but was really the guiding -spirit of the whole.</p> - -<p>Angus, that is Aline, acted as Ochil’s page or squire and was soon -very highly in favour with all the officers. She was, however, very -uncommunicative and kept herself to herself, the which she found much -easier, in that there was a reserved hauteur about Ian when dealing -with those that were at all his equals, which he never displayed when -dealing with inferiors. At the same time every one’s respect for him -was very marked and his power over the men was immense. This new aspect -of his character interested Aline not a little.</p> - -<p>There had been rumours for some time of a gathering for an English -raid upon Scotland and early on the morning of the third day after -leaving Canonbie, their scouts brought word of the presence of an -English force, three thousand strong, that had moved up the Tyne from -Bellingham.</p> - -<p>Before setting forth, the Duke of Ochil spoke a few words of -encouragement to the men. “It may seem,” he said, “that neither on -their side nor on ours are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span> there enough to make our encounter of great -moment, yet is there more in the balance than that of which ye may be -in any wise aware. Our country is in the hour of her trial and a little -thing may decide the final outcome. On the one hand there is France and -on the other hand there is England, both eager to swallow her up. Yet -are there greater issues than this,—not only is the freedom of our -bodies at stake, but the freedom of our souls and not only of our souls -but of those of mankind.</p> - -<p>“Our host is small and our deeds may be obscure; yet though fame is -not likely to be ours, that which we do this day may well be the -foundation of greater things and by our blood we may purchase liberty -of conscience throughout the whole world. No deed is ever so small -as to be of no account and if we play the coward it may be the small -beginning that shall bring upon the nations an avalanche of woe.</p> - -<p>“It is for the higher that we strive,—for all that is noblest in man -against all that is low. Yea, I know that many of you here, yourselves -forget the glory of our destiny, zealous though ye be within your -lights. Yet it is the fight of enlightenment against darkness. It is -truth and development, love and beauty against all that is narrow and -stagnant, false and ugly. And if victory be with us, see how great is -the charge upon us that we ourselves do not fall short of our high -endeavour.</p> - -<p>“I have said that our host is small and our deeds must be small -likewise, and yet it is not a little thing that I ask of each -individual man. I ask all that ye have, I ask your lives. Nor do I -presume to say that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span> the Lord is on our side, but I do say that if each -do act according to his conscience, while putting aside all prejudice -and all bitterness of heart that might narrow that conscience, it is -not for us to fear the issue. Yea, as far as our minds may discern, we -fight for God and our country.”</p> - -<p>So he spoke, and there went up a great shouting, “For God and for our -country.”</p> - -<p>It was a still cold day and the very air seemed tense with the issues -involved. Aline’s heart beat with excitement, yet she was surprised how -calm she felt. “Surely I am afeared,” she said, “and yet I am full of -gladness and am ready to give my life, as Ian has asked.” She rode upon -a grey charger carrying the banner of Ochil which she had hastily made -at Canonbie with her own hands;—azure, a fesse between three crescents -argent.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28" href="#Footnote_28_28" class="footnote">[28]</a> Ian lacked Aline’s happy disposition, and looked troubled, -but his resolution to do or die was no whit less determined.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28" href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="anchor">28</span></a> A blue field divided horizontally by a broad silver band; -two silver crescents above and one below.</p></div> - -<p>The English cavalry were, as usual, immensely superior in numbers, and -while the Scots forces were forming their line, they hoped to press the -advantage by a charge, which at the same time should cover the advance -of their own infantry deploying out of the valley.</p> - -<p>The Scots were in two ranks, with the reserves below the crest of the -hill, every front man, the butt of his pike against his right foot and -the point breast high, the while those behind crossed their pike points -with those forward. Ian held his horsemen back on the right flank, -while the bowmen were on the left.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span></p> - -<p>The enemy charged swiftly over the haugh, their gay pennons a-flutter -on their lances, a brave sight to see. And as they came they -shouted;—“Down with the heretics; come on, ye coward loons.”</p> - -<p>“For God and our country,” the Scots replied, as the wave of Southrons -hurled itself upon the bristling pikes, only to break and scatter as -many a man of that goodly host met his doom.</p> - -<p>Ian taking them at a disadvantage led the Scots’ horse in a -counter-charge and menacingly they thundered over the plain, so that -despite his smaller force he drove them behind their own lines and -numbers more of the English bit the dust and among them the Lord of -Almouth, their leader, a noble and brave youth who received a lance -thrust in his side and fell to earth gripping the soil with both his -hands in the agony of death. And many a gay Scots gallant lay on the -ground between the hosts and the corbies gathered in the air watching -for their time to come.</p> - -<p>Then for a while the battle fell to those on foot and furiously they -fought and many doughty deeds were done on either side that day. But -terrible was the slaughter, as neither party would yield the advantage -to the other; and the shouting of the fighters mingled with cries of -the wounded, and ever and anon there boomed the roar of the artillery -in the which the English had the better of the Scots.</p> - -<p>The fight was stubborn and Aline’s mood, at first all eager, now gave -place to one of dread, the light began to fail and a voice within the -air seemed to whisper, “Whensoever the day goes down, the spirits -of darkness will gather for your destruction and then it will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span> be -too late.” She even thought she saw “Old Moll” stalking through the -battle-field and gloating over the slain.</p> - -<p>The battle wavered from side to side and at length it seemed for the -Scots as though all were lost. They had sadly given way and at the -direst moment of their need the Earl of Sanquhar, a man of great valour -and a tower of strength, was shot by an English archer and the arrow -went in at his throat and pierced right through his neck and he fell -forward speechless and the dark mist clouded his eyes. Then the Scots -wavered and fell back still more and the end seemed come and had it -not been for the Earl of Hawick himself, they would have been utterly -worsted. He rushed into the fray and heartened the wavering host and -they made a great onset and the battle stayed not.</p> - -<p>Yet did the cannon of the English work sore havoc in the Scottish -ranks, whensoever they were not in close combat, and the Duke of Ochil -came to the Earl and said; “My Lord of Hawick, I will endeavour to -capture them and we may even turn them on our foes.”</p> - -<p>He spoke and Aline followed hard after, and he led his men behind the -hill to the other flank and then made as he would charge the footmen -on the English right. But, as he came near to them, he swerved and, -passing round, he advanced to the mouths of the guns, and left and -right his men fell on either hand and their souls fled from them; but -Aline rode safely at his side.</p> - -<p>And they came right over against the gunners and one of them did shout -lustily and swing his rod over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span> the Duke and would have felled him to -the earth had not Aline driven the point of her long sword through his -mouth even as he shouted, and he fell backward and was trampled under -foot, while the rod fell harmlessly upon the saddle bow, and the rest -turned to flee but were cut down and not a man of them escaped.</p> - -<p>“Thou art indeed the good angel of my destiny,” said Ian; but he spake -not more at that time, as the fight was heavy upon him.</p> - -<p>Then were the English guns turned upon the English host and fear got -hold of them, brave men though they were, for that they were taken -behind and before; and as they shook and hesitated the Duke with the -two hundred that were left to him charged toward them from the rear. -And Aline went ever at his side.</p> - -<p>But the English horse made haste to come at him from far on their own -right, and take him in flank, or ever he closed with those on foot. And -as the English foot turned, some this way toward the Scottish horse, -and some that way toward the Scottish foot, a mighty shout arose in the -Scottish ranks as they closed with the English; “Now are they delivered -into our hands,” and they waxed ever more terrible till confusion fell -upon the men of England and the half of them broke and fled and thus -hindered the more part of their own horsemen from coming at the Duke.</p> - -<p>So he fell upon the other half and victory came on a sudden into his -hands; for all the English were now in flight and the left wing of -their horse that would have taken the Duke in flank fled also.</p> - -<p>And as he thanked God for his triumph he looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span> back and his heart -failed him, and he shuddered and his breath stood still, for Aline was -no longer to be seen, in that the grey horse had gone down at the last.</p> - -<p>As he gazed his head swam and darkness came over him. Victory was his, -but Aline was lost. He calmed himself and held his spirit in check and -even as the wind races over the hills, his thoughts passed through him. -“The enemy is scattering on every side. My work for my country is done -and therefore may I now turn to that which concerneth my own life.”</p> - -<p>There was not a moment to be let slip, the remnant of the right wing -of the foemen’s horse was still unbroken, and although too late now to -effect their purpose, yet, if so be that Aline were still alive, they -would pass over the very ground where she must be lying or ever a man -might run thither, however swiftly he sped.</p> - -<p>He swung round and galloped apace, and there, dead upon the earth, was -the grey horse, and by it, on the side next the foe, lay stretched the -fair slim page still clutching the banner with the silver fesse.</p> - -<p>“Surely it will be my own death,” he said, as the horsemen bore down -upon him. For an instant the thought unnerved him, but natheless he was -at her side. “What matter,” he cried, “the day is won, my work is done, -and, Aline dead, of what avail is life to me?”</p> - -<p>He leaped from his horse. It was too late; even now they were upon him; -he might not lift her to the saddle and bear her away.</p> - -<p>“Can I not break the tide with a barrier of slain steeds?” he said. -Then swift as the lightning flashes in the heavens, with his right arm -he swung her over her own dead horse, while with his left he raised a -fallen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span> pike. He leaped back and kneeled before the horse, gripping the -pike full firmly, whose butt rested on the ground, while with his right -hand he drew forth a pistol from his holster.</p> - -<p>On they came, they towered into the sky, the air was filled with their -shouting and the thunder of their hoofs. A single man! They heeded him -not.</p> - -<p>He fired, and the horse that would have trampled him fell low. Neck and -croup over it rolled upon the ground and the horse behind, that strove -to leap above it, received the pike in its heart, while Ian narrowly -avoided destruction under the falling mass.</p> - -<p>Then as a stream meets a boulder in its course and straightway divides -on either hand, so passed the warriors on the left and right.</p> - -<p>The rider of the first fallen horse lay in the throes of death, but the -second rushed upon him with his sword so that the Duke had but scant -time to draw and defend himself, and the sword cleft the Duke’s helm -and the wound was deep.</p> - -<p>Yet it was no long time they fought, for with swift skill the Duke -drove his sword throughout his body and he fell with a loud cry to the -ground, stretching his arms to heaven, and Ian drew out the steel and -with the blood the life rushed forth and black night covered his eyes.</p> - -<p>But Ian, even as he did so, turned to where Aline lay, her face all -white amid the ruddy gold. He leaned above her. She was not dead, nor -even sorely hurt, but stunned and dazed and cut about and bruised.</p> - -<p>He raised her with great tenderness and bore her from the scene of -carnage just as the evening fell. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span> cold breath blew upon his face -and he fancied he heard a voice that hissed—“Woe’s me, we are foiled; -it is on us the blow has fallen, even ere the darkness came. Too late, -too late.” At that moment the sun sank and the light vanished behind -the hills. The rout was now complete. Here and there a few individuals -made stand against their pursuers, while little groups of wounded men -were crying for succour. The haugh was littered with so many corpses -of those who had gone forth that morning in the healthful beauty of -their youth, that it was a sight most grievous to behold. Ian stumbled -with his burden. He himself had been twice sadly wounded again. Whither -should he go? There were no houses in sight.