Family Column.
LOST SIK MASSINGBEKD. CHAPrEE V.— THE STATE BHDROOIt. Marmaduke had scarcely concluded his narration, when steps were heard in the passage. I dare say I turned pale at the thought of seeing the man of whom I had just heard such frightful tilings, for my com.panion observed, as if to reassure me: 'Itj is only Mr. Long.' •Are you quite sure ?' said I. Marmaduke smiled sadly. •Do you think that I do not know my uncle's step ? I should recognise it among a score of others. If he overtook me iu a crowded street, I should feel that he was coming, and shudder as he passed beside ( me — — Pray, come iu, sir.' i "Well, cried my tutor, entering, radiant with his good news, ' no more moping at home, my lads ; you are to be henceforth ■ cavaliers —you are to scour the country. : Boot and saddle !— boot and saddle ! Your uncle will not trust me to get you a steed, Marmaduke; there are none good enough for you, it seems at Crittenden ; he is going to send to London for an. animal worthy of , you. But never mind, Peter ; you shall have the best mount that can be had in j JMEidsliire, and. we will pit the country nag ] against the town.' j My tutor's voice revived me like a cordial ; , after the morbid horrors I had been listen- , ing to, his cheery talk was inexpressibly j grateful, as the dawn and ordinary sounds j of waking-life are welcome to oue who has , suffered from a nightmare. - j ' I was just about to shew Meredith the j Hall,' said Marmaduke. j ' Well, it is time that we should be at our work, like good boys,' observed Mr. Long, consulting his watch ; but still, for one ; morning it does not matter, if you would i like to stay, Peter.' _ j I would rather go home, Sir,' cried I, with involuntary eagerness. I was sorry the ! next moment, even before I saw the pained expression of my young companion. * He has had enough of Fairburn Hull already,' said he bitterly. Then his face i softened sadly, as though he would have Baid : 'Am I not therefore to be pitied, who pass every day and night under this accursed roof?' ' Come, exclaimed Mr. Long gaily, ' I do not believe Mr. Meredith in this new-born devotion to your books. Let us go over the house first. I will accompany you as cicerouo, for I once knew every hole and corner of it— a great deal better, I will venture, to affirm, than the heir himself here. With these words, he led the way into the passage.' ' Every chamber on this floor is the facsimile of its neighbour,' said Marmaduke : since you have seen mine, you have seen all — an immense bed, apiece of carpet islanded amid a black sea of oak, a cupboard or two j large enough to live in, and shepherdesses, ■with swains in ruffles, occupying the walls.' There was indeed no appreciable difference in any of the rooms, e-xcept with regard to their aspect. ' When first I came to , Fair- 1 burn, I slept here,' continued Marmaduke, as we entei'ed an apartment looking to vhe norths and had that long illness which you doubtless remember, sir. Heavens, what i dreams I have had in this room ! I have: i seen people standing by my bedside as clearly as I see you now. They called me delirious, but I believe I was stark mad.' : ' I remember it well,' said Mr. Long/ ' although I did not recollect that you occupied this room. How was it that you came to j change your quarters ?' * Oh, the doctor recommended the removal very strongly. Sir Massiugberd said it was all nonsense about the look-out from my window, and that the north was as bad as the east for a bo3 r in a fever ; but ho was obliged to give way. And I certainly benefitted by the change. The Park is a much more cheerful sight than that forest of firs, and one is glad to see the sun, even when one cannot get out of doors. At all events, I had no such evil dreams.' 'Yet this is what always used to be held the state chamber, 1 replied my tutor. 1 Charles I. occupied that bed while ho was yet king ; and before your ancestor, Sir Hugh, turnedJPuritan — a part he was very unfitted to play — it is said he used to swear through his nose. Peter the Great, too, is said to have passed a night here. Your dreams, therefore, should havo been historical and noteworthy. I forget which of these smiling Phyllises is so complaisant as to make way when you would leave the room without using the door.' Two full-length fomalo portraits were painted in panel, one on either side of the huge chimney-piece ; a circlet of roses carved in oak surrounded each by way of frame. Mr. Long advanced towards the one on the right, and touched the bofcfco?n rose ,• it did not move. He went to the other, and did likewise ; the rose revolved in his fingers, and presently, with a creak and a groan, the whole picture slid sideways over the wall, disclosing a narrow flight of wooden stairs. ' That is charming,' cried I ; ' that is the Mysteries of Udolpho realised. Where does it lead to, Marmaduke?' There was no answer. Mr. Long and I looked round simultaneously. The lad was ghastly pale. He stared into the dusty, gaping aperture, as though it had been a grave's mouth. ' I do not know,' he gasped with difficulty. ' Not know?' cried my tutor. 