</p> - -<p>He remembered, however, that the house of the Laird of Dalwhinnie was -only about two miles away. There was nowhere else to go, but both -the new wounds and the old were exceeding sore and it was with great -difficulty that he carried her.</p> - -<p>He bore her to the foot of the hill and summoned four troopers, and -with their assistance mounted a horse. He would not let any one else -touch the child and, accompanied by the troopers, he rode to the house.</p> - -<p>The laird was not a protestant, but Ian was graciously received and -offer was made to accommodate as many of the wounded as possible.</p> - -<p>“You had liever pay special attention to those poor English varlets,” -said Ian. “There will be few to give them heed.”</p> - -<p>The Lady smiled a sad smile and led the way to a beautifully appointed -room. “Your Grace has a wondrous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span> fair child with you,” she said. “I -marvel not at your care for him. Is he sore hurt?”</p> - -<p>“I trust not,” said Ian, as he laid Aline gently down. He dared not -let any one help him, lest Aline’s secret should be discovered; so he -dressed her wounds himself and put her to bed.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxvii" id="xxvii"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> -<small>THE BIRTHDAY PARTY</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>FTER the battle the Earl of Hawick disbanded the greater part of his -forces, retaining but a small nucleus in case it should be necessary -to bring military aid to the party of Argyle and Glencairn in support -of their covenant against the regent. With this small force he moved -northward. The Duke was far too sore hurt to travel and neither he nor -Aline were able to move for some time.</p> - -<p>As soon, however, as they could sit a horse they set out for the Castle -of Menstrie, where they arrived in due course and were most warmly -welcomed by the Duchess of Ochil and her daughter Shiona, who had been -anxiously awaiting Ian’s return after they first received news of his -arrival in Scotland.</p> - -<p>His mother was overjoyed to see him and he briefly told her the story -of the child. When he had finished she kissed Aline and said, “You poor -sweet thing, now at last you have reached a haven of rest and you must -count me as your mother as far as I can be one.”</p> - -<p>Aline had not before felt shy of her boy’s clothes, but the gentle -courteous lady made her long for her own things and she blushingly -began to apologise.</p> - -<p>“You need not distress yourself, dear child,” said the Duchess; “we -can soon remedy that. Indeed you look very pretty and you make so -graceful a page that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span> you need not regret your present garb,” she added -kindly and stooped and kissed her again. “We shall just make you one of -ourselves and you have only to tell us what you want. For the present -we can send over to Stirling and get everything that you absolutely -need this very day.”</p> - -<p>In the evening, as they were all sitting by the fire, the Lady of Ochil -leaned over and, taking Ian’s hand, said: “I have some sad news for -you, my boy. You know that the estate was very sadly impoverished when -your father succeeded. But he has been extravagant and your eldest -brother was the same, and always borrowing from him. Worst of all, your -brothers induced your father to make over to them during his lifetime, -all the estates that he could. The regent, too, has already shown her -hostility on your succession. It is a very long story; but you will -have little but the title and the small original estates round the -Castle. Even those are so burdened that I doubt whether we can continue -to live here.”</p> - -<p>“Do not mind, Mother, about me. I never expected anything, and so I -shall not miss it; it is for you that I am sorry. You will feel the -change so much.”</p> - -<p>“No, my son. I am so glad to get you back that I mind nothing.”</p> - -<p>Aline rose from where she was and sat down again on the floor at Ian’s -feet. “I am so sorry for you,” she said, and once more she had that -curious kind of feeling that she had noticed before. She <em>was</em> very -sorry for Ian; but was she altogether sorry for the fact in itself? Did -it not in some way bring them closer together?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</a></span></p> - -<p>Ian’s sister, Shiona, had always worshipped her second brother; he -was unto her as a god, and as she watched Aline it rather amused her -to see, as it were, herself, over again, in the way that the child -continually hovered round him. She was the youngest of the family, and -now a tall slim girl of seventeen. She felt curiously shy of Ian, as -she had not seen him for several years. He still looked very young; but -he was now the head of the house in her father’s place.</p> - -<p>She soon fell under Aline’s spell and the two girls became fast -friends. Except in appearance and physique Aline was much in advance of -her age; and her recent experiences had matured her view of life. The -girls occupied the same room and were continually together when they -could not be with Ian. Ian sometimes felt even a little touch of envy; -he had come to regard Aline almost as though she specially belonged to -him.</p> - -<p>It was a time of considerable trouble and anxiety, both in public and -private affairs, yet it was a very happy household in spite of all -their troubles and difficulties. Ian was very slow in recovering his -strength. Excitement had carried him through, but the collapse was all -the more severe when it came. For two months he could move but little; -however, he gradually began to be able to take short strolls out of -doors.</p> - -<p>Even before this he had set his mind to see what could be done to -save the remnant of the estates. Rigid economy had to be practised, -for he was determined that property that had been in the family for -hundreds of years should not go if possible. Unfortunately only a small -portion, even of the fragment, happened to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</a></span> protected by entail. -Consequently he found it necessary to reduce the fragment still further -by selling two estates that had been acquired by his grandfather. -They were so heavily burdened that the margin was very small, but it -enabled him to prevent the foreclosure of his most pressing creditors. -All the retainers and servants were dismissed except one serving man -and a maid, the horses were sold and the castle was all shut up except -the hall, the library and a few bedrooms. The arras, the plate and -everything of value except the heirlooms were sold. The only thing Ian -retained was a famous sword, given to him by the Regent Arran for his -services against the Lords Wharton and Grey. It was of immense value, -magnificently jewelled. He took it out and looked at it. No, he could -not part with that. It was too full of association and interest.</p> - -<p>The household arrangements were simplified to the barest necessities. -The girls did the housework and Ian himself, when necessary, assisted -the serving man. He wore the simplest homespun and his sister dressed -as plainly as possible. Ian refused to allow his mother to wear the -things that the rest of them did, because, he said, they all had the -future before them in a way that she had not.</p> - -<p>She smiled and kissed him, and assured him that she would be quite -happy whatever she wore, as she had her dear son back again, and she -chaffingly impressed upon him that it was still long before she would -be an old lady.</p> - -<p>Aline absolutely insisted on wearing things that even Mistress Mowbray -would not have provided, both gowns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</a></span> and body linen. But they were -beautifully made by Shiona and herself, and although the material -was coarse, the general effect was always charming. She succeeded in -getting some frieze in excellent shades of green and brown, that made -most pleasing colour combinations with the brownish white of the full -sleeves and skirt of her coarse dowlas chemise, and the rich red of her -glorious hair.</p> - -<p>The result of the new Duke’s efforts was that he gained the respect of -every one; and two of his largest creditors came to him one day and not -only said that they would not press for payment, but offered to lend -him more at a much lower rate of interest. This offer he accepted and -paid off a number of smaller creditors, who lived at a distance and did -not know what was going on.</p> - -<p>After a few months he brought things into such a condition that, though -he saw no prospect of being anything but poor all his life, he hoped to -leave the property in a fairly sound condition when he died.</p> - -<p>There was one little extravagance that he had determined to allow -himself. Aline’s thirteenth birthday took place in April and he -resolved that she should have the happiest day of her life, if human -means could accomplish it. He pondered for a long time how it was to be -done; because he regarded the property rather as a trust than in any -way his own. At last he bethought him of the sword. That at least was -his own. It was, it was true, his most cherished possession; but he -would part with it. He took it out one evening and fingered it fondly. -Truly it was beautiful and the only relic of his early youth. Other -things might be replaced, but that could not. Moreover it would be a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</a></span> -joy forever, whereas a day’s pleasure was soon gone by. “’Sdeath. How -could he think such things?” He hated himself. So he resolutely shut -the case and turned the key. “What was a sword compared with Aline’s -happiness?”</p> - -<p>He had to take his sister into his confidence, as he wanted Aline to -have a complete outfit for the occasion, and this Shiona was to arrange -unknown to her. Ian took the sword to a goldsmith in Stirling, but the -man did not like to take it, the sword was so well known and considered -as one of the local marvels. At last he persuaded Ian to let him lend -him the value of the sword, allowing a year in which it could be -redeemed. Ian gave the man a few commissions to execute for the great -occasion and departed.</p> - -<p>Everything was planned with all secrecy and Aline was not told about -it till two days before, when a number of persons arrived to put the -old place into order. The old rooms were thrown open and cleaned, the -arras, that had been sold, was temporarily replaced by other fine -specimens. Sconces with hundreds of candles were brought and the floor -and the furniture and the metalwork was polished till all shone like a -mirror. The old heirlooms, including the magnificent nef<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29" href="#Footnote_29_29" class="footnote">[29]</a> and other -gold and silver plate, which Ian could not sell, but which had been put -away, were brought out.</p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29" href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="anchor">29</span></a> A gold or silver centre piece for the table made in the -shape of a ship.</p></div> - -<p>The beautiful old castle had never looked finer. Serving men and -maids, pleasantly attired, were everywhere at hand. There was a new -costume for every one. Ian’s was of very simple material, but he looked -wonderfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">360</a></span> handsome when he met Aline on the morning of the great day.</p> - -<p>“I have a very nice present for your birthday, princess,” he said, -stroking her hair, “but it will be rather a shock at the same time, so -you must prepare yourself for it. I have been thinking that you need a -lady’s maid,” he went on, laughing, “and I have succeeded in finding -you one.”</p> - -<p>“Marry, I need no lady’s maid,” she replied, somewhat puzzled at the -twinkle in his eye, “and you must not think of such a thing. I prefer -to look after myself. I am not a grand lady and, even if I were, I -would rather not have one. I am sure I should not like her.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure you would,” said Ian, “and in any wise you must try and like -her, because I insist.”</p> - -<p>“You must not tease me, your Grace, I really do not want one.”</p> - -<p>“I will not be called ‘your Grace,’ pussie,” he said, gently pulling -her hair.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you get me a lady’s maid, I shall call you ‘your Grace’ and -then we shall all be grand together.”</p> - -<p>“But I have gotten her already. I heard of her in a curious way in a -letter from Walter Margrove, but I kept it as a surprise until I could -get hold of her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but really, Ian, I do not want her,” Aline protested. “I should -hate her. Yes, by my troth, I should,” and she looked genuinely -distressed.</p> - -<p>“You would not hate this one,” he replied a little sadly; “it is some -one that you know. But I must not tease you.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean Audry?” she asked doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“That would not be a shock, sweet child. No,—here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span> she is.” He then -beckoned to some one out of sight through the open door; and a slim -girl of nearly twelve came shyly forward and stood hesitatingly on the -threshold.</p> - -<p>Aline gave a little startled glance and then looked at Ian, who smiled -reassuringly. “O Joan,” she cried, “they told me you were dead.”</p> - -<p>“I was very ill,” said the child, louting low, “but I was not dead, -Mistress Aline; it was the little girl that came from Barnard Castle, -who died, whom Mistress Ellen Allen had sent to Durham from Teesdale -too, much in the same manner that you sent me.”</p> - -<p>“But how did the mistake happen, Joan, and why did you not let me know?”</p> - -<p>“The woman that was looking after me died, and I was taken to -Newcastle. I was ill, oh, so ill for a long time and I knew nothing -about it, and when I heard, I could not for long enough get any one to -write for me and then, at last, I was told that you had disappeared. -When Walter Margrove heard about it he looked me up in Newcastle and -then, some time after, he told me that I was to go into service with -the Right Honourable Sir Ian Menstrie, Knight of the Most Noble Order -of St. Michael, Lord Duke of Ochil and Earl of Strath Allan, and I was -so frightened.”</p> - -<p>Ian could not control himself and the child had to pause while he -laughed. “Whoever put all that into your head? Never mind, you can -forget it,—just go on.”</p> - -<p>“It was Walter Margrove, your Grace, and he told me not to be afeared, -as I should find some one that I knew. But it was not till I came here -last night that I knew who it was and, oh, Mistress Aline, I heard what -you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">362</a></span> were saying just now and you will not hate me really, will you?”</p> - -<p>“No, Joan, no, I will never hate you and indeed I am so glad to see you -looking so much better”; and Aline flung her arms round the child’s -neck and kissed her, while tears of joy stood in her eyes.</p> - -<p>For a time the children forgot everything but themselves and Ian stood -and watched them in their perfect happiness. Aline was very much taller -than Joan and in contrast with the frail delicate child looked like a -goddess of strength. Joan clung to her in ecstatic abandon and gazed -into those wonderful ultramarine blue eyes as though they were the -windows of heaven. “I never knew before what it was,” she said, “to be -perfectly happy. Mistress Aline, I think the old folk at Holwick were -right. You cannot be a child of ordinary flesh and blood like the rest -of us.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Joan, you must not talk like that, and I told you long ago that -you must not call me Mistress Aline. But, oh, I am so glad to get you -back; you cannot tell how glad.”</p> - -<p>Ian was just going to steal away and leave them to their joy, it was so -pure, so unalloyed, when Aline suddenly bethought herself of him and -leaving little Joan she rushed forward, seized his hand with both her -own and pressed it to her lips. “It was you who thought out all this; -oh, you are good to me.”</p> - -<p>She lifted up her face and he printed a kiss on her forehead. “No, -princess; you remember my quotation from Homer. It is you that are good -to me. I owe you everything—I do not mean mere physical life—that is -nothing—nothing.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">363</a></span></p> - -<p>The guests were to arrive at what a later age would have deemed the -very early hour of eleven o’clock, so after breakfast Ian suggested -that Aline should go upstairs and get ready.</p> - -<p>“But I am ready,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You cannot appear like that,” said Ian. “You must get Shiona to tidy -you up,” he said with assumed severity.</p> - -<p>“But I have nothing better than this,” she answered, just a little -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Shiona has some kind of a thing that will look better for -to-day. Run along with her and take Joan; it can be an apprentice -lesson for her.”</p> - -<p>When Aline reached her room she was lost in amazement at the things -that had been prepared for her and was charmed with them all. Shiona -helped her to dress and Joan folded up the things she took off and put -them away.</p> - -<p>The linen was of the very finest quality that French looms could -produce, smoother to the touch than anything she had ever worn, and -adorned with bands of <em>tela tirata</em>. There was a pair of the fine silk -hose that had recently been introduced into Britain, of a beautiful -blue, somewhat lighter than those she had lost, and with white clocks. -The broad toed shoes were of white kid, with blue satin showing through -the slashes, and a large real sapphire set in silver on each shoe.</p> - -<p>The camise was of soft white silk rather full, smocked at the throat -and reaching below the knees, with two bands of lace insertion of the -finest Italian <em>punto a reticella</em> near the hem. Above this Shiona put -on the armless surcoat, which was low at the neck and short,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">364</a></span> showing -the white camise both above and below as well as the arms, which were -full at the shoulder but tighter toward the wrist. This was decorated -round the open sides with orphreys or borders of cloth-of-silver -embroidered with white heather, the badge of the Menstries, in which -the little white blooms were real pearls.</p> - -<p>The cloak was of rich blue velvet with two exquisitely designed diamond -clasps and tasselled cords of white silk, the whole lined with white -satin and adorned with a short cape and border of miniver. In the two -lower corners and again near the clasps, it was delicately embroidered -with coloured silk and gold and silver thread, after the fashion of -old Scandinavian work. A belt of large rectangular silver plates, each -with its own sculptured design, and a chatelaine of gold completed the -costume. It was a little old-fashioned in style, but Ian preferred the -lines of the earlier date to those that were coming into vogue.</p> - -<p>Aline was so overwhelmed with delight that she did not at first pause -to reflect; but after a time she suddenly exclaimed horror-struck; -“Shiona, what are you doing; you know that I have not the right to -wear any of these things, except perhaps the chemise? My father was a -gentleman so I may wear white silk, and I might have had black velvet, -but not blue. No one below a Knight of the Garter or the highest -orders may wear blue velvet. I do not know even whether I may wear the -chatelaine. I doubt if father had two hundred merks of land and of -course I cannot wear cloth of silver or gold, no one less than barons -can wear that; and as for miniver, I do not even know if barons may -wear it: I believe I should have to be a countess, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">365</a></span> I know for -certain that diamonds and pearls are reserved for dukes and duchesses. -So I shall have to take everything off and just wear my old things and -the silk chemise”; and she gave a little sigh.</p> - -<p>“It is all right, dear; we thought of that. Ian says that you are -his ward now and that therefore they could not object to you wearing -anything that I may wear, and I may wear anything I like except purple, -which is reserved for the blood royal.”</p> - -<p>To reach such a height of unimagined grandeur almost took Aline’s -breath away. “By my troth this is a wonderful birthday,” she said, -and little Joan looked on in sympathetic wonder, secretly pleased at -being associated with any one so exalted. But her cup was filled to -overflowing when she found that Ian had provided her with a costume of -silk and fine red camlet trimmed with black velvet, besides a small -gold chain, which things he said she was entitled to wear as a lady in -waiting in his household.</p> - -<p>Shiona was giving a few last attentions to Aline’s hair and adding -the finishing touch, a blue velvet fillet decorated with five large -crystals and three pearls;—“What wonderful hair you have, dear!” she -said.</p> - -<p>Aline had always refrained from any allusion to her hair and even -turned the subject aside; but it had grown so phenomenally that she was -feeling happier about it and she cried gaily;—“Oh, that’s nothing,” -and darted away to Ian’s room, where she happened to find him.</p> - -<p>Aline’s beauty was proverbial, but she looked more dazzling than ever. -Ian caught her in his arms and kissed her. “You are the loveliest thing -on earth,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">366</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” answered Aline, “but I want to show Shiona the hair that -was cut off.”</p> - -<p>Ian took it from its hiding place, handling it lovingly and gave it -her. “Come back,” he said, “I have something else for you.”</p> - -<p>She took the hair and with innocent joy showed it to Shiona, who was -lost in astonishment. She then returned with it to Ian.</p> - -<p>He carefully put it away and then said; “Shiona has dressed you, but I -want to do the very last bit myself.” He then opened his hand and in it -lay a light chain with a subtly designed pendant of which the dominant -feature was a brilliant mass of red, one gigantic ruby, which Ian had -taken from the pommel of his sword.</p> - -<p>He clasped it round her neck and it just fell on the white silk. “One -touch of red in the blue and white,” he said, “but after all, it’s not -as fine a red as your lips, heartsease,” and he kissed them.</p> - -<p>The stone was obviously of immense value and Aline tiptoed hesitatingly -backward till she came to the wall. There on tiptoe she stood, with the -palms of her hands flat against the wall and her chin slightly lifted -till the back of her head also touched.</p> - -<p>She was a little dazed. At first the beautiful things had been a sheer -joy. Even the momentary cloud of the “sumptuary laws” had been swiftly -dispelled; but now the thought suddenly overcame her;—“How could Ian -afford it?” She noticed the plain simplicity of his own attire and her -quick intuition told her the truth.</p> - -<p>“Ian, Ian,” she cried, “you should not give me all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">367</a></span> these things. What -have you done?—How did you do it?—You have parted with something you -should not.”</p> - -<p>She did not move and looked very tall in the becoming costume, standing -with her heels raised high from the ground.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Ian realised that she would soon be a child no longer, and -then he would lose her. It came like a knife. He had not admitted -even to himself how much she was to him; but his love for her had -gradually absorbed his whole being. It was the greatest shock he had -ever experienced in his life. He stepped forward and picked her up in -his strong arms and kissed her passionately. “It was my sword, heart -of mine,” he said, “but there is nothing in the world that I would not -wish you to have.”</p> - -<p>Aline endeavoured to protest, but he laughingly put his hand over her -mouth and led her down-stairs.</p> - -<p>There was a large concourse of guests and the dinner was quite a -sumptuous ceremony, with a great boar’s head brought in with much -solemnity. Ian and his mother sat in the middle of the high table and -Aline had the seat of honour on his right.</p> - -<p>When dinner was over they strolled in the pleasaunce and afterwards -came in and played games such as hot cockles, and hunt the slipper, -in which every one, both old and young, took part. Then followed the -dancing. If the guests had been charmed before by Aline’s beauty, now -they were enthralled. Aline and the Duke led off with a stately pavan -and all watched with rapt interest the slow dreamy movements, that -displayed to perfection the exquisite loveliness of the child’s form. -Ian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">368</a></span> had learned dancing in Italy and France and was a consummate -exponent of the art, so that the two made a picture the like of which -had never been seen in broad Scotland. After the pavan they danced the -cinque paces, a new dance not long introduced from Italy, which in turn -was succeeded by the lively coranto, that gave a new opportunity for -Aline to reveal her light and agile grace, vying in its airy swiftness -with the beauty of the more studied movements of the slower dance. -Ian’s costume was of a blue somewhat deeper in tone than Aline’s, with -white hose and other touches of white as in hers; and the result made a -pleasing colour effect as they whirled together in the dance.</p> - -<p>But it was not only by her appearance, but by her subtle charm of -manner that the child fascinated every one present. They had heard the -main facts of her sad story and each and all did their utmost to give -her pleasure. At the close of the evening they held a mock coronation -ceremony, in which Aline was crowned with a plain gold circlet and -then, while seated on the throne, every guest was presented to the -Queen of the evening and they all kneeled and kissed her hand,—barons, -earls, countesses and every one present.</p> - -<p>Aline could not help a smile when the Earl of Hawick, who was present, -kneeled before her. This was the man that only a few months ago she had -been nervous to see and now he was humbly kneeling and kissing her hand.</p> - -<p>It had been a supremely happy day for Aline, and her only regret was -that Audry had not been able to share it. Even this was modified by -a curious coincidence, after the guests had gone. They had all left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">369</a></span> -early, as most of them had ridden from long distances and even those -who were putting up in Stirling had some way to go.