'Do you mean to say that you have never been told of Jacob's Ladder ? The foot of it is in the third book-case on the left of the library door ; the spring is somewhere iu the index to Josc])hus. It is evident you never attempted to take down that interesting work, which in this case is solid wood. The idea of your not knowing that ! And yet Sir Massingberd is so reticent ; and, with the exception of Gilmore, the butler, I daresay nobody does know it now. It is twenty years ago since I made Phyllis move aside, to the astonishment of Mr. Clint, who came down here on business with poor Sir Wentworth. I daresay nobody has moved her since.' • ( Yes, yea,' cried Marmaduke passionately ; 'my uncle has moved her. These visions were not dreams. I see it all now. Ho wanted to frighten me to death, or to make me .mad. When I knew the door was fast locked, he would come and stand by my bedside, and stare at me. Cruel, cruel coward J' ' Hush, hush, Marmaduke ; this is monstrous — this is impossible !' cried Mr. Long, endeavoring to pacify the boy, who was rocking himself to and fro in an agony of distress
and rage. ' Sec how you tcrify Peter ! Bo calm, for Heaven's sake ! Your uncle will i bear you presently, and you know how be bates to be disturbed.' At the mention of bis uncle, Marmaduke subdued his cries by a great effort, but be still sobbed and panted, as if for breath. • Ob,' moaned he, ' consider bow I came here from my dead mother's arms to this man's bouse — my only living relative, my father's brother — and was taken ill here, a mere child; then this wretch, this demon, my host, my Oh Mr. Long, could you conceive it even of a Heath ? He camo up to my room by that secret way, and stood without speaking by my pillow, while I lay speechless, powerless, imagining myself to be out of my mind !' ' I do remember now,' said my tutor gravely, 'how you harped upon that theme of your evil dreams, and how the doctor thought you were in reality losing your reason. Let us bo thankful, however, that | you were preserved from so sad a fate ; you are no longer a child now ; Sir Massingbcrd can frighten you no more, even if he had the wish. It was a wicked, hateful act, what- : ever was his motive. But let us forget it. In a few years, you will be of age ; then you ' will leave the Hall ; and in the meantime your uncle will annoy you no more. It will be his interest to make a friend of you. Even now, you see, he provides you with the means of enjoyment. You will ride out I with your friend whenever you please ; and ' I will take measures, so that you shall bo j more with us at the .Rectory, and less at this melancholy place, which is totally unfit for J you. Mr. Clint shall be spoken with, if necessary. Yes, yes,' added Mr. Long, reversing the ro3e, and thereby replacing 1 the shepherdess, but quito unaware' that he ! was still speaking aloud, ' there must be a i limit to the power of such a guardian ; the j Chancellor shall interfere, and Sir Masaingberd be taught ' 'Nay, sir,' cried Marmaduke in turn ; ' for Heaven's sake, let no complaint be made j against my uncle upon my account ; perhaps, I as you say, I may now meet with better treatment. I will be patient. Say -nothing of this, I pray you, Meredith. Mr. Long, you know ' ' Yes, I know all,' interrupted my tutor with excitement. 'You have a friend in me, Marmaduke, remember, who will 'stick by you. I have shut my eyes and my ears long enough, and perhaps too long. If things get worse with you, my lad, do not forget that you have a home at the Rectory. Once there, you will not return to this house acain. I will give evidence myself; I will ' ' Thank you, thank you,' replied Marmaduke hurriedly. ' All will now be well, doubtless ; but my uncle will wonder at your long delay — he will suspect something. ! I think it will be better if you left.' He led the way down the great staircase, throwing an involuntary glance over his ! shoulder, as we crossed the mouth of the dark passage leading to the baronet's room. ' This is a wretched welcome, Meredith ; some day, perhaps, I may take your hands j ai; this Hall door under different circumstances. Good-bye, good-bye.' And so we parted, between the two grim griffins. ' Peter,' said my tutor gravely, as we went our way, ' whatever 3 r ou may think of what has passed to-day, say nothing. lam not so ignorant of the wrongs of that poor boy as I appear to bo ; but there is nothing for it but patience ? CHAPrER VI. —HEAD OVER HEELS. I obeyed my tutor and my friend in keeping all I knew regarding Sir Massingberd to myself; but the knowledge weighed heavily upon my spirits for Beveral day a. Soon, however, my mind recovered its youthful elasticity. I begin to think that Marmaduke's morbid disposition had perhaps exaggerated matters ; that the baronet was not so black as painted ; that my friend would soon be his own master ; and, in short, I laid all that flattering unction to my soul which is so abundant in the case of the misfortunes of others, and so difficult to be procured when the calamity is our own. Moreover, in a few days I was in possession of an excellent horse, and there is nothing more antagonistic to melancholy — especially whon it is vicarious — as a good gallop. Nay, more, after a little, Marmaduke