</p> - -<p>After the last guest had departed, and while the family were seated -round the hearth, the castle bell rang and they heard the drawbridge -being lowered. Their own serving man appeared shortly afterward. “My -lord, a man named Walter Margrove, who hath a boy with him, hath -arrived and saith that he wisheth to see you on a matter of private -concern.”</p> - -<p>“Shew him up,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>Walter Margrove came in somewhat hesitatingly, accompanied by a still -more nervous lad. Aline in her white and blue costume rushed forward to -greet them; whereat Walter was quite taken aback and Wilfred, for it -was he, nearly turned tail and fled.</p> - -<p>Ian advanced and shook their hands and presented them to the Duchess -and the Lady Shiona. “If you had arrived a few minutes ago,” he said, -“you should have been presented to the Queen’s Grace. Get on your -throne again, Your Highness,” he said to Aline, and then with much -laughter they made Walter and Wilfred kneel and kiss her hand.</p> - -<p>Walter had recently been in Holwick and had decided that he might vary -his programme by a tour in Scotland, and make it an opportunity of -seeing Ian and Aline and little Joan, and of taking them the news from -Upper Teesdale, together with a letter from Audry. The venture had -proved a great success and Walter was in an unusually contented frame -of mind, even for him.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, man,” said Ian, “and tell us everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">370</a></span> about Holwick. We -should much like to know all that befell after we escaped.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but tarry a little, Ian,” said Aline; “there is something that -must be done first. You tell Walter what we have been doing, while I -talk awhile with Wilfred. Wilfred, come hither,” she continued, leading -the way to one of the double seated windows.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad to see you again, Wilfred,” she said, when they had sat -down, “and you are looking well.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mistress Aline, and I am glad to see you, and, oh, Mistress, -you are looking bonnie in those brave things,” he added in a burst of -boyish admiration, and then subsided overcome by shyness for having -said too much.</p> - -<p>“Wilfred,” she said, “you recall the last time that we met and what we -spake about?”</p> - -<p>“I do, indeed, and I shall not forget your sympathy.”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember my saying that I thought the spirit of light must in -its own time triumph over the spirit of darkness? I did not know at the -time what moved me to say it. I only meant it in a general way, and yet -I had a strange presentiment that it had some special meaning for you.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Wilfred, what was the sad news that you heard at Kirkoswald? Tell me.”</p> - -<p>“They told us that little Joan had gone to Durham and died there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but did you hear it from any one who really knew Joan?”</p> - -<p>“No, Mistress, it was from a man who had been over to Holwick.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">371</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then how do you know it was true?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mistress Aline, Mistress Aline,” said the boy, “do you think it -might be untrue?”</p> - -<p>“I know it was untrue,” she said gently.</p> - -<p>For the moment the boy was too overcome to speak. His heart beat -violently, his eyes grew round and large. “Oh, tell me, tell me,” he -besought.</p> - -<p>“I promised that I would bring you back the things you gave to Joan. -I cannot do that yet; so I am going to bring you Joan herself. She is -here in this place.”</p> - -<p>“Here in this place!” he repeated as Aline rose and went to fetch the -little girl.</p> - -<p>She was back in a minute or two and the boy was still seated in the -same attitude, dumbfounded.</p> - -<p>“Here she is, Wilfred,” she said, leading Joan forward by the hand.</p> - -<p>The boy looked from one to the other too bewildered to know what to do. -Oh, how lovely Joan looked in her red costume guarded with black velvet -and the white linen chemise showing below her throat and beneath the -velvet hem. But he was too bashful to advance.</p> - -<p>Joan, however, was equal to the occasion. “Well, Wilfred, are you not -going to speak to me?” and she stepped forward and threw her arms round -his neck.</p> - -<p>Aline withdrew and left the two children in the window seat, whence -they emerged a few minutes afterwards and timidly drew near the group -round the fire.</p> - -<p>“Now tell us all about Holwick, Walter,” said Aline, making a place for -the two children.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Ian, “why were they so slow in pursuit?”</p> - -<p>“Mistress Mowbray would not let them have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">372</a></span> horses from the Hall -and the folk broke the girths and bridles of their own horses, and -finally they had to get fresh horses in Middleton. The excitement was -tremendous; but the strangest thing to the most part of us was the -behaviour of Mistress Mowbray. She seemed to be greatly concerned and -wrung her hands and said, ‘By my Lady, I trust the child hath escaped,’ -and, later in the day, Elspeth told me that she met Thomas in the -lower quadrangle and he, knowing the hatred that Mistress Mowbray had -toward you, must needs cry unto her. ‘Methinks those fresh horses -from Middleton will soon bring the jade back,’ and she grew purple in -the face and said to him that, if they did, she would see whether it -were too late to lodge him in gaol because of the corn he had taken -along with Andrew. I saw Thomas when I was there last. He is an ill -creature, and he much misliked it when it was clear that Mistress Aline -was safely away. Yet is he but a white livered knave. Father Ambrose -rouseth my ire more than he.”</p> - -<p>“But you spake of Mistress Mowbray,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Yes, the first thing that she did was to send over to Appleby that -very night for Mistress Audry, who came the next morning. Elspeth said -that the proud woman wept on her neck, so that it were pity to see. I -would not have been in the place of Father Martin or Father Austin if -they had fallen into her power. For days she made the household tremble -under the weight of her authority.</p> - -<p>“The next day Master Richard came back looking like a broken man. He -said he had tried everything but could do nothing. As the time passed -on, and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">373</a></span> gradually became clear that the pursuit had failed, he -recovered himself.</p> - -<p>“Luckily for Mistress Audry no one thought of questioning her as she -had been away so long; but every one was marvelling who it could -possibly have been that had dropped on a sudden from heaven.</p> - -<p>“Then news began to leak through. First they heard that two of the -pursuers had been buried at Haltwhistle. Then came the news of the -night that you spent at Brampton. Wilfred Ackroyd was found and stuck -to his tale that you had gone to Carlisle, but they found nothing -there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Wilfred!” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“I cannot help it,” he said, “I did laugh when I saw them galloping off -the wrong way.”</p> - -<p>“Timothy held his peace,” continued Walter, “and no one seemed to -connect the drowned prisoner in the Eden with Mistress Aline. Indeed I -doubt if the tale of your drowning ever reached Holwick, your Grace. -The priests went south and Master Mowbray failed to track them, at any -rate at first. I believe he did eventually get into communication, but -they refused to say anything.</p> - -<p>“It seemed pretty clear that Mistress Aline had escaped but who was her -saviour has remained to this day an insoluble mystery.”</p> - -<p>“Then they guessed nothing from your letter, Ian?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Walter. “When I was there your note, that you sent in a -round about way through Master Eustace Cleveland, had just arrived. -They were overjoyed to hear of the child’s safety and after much -discussion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">374</a></span> came to the conclusion that Cleveland himself had something -to do with it in spite of his denial. ‘Marry,’ said Mistress Mowbray, -‘I saw the way he was taken with the child.’ ‘So was every one except -yourself, woman,’ said Master Richard, ‘that proves nothing.’ Mistress -Mowbray mumbled something about not taking up with every new face, like -some people, and Master Richard did not press the point.”</p> - -<p>“Who told you that?” asked Aline.</p> - -<p>“Mistress Audry, and she says that since the first few days, when her -anger had passed, her mother has been much gentler than was her wont -to every one. She has had your little garden carefully wrought over. -‘Mistress Aline might come back,’ she says. She is much changed.</p> - -<p>“Master Richard believes that Mistress Aline is somewhere in hiding in -Teesdale, but he has forbidden enquiry to be made, as he thinks, under -the circumstances, it is safer, in the event of any attempt on the part -of the authorities to find her, that they can all honestly say they -know nothing. I believe that he personally thinks Master Gower knows -more than Master Cleveland.”</p> - -<p>“Now let me read Audry’s letter,” said Aline. This was a matter of some -difficulty, as Audry was barely able to write; but the evident trouble, -that the letter had been, made it a dearer token of affection. Aline -made it out as follows:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">“To my dearest and most beloved cousin Aline Gillespie,</p> - -<p>“Thou canst not think how fain I was to get thy dear letter. -Walter will tell thee the most part of the news, but I must with -mine own hand tell thee how overjoyed I was to know of a surety -of thy safety. When Mother sent for me and I came home I was -heartbroken. I used to sleep in thy bed and kiss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">375</a></span> the things that -thou hadst worn and cry myself to sleep. But gradually it seemed -clear that thou hadst escaped and I offered up many prayers of -thankfulness as shall I again and again this night.</p> - -<p>“I have one item of good news. Dost remember the linen that -Mother found in our room. It was then lying with the wrappings -and cord with which it came. She took them all down and must -herself have put the wrappings on that little dark shelf near her -linen chest. I recognised them one day by the colour of the cord, -and I took them down, and lo, within, there was the little book. -I have put it in its own secret place in the lock in the library. -I am sure this will glad thine heart. Someday I trust thou wilt -be able to read the rest to me. Thou wilt indeed be the grand -lady now;—to think of thee living in a great castle with a real -Duke! May God be with thee.</p> - -<p class="right2">“From <span class="smcap">Audry Mowbray</span>.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>After Aline had read the letter they told Walter the true state of -affairs and how he had happened to come on the only festal day that -they had had.</p> - -<p>It was arranged that Walter and Wilfred should put up for the night. -There certainly was ample room for the horses in the empty stables. -The Duchess was tired and went to bed early and was soon followed by -Shiona, so that Ian and Aline were left by themselves.</p> - -<p>They sat quietly for a long time, Ian gazing silently at Aline, idly -sketching her shifting poses on the easel that happened to be standing -near; but he was not conscious of what he was doing; his thoughts -were far away as they wandered over the strange circumstances of his -career. Aline was more like her mother than ever, although still -more surpassingly beautiful. He was quite sure about it now. It was -undoubtedly Aline’s mother that he had loved with that wild boy-love -when he was but thirteen, and now Aline would soon be a woman herself! -“Who was there,” he wondered, “who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">376</a></span> would be worthy of such a treasure? -In any case it could not be very long now before some one claimed her. -His own mother was married at fifteen, so was the Lady Jane Grey, whom -Aline in some ways resembled.” He sighed sadly.</p> - -<p>“Are you not happy, Ian? I am so happy to-night,” said Aline, and came -across and kissed him and then nestled at his feet after her favourite -manner.</p> - -<p>“Not altogether,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Tell me what it is.”</p> - -<p>“Not to-night, heartsease,” he answered, bending down and kissing the -fragrant hair. “Some day, perhaps, I will.”</p> - -<p>For a time the room was very still. Suddenly a thought occurred to Ian. -“I have just remembered something,” he said; “I will get it.”</p> - -<p>The rush of events had crowded the little pouch and its contents out of -his mind, but his present mood reminded him of it.</p> - -<p>He brought the amulet from its hiding place. Aline was still seated -on the floor. He sat down on the floor also, a little behind her, and -lifted one of the lovely hands. “I have something else that I meant to -give you before,” he said, holding up the bracelet.</p> - -<p>The strange blue stones shone in the firelight as if they themselves -were on fire. “‘Weal where I come as a gift of -<a name="love" id="love"></a><ins title="Original omitted close double quote">love,’”</ins> he read. -<a name="pray" id="pray"></a><ins title="Original omitted open double quote">“Pray</ins> God -it may be so, heart of mine.”</p> - -<p>Aline leaned back and lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him -as he told the story.</p> - -<p>“There are no scars on the beautiful hands now,” he said softly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">377</a></span></p> - -<p>She half drew the hand away and then stopped and it lay passively in -his hold as he lovingly fastened the bracelet round the perfect wrist.</p> - -<p>She did not thank him; she did not speak; she only lay there quietly -looking into his eyes.</p> - -<p>A log slipped from the fire; it did not make much noise, but the sound -echoed through the deserted rooms. How absolutely alone together they -were!</p> - -<p>Somehow the bracelet seemed to have a special significance: perhaps she -might be held after all. A feeling of peace, almost of happiness, stole -over him.</p> - -<p>“You are good to me,” she said at last. “Yes, I am happy.”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">378</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxviii" id="xxviii"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> -<small>THE LAST ADVENTURE</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>N order that Aline should not discover her presence, little Joan had -been put to sleep the first night in an upper chamber, in a wing of -the great castle remote from that occupied by the family. To avoid -extra trouble on the day of the birthday, she returned there the second -night, although in future she was to have a small ante-room connecting -with the girls’ chamber. In the rooms below her were the servants who -had been hired for the occasion. She half undressed and, as she sat -combing her hair, she looked out at the dark night. Below, she heard -the rushing of the burn, and, dimly, under the starry sky she could see -the great hills to the north. There was a close feeling in the air, as -though there might be thunder or heavy rain. It was a little oppressive -but her heart was so full of gladness that she refused to allow it to -influence her.</p> - -<p>How strangely things had come about. She remembered the horrible -prophecy of “Moll o’ the graves” about her going away that seemed -to mean death. It was curious how it had been fulfilled and yet -not fulfilled. Could the old hag really in some way see into the -future, and what did the prophecy mean about her beautiful little -mistress,—“she shall follow not long after; marry, I see the fire -about her”? They had indeed come near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">379</a></span> to burning her, but she had -escaped the flames. “Well, all has turned out for the best so far. -Mistress Aline said that the light would overcome the dark. I believe -she is stronger than old Moll, after all,” she thought.</p> - -<p>She had finished combing her hair, and after kneeling before her little -crucifix was soon in bed and asleep.</p> - -<p>Aline meanwhile, however, lay awake; the heavy storm-feeling in the air -would not allow her to rest. She was excited also from the events of -the day. After an hour or two she got up and looked out. The stars had -all gone and the thick clouds made the night impenetrably black. Shiona -was sound asleep. She crept back again to bed and tossed and tossed, -but it was of no avail. Another hour passed. She thought she would get -up and feel for the tinder box and light the lamp. Where was it? Could -she find it in the dark?</p> - -<p>As she lay there wondering, it seemed to get a little lighter. Yes, -it was certainly getting lighter, surely it could not be morning yet. -She lay for a few minutes, things in the room were rapidly becoming -visible, but that was surely not daylight; no, it was not daylight. She -jumped up and looked out. “Gramercy, the castle is on fire.” She looked -again; it was the wing where Joan slept. She crossed the room and woke -Shiona. “Quick,” she said, “the castle is on fire. Wake them all—tell -Ian—Joan will be burnt—I must go.”</p> - -<p>She dashed down the stairs, as she was, without staying to put anything -on, and ran across the court yard. There she met the terrified servants -rushing from the building.</p> - -<p>“Where is Joan, have you seen her?” she asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">380</a></span></p> - -<p>“No, Mistress,” they said, “she must still be in her room.”</p> - -<p>Aline ran to the foot of the stairs.</p> - -<p>“You must not go up,” they screamed, “you must not go up, the stairs -will fall.”</p> - -<p>It was an unfortunate fact that at some time, when alterations were -being made, a wooden stairway had been substituted for the original -stone one, which now existed only in a ruinous condition.</p> - -<p>But Aline ran on without heeding the warnings and started to climb the -stairs. The fire had broken out on the second floor and the flames were -raging through to the staircase. Could she get past? She caught up -her nightrobe in a tight bundle on her breast to try to keep it from -the fire and made a rush. The flames scorched her skin and she burned -her bare feet on the blazing boards. But she managed to get past. -One sleeve even caught alight, but she was able after she had passed -through to crush it out with her other hand.</p> - -<p>“Joan, Joan,” she shouted, as she made her way into Joan’s room. Joan -was still asleep, partly stupified by the smoke. Aline roused her and -they rushed back to the stairs, but in the interval the whole stairway -had become a bellowing furnace and the flames roared up it, so that -they could not look down.</p> - -<p>Joan gave a little pitiful cry. “We are lost, oh, Mistress Aline, we -are lost.”</p> - -<p>“No, not yet, Joan, keep up a stout heart; let us try if there be not -another way.”</p> - -<p>They ran through two rooms in the opposite direction to the stair and -came to a door. But it was locked. They tried in vain to open it. They -beat upon it, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">381</a></span> it was beyond their strength to break, so they went -back to Joan’s room.</p> - -<p>“Can you climb, Joan?” asked Aline.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Then I must try and let you down.” She seized the bedclothes as she -spoke and knotted them together. Alas, they could not possibly reach. -She remembered how Ian had saved Wilfred by the rope under the bed and -feverishly threw off the mattrass. The bed had wooden laths!</p> - -<p>She looked out of the window and saw that a crowd had gathered below. -How far down would the bedclothes extend? She made trial and shouted -to the crowd that some one should try and find a tall ladder, while -others, in case of failure, should bring a blanket and make a soft pile -of hay. The crowd scattered and in a few moments there was a great heap -of hay and some ten persons holding a blanket stretched above it. Yet, -look as they would, no ladder was to be found except a little short -thing that was no use. Possibly the other ladder was in the burning -building, possibly it had been mislaid in the festal preparations.</p> - -<p>Aline’s lips were parched and her tongue clave to the roof of her -mouth; for the moment she nearly succumbed to her fear. So it was -Joan’s life or hers? “Why cannot Joan climb?” she thought. Surely she -could manage to get down as far as that? She looked at the child; but -she was stiff with terror and absolutely helpless.</p> - -<p>Somehow Aline felt it was not the same thing as when she had swum the -river, then she had a chance of her life; indeed, if she had had no -chance there was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">382</a></span> the slightest use in trying to swim, as it could -not have helped Ian. Here there was no chance; could she think of no -other way?</p> - -<p>The flames roared nearer, she began to find it hard to breathe. -“Perhaps there is a way,” she said, “but who can think in a case like -this?”</p> - -<p>Joan had now become unconscious. Aline thought no more; the sacrifice -was made; she tied one end round Joan and put a pillow on the sill to -prevent chafing. She dragged the bed to the window and took a turn with -the extemporised rope round one of the knobs to prevent it going too -fast. She lifted the child and gently lowered her toward the ground. -For a moment she hesitated again. “Could she climb down and untie -Joan?” No, the whole thing might break.</p> - -<p>The drop below Joan was about fifteen feet. “Hold tight,” she shouted, -and those below braced themselves together and gripped the blanket -firmly and the child fell into it. She was so light that the hay below -was not necessary.</p> - -<p>The fire had now reached half across the room itself and was breaking -through the floor boards in little tongues of flame, when the choking -smoke curled upward.</p> - -<p>The end had come then; there was no hope. She turned to go and see if -by any chance the locked door could be made to yield. It was vain, as -indeed she knew, and the flame and smoke in that room was worse than -her own. She ran back and looked out of the window. She thought she saw -Ian with a white drawn face looking upward, but he disappeared.</p> - -<p>Once again in the frenzy of despair she rushed to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">383</a></span> other room and -flung herself against the door; but had to stagger back to Joan’s room -before she was completely overcome. The flames again caught her night -robe and she tore it from her as she struggled to the window where she -might still breathe. The heat was awful; oh, the pain of it! “But I -must die bravely,” she said, “as father would have me do.”</p> - -<p>All that she had ever done seemed to rise before her. She saw her -mother as in the portrait. She saw her father and Audry, and last she -saw Ian. He seemed to be weeping over her! Was she already dead? No, -and she prayed;—“Lord Jesus, Thou hast taught me to come unto Thee and -I beg of Thee to forgive me all that I have done wrong in my life. Take -me in Thy arms and if it please Thee, end this terrible pain. Be with -Ian and comfort him, Lord, when I am gone. Watch over little Joan and -make her happier than I have been. Oh, Lord, the pain, the pain!” The -smoke thickened, she gave one little gasp and spoke no more.</p> - -<p>Aline was right; it was Ian that she had seen below. Shiona had first -roused her mother and then Ian. He had gone to the stairway just -in time to see it give way and come down with a crash. He had then -endeavoured to get round the other way, but the smoke and flame was -impossible. Once more he had come down and obtained some wet cloths to -wrap over his face and make one more attempt. It was on this occasion -that he had glanced up and seen Aline at the window.</p> - -<p>She looked just as he had seen her in his visions with the flame and -smoke rushing round her. It was this then that he had foreseen. It was -this that the old woman had foretold. A sword went through his heart,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">384</a></span> -followed by a dull crushing pain that seemed to paralyse his will. -He ran as in a dream. Again he reached the range of upper rooms. The -flames belched forth at him and the smoke took weird fantastic shapes. -It stretched out long skinny arms as though to hold him back and there -all round him were evil mocking faces spitting out at him with tongues -of flame.</p> - -<p>Voices surged through the air. “This is the end, you shall not reach -her, she shall die, but you shall live—live.” The voices ended in a -peal of laughter. What was life to him without Aline. He was going mad. -He knew it. Mad! Mad! That was the fiendish scheme of the powers of -darkness. He would live and yet never see anything all his life but the -dead child. Horrible!</p> - -<p>He had come to the worst part; he wrapped one of the wet cloths about -his mouth and nose and over his hair and plunged into the smoke and -flame. It roared, it stung, it blinded him, he nearly screamed, but he -staggered through and came to the great oak door. He tried, like Aline, -to open it, but it would not yield. He hurled his weight against it; -it was of no avail. Again and again he tried and then stood back to -look for some weapon. A heavy oak table all ablaze stood on one side of -the room; he dashed at it, and heaved it over, seizing one of the legs -and wrenching at it with all his might. He strove and pulled and then -kicked it with his foot. It came away with a loud crash.</p> - -<p>It was partly burned and the red hot surface bit into his flesh. He did -not care but raised it above his head and turned to the door. Tortured -by the agony of heat as he was, there, to his excited imagination, -appeared the horrible form of “Moll o’ the graves,” leering at him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">385</a></span> and -barring the way. She seemed to push him back with her bony claw-like -hand. He swung the heavy oak leg through the air like a maniac and -shrieked,—“All the devils in Hell shall not hold me back.” He frothed -at the mouth and battered in her skull. She grinned at him as the blood -trickled through her teeth and pointed to the monstrous shapes that -seemed to gather out of the smoke. He thrust her aside with his foot, -his heart ceased to beat, but he thundered on the door. Once. Twice. -Thrice. And the fourth time it gave way, while the door flew open and -he fell heavily forward.</p> - -<p>He scrambled to his feet and hurried on. There, by the window, lay the -beautiful little body. As his brain reeled he saw the martyr, George -Wishart, standing over it in the fire, holding the evil spirits at -bay. Ian’s eyes seemed to start from his head. He pressed his hands -over them as he advanced and looked again. The flames were actually -touching her. Ah, she was dead, but how unutterably beautiful! Why for -the second time in his life must death snatch out of it the one supreme -treasure? Legions of thoughts swirled through his mind. He would paint -her like that. Why was he not a sculptor? He would immortalise her form -in marble. What transcendent loveliness!</p> - -<p>As he stooped quickly, suddenly his brain cleared, and, gathering up -her hair, he wrapped it in one of the wet cloths and drew it in a -single thickness over her face. With another he covered what he could -of the exquisite white form and picked it up and ran.</p> - -<p>This time the fiends seemed unable to reach him, but before he arrived -at the third room there was a reverberating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">386</a></span> roar, part of the floor -had given way and a great blank ten or twelve feet wide yawned before -him.</p> - -<p>Once more the voices shouted;—“You are ours—ours—and she is dead.” -Yet he heeded them not, but turned back a little way, then ran with all -his might and leaped and cleared the chasm.</p> - -<p>On he went, down the stairs, the madness was on him again. “Keep -back, keep back,” he shouted as he tore through the crowd. He looked -so terrible, his face distorted with pain, as he ran past that they -scattered in all directions. Shiona, at first, alone dared to follow -him. He took Aline to one of the lower rooms in the other part of the -castle. “Oil,” he cried, “send some one for oil and linen.”</p> - -<p>Little Joan was coming timidly behind and ran for the things. Ian bent -over Aline; she did not breathe. He filled his lungs with fresh air and -putting his face down to hers breathed into her and drew the air forth. -It was the intuition of affection and it saved her life. After a few -moments she began to breathe again. Joan had then returned with the oil.</p> - -<p>It was the smoke and gases of the fire that had suffocated her, and -except on the soles of the little feet there were nowhere any serious -burns. But there were great red patches here and there all over her, -and the arm where the night dress had first caught fire was slightly -blistered. He wrapped her entirely in oiled linen, and laid her gently -on a <a name="mattrass" id="mattrass"></a><ins title="Original has 'mattress'">mattrass</ins> that had been brought down.</p> - -<p>All the time he never spoke a word and Shiona was frightened at his -strange manner. Immediately he had finished he fell senseless to the -ground. They picked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">387</a></span> him up and laid him on the mattrass. He was badly -burned in several places, particularly the palms of his hands; he had -also, as they afterwards discovered, strained himself severely in the -leap with the child in his arms. For a time he lay still and then began -to rave in wild delirium.</p> - -<p>They did what they could for him, while Walter took his best horse and -galloped to Stirling for a physician. Meanwhile the neighbours from far -and near were fighting the fire. There were three well-shafts, carried -up to the roof in the walls of the castle; and chains of men and women -passed the buckets from hand to hand. The same was done from the burn -down below. They did not attempt to do more than keep the fire from -spreading beyond the blazing wing. But a new ally came to their aid -that helped them not a little. The long threatened storm burst upon -them with thunder and lightning, but accompanied by a torrential deluge -of rain; and before morning the fire was completely under control.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">388</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxix" id="xxix"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> -<small>A TALE OF A TUB</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a beautiful late autumn day and the sun was shining on the -moat and the old walls of Holwick. Some few weeks previously news -had arrived in that remote corner of the death of Queen Mary and the -accession of Elizabeth, and Audry was sitting as she often did, in the -bay window of Mistress Mowbray’s bower, looking down toward Middleton, -when four riders and a pack horse were seen approaching the gates.</p> - -<p>Audry had noticed their coming and, as they drew nearer, she recognised -two of them and ran eagerly out to meet them. “Oh, how I have hoped for -you to come,” she said, “and somehow I knew it would not be long before -you were here.”</p> - -<p>Ian dismounted and helped his sister and Aline to alight, while the -serving man took the horses. Aline was in perfect health, but Ian was -still worn and thin. She had not been long in recovering; but he had -hovered between life and death for some time.</p> - -<p>“This is the Lady Shiona, Ian’s sister,” said Aline. Audry came forward -a little shyly, but Shiona said, “Oh, I have heard so much about you,” -and kissed her warmly.</p> - -<p>Audry then flung her arms round Aline as though she would never let her -go.</p> - -<p>“You must not leave Ian in the cold,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, I should think not,” exclaimed Audry;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">389</a></span> “why, if it were -not for him you would not be here at all,” and she held up her face to -be kissed.</p> - -<p>“She is getting too big to be kissed, is she not?” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Aline, “you kiss me.”</p> - -<p>“That is a different matter,” said Ian, laughing, as he kissed Audry, -“you are my ward, you see.”</p> - -<p>Although Master Richard and his wife were by no means pleased at the -political change, they were delighted that it had brought their young -visitor, and Mistress Eleanor greeted her with an unusual show of -affection. She had been long enough falling under Aline’s spell, but -the conquest was complete and resulted in the re-development of a side -of her nature that had practically lain dormant since, a charming girl -of sixteen, Master Richard had met her in York and against all the -wishes of his parents had insisted on marrying her. She became more -human and more anxious to please, and gradually won the esteem and even -love of her servitors and the people of Holwick.</p> - -<p>Aline introduced her escort, and while they were being shown to their -rooms, she went and found Elspeth.</p> - -<p>Elspeth wept tears of joy over her and said; “Now, hinnie, I shall -be able to die happy. I thought the sunlight had gone out of my life -forever.”</p> - -<p>They had a long talk and in the afternoon she went down with Elspeth -to the Arnsides. Janet seized a stool and dusted it for the young -mistress; and John, who was just outside the house, came in.</p> - -<p>“O John,” Aline said, “I can never repay you or thank you enough, it is -no use my trying to put my thanks into words.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">390</a></span></p> - -<p>“What I did was <a name="comma3" id="comma3"></a><ins title="Original does not have comma">nothing,</ins>” he said.</p> - -<p>“But if you had not done it, the Duke of Ochil would never have come -and I should have been lost.”</p> - -<p>“No one who knew you, Mistress Aline, could have done less.”</p> - -<p>The time seemed all too short to the Arnsides, when Aline turned to go. -“I shall ask Cousin Richard to let us stay here for at least a month,” -she said, “even if I do not come back here to live. I am going to teach -you to read, John, and I have brought you this,” and she produced a -beautifully bound copy of the Scriptures, which she had bought for him -with all the money she had left.</p> - -<p>John was confused with gratitude, and Aline fled, leaving him an -opportunity to recover by himself.</p> - -<p>She had had a long talk with Ian in which they had decided that it was -right that Master Mowbray should hear the whole story and be told about -the secret room, as after all it belonged to him.</p> - -<p>So that night she secured the little book and took it up to her old -room with Audry.</p> - -<p>As they were undressing, Aline took off the ruby pendant, which she was -wearing concealed beneath her simple costume.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Audry, “diamonds and pearls and—what a -marvellous ruby! But Aline, you have no right to wear this.”</p> - -<p>“I feel a little doubtful, but Ian says it is all right, as at present -I am in the position of his ward and in any case I am Scots and not -English.”</p> - -<p>“But if you are father’s ward then you will count as English.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">391</a></span></p> - -<p>“Anyway, I shall not wear it in public; so it does not matter.”</p> - -<p>“Your luck has come at last, Aline; just fancy your wearing diamonds -and pearls like a duke’s daughter. But you deserve to be lucky after -all you have been through. I would not go through what you have been -through, for all the luck in the world, you beautiful lovely thing.”</p> - -<p>Audry had by this time begun combing Aline’s hair. “Why, Aline,” she -said, “your hair is not quite so long as it was!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Aline, and she told her all about -the cutting off. “But it has very nearly grown again, it has been -extraordinarily quick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are beautiful,” Audry went on, “look at that hair, look at -that neck, look at those perfect ears.”</p> - -<p>“Do not be silly, Audry!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Audry, not heeding, “and the luck is not over yet. You will -be married very soon.”</p> - -<p>Aline blushed. “Be quiet, Audry.”</p> - -<p>“But you are far too beautiful and charming and good to be left long -unmarried,” and Audry embraced her impulsively.</p> - -<p>“Come, let us get into bed and sit and study the book.”</p> - -<p>So Aline read to the end and discovered that it explained how to open -the great iron chest.</p> - -<p>The next day they managed to leave Shiona with Mistress Mowbray, and -Aline, Audry and Ian took Master Mowbray into the library.</p> - -<p>They sat in the great window seat and Aline read out of the little -book and told the story of their adventures,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">392</a></span> which was frequently -supplemented by Audry and Ian. Richard Mowbray was again entranced and -he thought Aline’s new tale even more wonderful than Malory.</p> - -<p>When she had finished they all went down to the secret room and Master -Richard asked hundreds of questions about all their experiences. They -examined everything and explored the secret passage to the cave and -back.</p> - -<p>“But there is still one thing that we have to do,” said Aline, “and -that is to open the great iron chest and see what is inside. I have -only just discovered how it is done and there is a good deal that -requires doing first. But listen to this: <a name="quote5" id="quote5"></a><ins -title="Original has single opening quotation mark">Exactly</ins> under the -middle of the great oriel window of the library, the book says,—that -a foot and a half below the water in the moat is a chain made of links -of greenheart wood, so as to withstand the wet; and at the end of that -is a large round ball also of greenheart, and embedded in it with pitch -is the great key of the iron chest. I have been thinking how to get it -and, if the chain has not rotted and we do not have to dredge for the -ball, I think I might go a-sailing for it in a tub, which would be fun. -We might see to that this afternoon and then open the chest to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“You will probably upset,” said Audry, “but, as you can swim like a -fish, that will not matter; but I shall laugh to see you tumble in.”</p> - -<p>“You bad girl,” said Aline, and chased her round the room. “Well, I am -going to try anyway.”</p> - -<p>After dinner Master Richard went and ordered two of the men to bring -a great tub from the laundry, while Aline went upstairs and changed -her things, putting on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">393</a></span> a pair of boy’s trunks. She then threw a cloak -about her and came down.</p> - -<p>The tub was rolled round till it was opposite the window and then Aline -insisted that the serving men should go away. A board, hastily thinned -down at one end, made a sort of rude paddle and, with shrieks of -derision from Audry, the others held the tub and Aline cautiously got -in and squatted tailorwise on the bottom. They all laughed so much that -they nearly upset the tub at the outset.</p> - -<p>Aline then started on her perilous voyage, but, the tub being circular, -every time she took a stroke with the paddle, it simply spun round and -round.</p> - -<p>Those on the bank held their sides with laughter, but the more they -laughed the more confused Aline became. She tried taking a stroke first -one way and then the other. This was not quite so bad, but the tub -revolved backwards and forwards like a balance wheel.</p> - -<p>“Try little short strokes pulling the paddle towards you,” shouted Ian, -when the laughter had a little subsided. This answered somewhat better -and the tub slowly made its way across, but with many vagaries and -strange gyrations.</p> - -<p>At last she reached the wall right under the great projecting corbel -of the window, and, very cautiously putting down her arm, she felt the -chain.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” she shouted, “I have it”; but she spoke too soon. As she -pulled the chain, the tub over-balanced and Aline tumbled head first -into the moat. Audry collapsed altogether at this and rolled over on to -the grass.</p> - -<p>Ian, however, for the moment took it seriously and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">394</a></span> was going to jump -in, but Audry seized one of his ankles to stop him and laughed still -more till the tears ran down her cheeks. “You’ll kill me, you two,” she -said, as Aline’s head appeared above the water with long green weeds -hanging in her hair.</p> - -<p>Aline swam to the chain and found that the ball was very heavy. She -then righted the tub.</p> - -<p>“Get in, get in quickly,” shouted Audry mischievously, and Aline, -without thinking, made the attempt with the result that the tub lifted -and turned over on her like an extinguisher. Audry was convulsed.</p> - -<p>“You little mischief,” said Ian, and picked her up and held her out -over the water at arm’s length; but she only laughed the more.</p> - -<p>Aline meanwhile again righted the tub and then shouted to the others to -bring an axe. Audry refused to go. She said she must wait for the end -of the performance. So Master Richard ran and called one of the men, -who brought the things required.</p> - -<p>While he was gone Aline, with difficulty, got the ball into the tub. -She then swam across for the axe and, taking it over, she cut the -chain, threw the axe in with the ball and, pushing the tub before her, -swam back to the other side.</p> - -<p>“You will be getting to know this moat,” said Audry, as Ian pulled -Aline, all dripping, up the bank. “This is your third adventure in the -moat since you came.”</p> - -<p>She then went up and changed her clothes and joined the others in the -solar. There she found that Father Laurence had just arrived. He was -looking worn and worried, but a smile lit up his face as Aline came in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">395</a></span></p> - -<p>The old man’s hand trembled as he laid it on her head. “You are growing -tall, my child; we shall soon see you a woman. I have just arrived with -some strange and horrible news, which I have been telling my Lord of -Ochil. You remember old ‘Moll o’ the graves,’ Aline.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Father.”</p> - -<p>“She’s dead, my child; I saw her a few minutes ago on my way up. She -was lying at the foot of the Crags.”</p> - -<p>Aline shuddered.</p> - -<p>“We cannot leave the poor creature there,” he continued; “can you let -me have a couple of men, Master Richard, and would you mind her lying -here for the night? I will arrange for the funeral to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said Master Mowbray, and he arose and accompanied Father -Laurence.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes later Aline and Ian were crossing the courtyard and -saw the bearers carrying the body on a hurdle into the room below the -granary. Ian at once drew Aline away in another direction, that she -should not see the horrible sight. He had caught one glimpse of the -face, and it was enough. It was the same as he had seen in his awful -vision in the fire,—the terrible grin,—the blood trickling through -the teeth. “Come away, little one, let us go elsewhere,” he said.</p> - -<p>After all was quiet again, Thomas Carluke walked stealthily across the -quadrangle and entered the room where the body lay. A sheet had been -placed over it, but he drew it aside. The grin on the face seemed to -mock him. “Aha!” he said, “you fooled me twice, you old wretch, but -you will never do it again. You need not laugh at me like that. I have -cleared my score<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">396</a></span> with you now. Did you not tell me that you would get -rid of the child?—and they got her out of the moat. Did you not tell -me she would be burnt?—and now Queen Mary is dead and there are no -more burnings. You miserable worm, what was the good of your hate? You -were no better than Andrew, no better than Father Ambrose. Pah! You -defied me just now on the Crags, did you? Well, here you are; and I -would do it again. Oh, it was so easy,—one little push. Ha, you still -mock; no, you cannot hurt me,—no, no,” he repeated apprehensively. -“You are dead, you cannot come back. I will not believe it. The devil -has your soul. But I must go, must go.”</p> - -<p>He drew the sheet over the body again and went out. “Fool,” he said to -himself, “what am I afraid of? Fool, I say.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Aline was walking with Audry through the garden.</p> - -<p>“I am glad the horrible old thing is gone,” said Audry. “Are not you?”</p> - -<p>“It seems too dreadful to say so,” Aline answered, “but I cannot -pretend that I am sorry. She always seemed to me a sort of evil -influence, a spirit of discord and hate.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Audry, slipping her arm round Aline’s waist, “just as you -are the spirit of love.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be foolish, Audry; besides I do not believe that any one could -love everybody.”</p> - -<p>“No, but need you hate them? Come now, did you hate old Moll?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know; somehow she seemed too mean, too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">397</a></span> petty and spiteful to -hate. You could not fight her exactly. She was not worth fighting, so -to speak.”</p> - -<p>“But I always felt,” said Audry, “that behind the old woman, not in the -old woman herself, was a power of evil and hate, a great power that -could be fought.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, quite so. I think there are things to hate. I do not believe -in sickly sentiment; but that poor wretched old woman in herself was -rather a thing to be pitied than hated, and, now that I come to think -of it, I never did meet any one really to hate.”</p> - -<p>“What about Thomas?”</p> - -<p>“That is just a case in point,” said Aline. “I despise him, pity him, -but one would lose one’s own dignity in hating such a poor thing. Now -if one could find some one really strong, really great and wicked, one -could hate them. But no one of that sort has ever come my way.”</p> - -<p>“Have you thought of Father Martin?”</p> - -<p>“I did not hate him. I was afraid of him and I did not think him -altogether a good man; but in the main he seemed to act up to his -lights. Father Austin, I might have hated, perhaps; but I do not know -enough about him. There is some one over there that I love,” she said -suddenly, as Father Laurence appeared at the other end of the garden. -“I think he is the best man I have ever seen.”</p> - -<p>“Better than Ian?” asked Audry.</p> - -<p>“I do not know, and it is impossible for me to say. Dear Ian. I used to -feel that there was something weak about him, but I think I was wrong. -The wonderful thing about him is that he is developed on every side. It -is true that we have mainly seen the softer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">398</a></span> side and also for a great -part of the time he has been ill. But I keep discovering new things in -his character. In any case he has a far more difficult position than -Father Laurence. I should think that really it would be a much easier -thing to retire from the world like a priest, than to try and make -oneself a more complete and fully developed being and remain in the -world. And after all, the world would cease to exist if we were all -priests and nuns. To live the worldly life is certainly the lowest, and -to come out of the world is higher than that; yet I am not sure that -there is not something harder and higher still; and I believe Ian has -done it; but here comes Father Laurence.”</p> - -<p>The children ran to him, and the three walked round the garden -together. It was a rare picture, the fine tall figure, slightly bent, -with the wonderful spiritual face, an epitome of the glory of age, and -the two exquisite children, just approaching the threshold, on the -other side of which they would soon reach the mysteries of adult life.</p> - -<p>After they had talked for some time Audry asked, “How do you suppose, -Father, that Moll met her death?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot say, my children; she may have fallen over by accident, but -Master Richard thinks that she threw herself over. You know, little -girl, how she hated you,” he said, turning to Aline, “and she must have -been bitterly chagrined that everything has gone so well with you. -Perhaps he is right, but let us speak of other things.”</p> - -<p>He stopped, and for a time no one said anything at all. Then, moved by -some motive that he could not explain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">399</a></span> he went on,—“Children, I shall -soon have to bid you farewell.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, why?” they both said in a breath.</p> - -<p>“I do not know what prompts me to tell you, Mistress Aline,” he said.</p> - -<p>Aline started; it was the first time he had ever addressed her like -that; and the old man continued,—“I have not yet said anything to -any one else, even of the old faith; and I know, child,” he went on, -dropping into the more familiar manner, “that you are not of us; so why -I should tell you, a mere child, and a heretic,”—he lingered on the -word regretfully,—“I am unable to say. The Queen’s Grace is minded -that there shall be an act of Uniformity for this realm and that the -prayer book of 1552 shall be re-affirmed. It liketh me not and I shall -not subscribe and therefore shall lose my benefice. I had hoped to end -my days in Middleton, but it cannot be, and I must, if he be willing, -take up my abode with my nephew. It will be a sore grief to me after -all these years.</p> - -<p>“But my work is done and I must not repine. One thing, Aline, child, I -would say, and that is this,—thou mindest how I have ever told thee -that the light must overcome the dark, and so has it been with the -machinations of that poor evil woman. So hath it been with you; not -that it will be ever so with things temporal, but it will be so in -the world of the unseen and eternal. But farewell, my children, and I -must go. Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, in nomine Patris et Filii et -Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30" href="#Footnote_30_30" class="footnote">[30]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote-container"> -<p class="label"><a class="footnote" name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30" href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="anchor">[30]</span></a> May almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, -the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">400</a></span></p></div> - -<p>When he had gone Audry said, “How unjust it is that Father Ambrose will -remain and that Father Laurence should go.”</p> - -<p>“How so?” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“Have you not heard; Father Ambrose hath said that he will subscribe -to anything that will keep his place, and he is the very man who -persecuted you in the name of the Church?”</p> - -<p>“What a scoundrel!” said Aline. “I had liever see Father Laurence, the -Catholic, than Father Ambrose, the protestant, hold his own, protestant -though I be. I must see if the Duke may not be able to do something, -though he be not of this realm. Now that Queen Elizabeth’s Grace hath -come to the throne he hath many friends who are right powerful in this -land. Father Laurence is an old man, and will not be long in this life -in anywise; methinks it will not be a hard matter.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you will succeed,” said Audry, “and I shall do my best with -Master Richard that Father Ambrose be moved, whatever dishonest shifts -he may practice.”</p> - -<p>They had reached the door that led into the garden. “Come, Audry, the -afternoon is spent and it is time for supper.”</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">401</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxx" id="xxx"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /> -<small>THE GREAT IRON CHEST</small></h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE next morning Master Mowbray went over to Newbiggin to look at the -cottage that had been occupied by “Moll o’ the graves,” as it was -his property, on the old Middleton estate which was much larger and -more important than Holwick. The cottage was in poor condition and he -decided that it should be rebuilt. It was dinner time before he came -back, so they were not able to go down to the secret room till the -afternoon.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Aline, as they entered, “first the chest has to be laid on -its back.”</p> - -<p>This they tried to do, but it was too heavy. They pushed and pulled, -but they could not stir it.</p> - -<p>“Let us use some of those stout poles there, standing in the corner,” -said Ian; “then we can lever it over.”</p> - -<p>This they did and with some difficulty the chest was turned over.</p> - -<p>“I expect that is the very thing for which the poles were used,” Audry -suggested.</p> - -<p>“Probably,” said Aline, as she put her finger on the top right hand -rivet head and slid it an inch to the left.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is how it works,” exclaimed Master Richard, greatly -interested.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">402</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now you have to turn it back again.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear,” they all cried; but set to work, and again the chest stood -upright. Aline then moved the second rivet in the same way.</p> - -<p>“Now turn it over again,” she said.</p> - -<p>“This is too much, we are not galley slaves,” expostulated Ian. “You -are a tyrant, Your Highness.”</p> - -<p>“Well, anyway I help, my Lord,” answered Aline, with mock gravity.</p> - -<p>“‘Help,’ you wee kitten!” said Master Richard; “I think I do most of -this; and it is my belief,” he added, “that it is not to my interest -that the chest should be opened at all.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” they all exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Never mind. Come. I want to see what’s inside i’ faith.”</p> - -<p>Once again they heaved and tugged and turned it over. Aline then moved -the rivet. “Now turn it back again.”</p> - -<p>“Look here, we cannot go on that way,” said Master Richard. “There must -be thirty rivets. We shall rebel, my liege.”</p> - -<p>“No, you must do your duty.”</p> - -<p>So once more they struggled and turned it back.</p> - -<p>“There, you have done your part,” said Aline, and they all stood round -and laughed at each other, when they saw how hot they looked. Every one -watched Aline with great curiosity as she now slid aside the whole of -one of the iron plates of the chest and disclosed a small lock. Into -this she fitted a key and turned it with some difficulty. It was the -key on the bunch in the library, whose use Master Richard had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">403</a></span> -known. This enabled all the central part of the front to hinge down and -disclose the large lock to which belonged the key from the moat.</p> - -<p>The lid was very heavy and it took two of them to open it. The contents -were covered by a black velvet cloth, and above it lay a parchment upon -which was inscribed in large letters:</p> - -<div class="block-centre"> -<div class="block"> -<div class="center">ALINE GILLESPIE</div> - -<div class="line">IN ACCORDANCE WITH MY WILL, WHICH</div> -<div class="line">LIETH BEHIND THE LOCK OPPOSITE THAT</div> -<div class="line">WHICH CONCEALETH THE BOOK.</div> - -<p class="smcap right mt0">James Mowbray.</p> -</div></div> - -<p>Aline gazed in blank astonishment when she saw her own name.</p> - -<p>“That is your great-grandmother’s name,” said Master Richard, “but it -is all right, the chest is yours all the same, as you are the sole -heiress of that line. But if you do not mind I should like to see the -will, even before you lift the velvet cloth.”</p> - -<p>Aline ran upstairs, her heart beating with wild excitement, and was -followed by Audry. The lock moved exactly as the other one had done and -there lay the lost will.</p> - -<p>“How stupid of us not to find it before,” said Audry, “but, oh, I am so -glad that something really good has come to you at last.”</p> - -<p>They ran down again.</p> - -<p>“Here it is,” said Audry, who was holding the will.</p> - -<p>“Let his Grace read it,” said Master Richard, “as he is a disinterested -party.”</p> - -<p>It was a long will, but the tenour of it was,—that the old Mowbray -estates at Middleton went to James Mowbray’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">404</a></span> son, but the little -Holwick property, with half the contents of the library, was left to -his daughter, Aline, and to her heirs after her forever.</p> - -<p>The will concluded,—“And that the said Aline Gillespie and my -son-in-law Angus Gillespie may be able to keep up the Holwick estate -in a manner that is befitting, I also bequeath for the use of the said -Aline and Angus and their heirs after them the great iron chest and its -contents, the which chest, with the name of Aline Gillespie inside, -is now within the secret room; and the means for the discovery of all -these things are in the little book in the library, concealed in the -lock opposite to this. The parchment with holes, that is hidden in the -cover of the aforesaid book, is to be placed over each page in turn and -the letters that appear through the holes may then be read as words.”</p> - -<p>“Well, little one, I always suspected that the Holwick property might -be yours; but James Mowbray died suddenly and the will was never -found,” said Master Richard.</p> - -<p>He saw clouds of anxiety gathering on the child’s face, so he went -on,—“You must not think about it now; let us look at the chest.”</p> - -<p>Aline lifted the velvet and on the top was a tray. It was filled with -orphreys and other embroideries of the celebrated <em>opus anglicum</em> -and was of immense value. So perfectly had the chest fitted that the -colours were all as marvellous as the day they were done.</p> - -<p>Below this was another tray, which contained exquisitely carved ivories -and wonderful enamel work, several beautifully bound illuminated -manuscripts of the highest possible excellence, many of the covers -being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">405</a></span> elaborately garnished with precious stones, and two jewelled -swords, one of Spanish make and one from Ferrara that almost equalled -Ian’s own.</p> - -<p>Beneath this tray again was a layer of soft leather bags in ten rows of -five each, every one of which contained five hundred gold pieces.</p> - -<p>This brought them about one-third of the way down the chest. The -remainder was in three portions. In the middle was a large oak box, -that exactly fitted from front to back, and left about a fifth of the -chest on each side. These fifths were filled with solid gold and silver -bars, packed like bricks to fill every crevice. Their total value was -four or five times that of the gold pieces in the bags.</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray and Ian lifted out the oak box and it was found to -contain a collection composed of the choicest examples of art in -metal work that any of them had ever seen in their lives. There were -large mazers and other cups, a wonderful nef, and skilfully wrought -platters. There were daggers and hunting horns and belts. There -were chatelaines and embracelets and diadems. Then in a smaller -<a name="receptacle" id="receptacle"></a><ins title="Original has 'receptable'">receptacle</ins> were lesser things, such as rings, pendants, -necklaces, chains, clasps and buckles. But finely jewelled as many of -them were, it was the supreme art of the designs and the craftsmanship -of their execution that was their main attraction.</p> - -<p>Little Aline was too overcome to speak. At last she recovered herself -sufficiently to say;—“And are all of these things mine?”</p> - -<p>“Of course they are,” said Master Richard, “and I do not know any one -more worthy of them.”</p> - -<p>She was silent for some time and then said,—“Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">406</a></span> we cannot leave -them all lying round. I must put everything back.”</p> - -<p>The others helped and, although every one kept commenting on the lovely -things and the strange experience, Aline never said a word all the -time. It was clear that she was thinking hard and that the putting -back of the things was only to give her an opportunity to settle her -thoughts.</p> - -<p>When they had finished they all stood up.</p> - -<p>“Now we can save the Ochil estates,” said Aline triumphantly. “Ian, I -give you half the gold and silver and one of the swords, and you are -to have the other half, Audry darling, and Cousin Richard is to have -Holwick Hall as long as he lives and the other sword. Then everybody is -to have some nice presents from the trays and the box, Audry and Cousin -Richard, and Joan and Mistress Mowbray and all the others, and Ian is -to have the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Impossible,” said Ian.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” said Master Richard.</p> - -<p>“Absurd,” said Audry.</p> - -<p>“I absolutely mean what I say,” said Aline.</p> - -<p>“But you have left nothing for yourself,” objected Audry.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I shall have Holwick when I am old and no longer able to do -anything; and if you are not married we can live together.”</p> - -<p>“My little maiden must not be foolish,” said Ian. “I think you are -quite right to let Audry have half, unless you let Cousin Richard have -the use of it first, for it would go to Audry, and I am sure you are -right about Holwick; but my estates have nothing to do with you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">407</a></span> sweet -child. Besides how are you going to live until you are too old to do -anything? You cannot go a begging, princess, and some one would have to -take care of you.”</p> - -<p>“O dear, I had not thought about that. Yes, I suppose I should need -some one to look after me.”</p> - -<p>“I will look after you, little heart, if Cousin Richard will let me,” -said Ian softly.</p> - -<p>Richard Mowbray laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I agree,” -he said.</p> - -<p>Aline put up her hands and drew down Ian’s face till their lips met. -A look of happy content shone in her eyes. “Then I shall be well -protected,” she said.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">My dear Children:</span></p> - -<p>The time has now come to say good-bye, both to you and Aline; but -it might interest you to know that I read the story to a little -girl before it was quite finished and asked her if there was -anything she would like to suggest. “Yes,” she said, “a birthday -party.”</p> - -<p>Now a sixteenth century birthday party was rather a difficulty -as I never saw one described; but then there were so many -difficulties of that sort. People in those days, for instance, -thought that shaking hands was a much warmer sign of affection -than kissing. You probably know that in France men still kiss -each other at the railway station. But that would not do for my -story. So, as in the case of language, I have modernized to suit -my purpose. When, therefore, your learned uncle tells you that -the story is all wrong and that they did not fence with helmets -and that the curtsey was not invented till much later and that -the library is far too big and so on; you just tell him to write -you a sixteenth century story and then you send it to me, and we -will see how he gets along.</p> - -<p>If any of you would write to me and tell me what you would -like altered or what else you would like put in, I should be -delighted. The story is only written to please you and I wish I -could see you and tell it to you myself. Also you might let me -know what you think ought to happen to Aline and then, if you -like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">408</a></span> the story, I will write you a sequel. But you must tell me -how old you are, that is a very important point.</p> - -<p>With best wishes from Avis and myself;—now do not tell me that -you do not know who Avis is,—look at the dedication and the -first chapter and guess.</p> - -<p class="center mb0">Yours aff’ly,</p> -<p class="center pl10 mt0"><span class="smcap">Ian B. Stoughton Holborn</span>.</p> - -<p class="noi mb0">1735 Grand Central Terminal,<br /> -<span class="pl3">New York City.</span></p> -<p class="noi mt0">(or, in Britain, Merton College, Oxford).</p> -</blockquote> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<div class="tn"> -<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p>The following are changes known to have been made to the text as it appears -in the original publication:</p> - -<ul class="nobullet"> -<li><ul><li>Page 65<br /> -new art of swordmanship <i>changed to</i><br /> -new art of <a href="#swordsmanship">swordsmanship</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 91<br /> -The vinter’s daughter <i>changed to</i><br /> -The <a href="#vintners">vintner’s</a> daughter</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 101<br /> -chance in that abode.’” <i>changed to</i><br /> -chance in that <a href="#aline">abode.’</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 135<br /> -glancing at Aline. There will be <i>changed to</i><br /> -glancing at Aline. <a href="#quote">“There</a> will be</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 137<br /> -had befallen her that night. <i>changed to</i><br /> -had befallen her that <a href="#quote2">night.”</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 147<br /> -some of Aisop <i>changed to</i><br /> -some of <a href="#Aesop">Aesop</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 182<br /> -“talium enim est regnum dei” <i>changed to</i><br /> -“talium enim est regnum <a href="#comma2">dei,”</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 248<br /> -brushed passed him as she spoke <i>changed to</i><br /> -brushed <a href="#past">passed</a> him as she spoke</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 288<br /> -and the seventh day from now.” <i>changed to</i><br /> -and the seventh day from <a href="#quote4">now.</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 376<br /> -gift of love,’ he read. Pray God _changed to_ -gift of <a href="#love">love,’”</a> he read. <a href="#pray">“Pray</a> God</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 386<br /> -gently on a mattress <i>changed to</i><br /> -gently on a <a href="#mattrass">mattrass</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 390<br /> -What I did was nothing” he said <i>changed to</i><br /> -What I did was <a href="#comma3">nothing,</a>” he said</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 392<br /> -But listen to this: ‘Exactly<br /> -But listen to this: <a href="#quote5">Exactly</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 405<br /> -in a smaller receptable<br /> -in a smaller <a href="#receptacle">receptacle</a></li></ul></li> -</ul> -</div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Child of the Moat, by Ian B. 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