had ahoraoalso. He came to call for me, that we should go out for a ride together the 'first day, and I shall not easily forget it. How handsome and happy he looked ! as if the high-con-ditioned animal he bestrode had imparted to him some of his own fire and freedom, he wore scarcely any trace of his habitual depression. ' This is our 4th of July/ said he gaily; 'my day of independence, as the rebels say !' It happened to be his birthday also — be was seventeen — so that all conspired to make it a gala-day. My tutor, who was a judge of horseflesh, examined the new steed with great attention. eHe is superb,' said he, ' and you sit him, Marmaduke, considering your scanty experience, like a young centaur. No one could imagine that your equestrianism had beeu heretofore limited to a keeper's pony ; and, inoroover, Oliver's ponies arc not apt to be very high-couraged. But what a tight curb has this Bucephalus ! Ho will not give you much trouble to hold him. So-ho, so-ho, my nag ! Are you a hypocrite, then, that you need be so alarmed at beiug inspected ?' The sleek bay plunged and curvetted, so that my own sober brown began to dance in rivalry. 'By the by,' continued Mr. Long, as though a sudden thought had struck him, ' I have occasion to visit Mr. Jervis of the farm at Stapcllmrst this day week : if it is the aanie to you, lcf^us go there to-day ; it will be an object for your ride, while I shall have the pleasure of your company.' In a few minutes, my tutor's old white marc was brought round to the Rectory door by the gardener, who was groom and butler also, and we set out together at a foot's pace. Mr. Long never took his eyes off the bay, and therefore- did not observe Sir Massingberd, who, with his huge arms resting on a gate by tho roadside, watched us pass with a grim smile. 'Well, parson,' exc[aimed he— and at the sound of his voico I perceived my tutor start in his saddle—' whafcthiulc you of ! the little Londoner ?' I ' I cannot say at present, Sir Massingberd, 1 returned my tutor with deliberation. 'Ho is a beauty to look at ; and if ho has no vice, is a bargain at five-and-thirty pounds.' ' Yice, why should he have a vice, man ? A child might ride him for that matter. I ' got him with tho best of characters. But | you'll never teach those lads to ride if you j are always at their stirrup-leather, like this. ■ Let them ride alone, and race together. Don't treat them like a brace of mollycoddles. Why, at their age, I could have backed any
horse in Christendom •without a saddle. I ! wonder you don't give Marmaduke a lend ing-rein.' The color which hud faded from the lad's I cheeks returned to them again at this sneer ; { but Mr. Long only remarked : " If you had had a loading-rein at seventeen, it would have been a great deal better for you,' and J j rode on without the least consciousness, as , i I believe, of having made any such obser- ! j Tation, When we had advanced about a mile, and had left the village quite behind us, my tutor expressed a wish to change horses with Marmaduke. ! j ' I want to try his paces,' said he ; and , • certainly, if he had been a horse-breaker by J J profession, he could not have taken more ! pains with the animal. He trotted, he can- j tered, he gallopped ; he took him into a field, i j and over some fences ; ho forced him by a j wind-mill in full work ; and, in short, he left , no means untried to test his temper. In tho , ' end, he expressed himself highly satisfied, j ' Iteally,' said he, ' Sir Massingberd has got | you a first- rate steed, with plenty of courage, yet without vice ; he makes me quite dissatisi fied with my poor old mare.' The next day, and the next, we rode again without my tutor ; and on the fourth day it was agreed that we should take ati expedition as far as Crittenden, some ten miles away, where Mr. Long wished us to do some ! commissions for him. By this time, Marmaduke was quito accustomed to his recent acquisition ; enjoyed the exercise greatly ; and since Sir JVlas^iagbei'd was muck engaged with his guests, passed altogether more agreeable days. On tho afternoon, in question, the Hall party were out shooting, and had taken with them all the stable domestics except a raw lad who scarcely knew how to saddle a horse. ' I cannot think what is the matter this afternoon with " Panther," ' (we so called his skittish animal), exclaimed Marmadake, as he rode up to the Rector door. ' I could scarcely get him to start from the yai*d, and ho came here mostly on his hind legs. Is there anything wrong with his girths, think you ? Ned did not know where to lay his hands on anything, and my uncle has taken William with him to " mark." ' 'Nay,' said I, 'I see nothing tho matter. We will soon take offhis superfluous energy over Crittenden Common.' ' Long, however, before we reached that spot, we had had galloping enough and to spare. .Twice had Panther fairly taken the bit between his teeth (as tho romancewriters term it, and Heaven forbid that a mere sportsman should correct them), and sped along the hard high-road at racing pace ; and twice had Marmaduke, by patience and hard-pulling, recovered tho mastery, albeit with split gloves and blistered hands. It was not enjoyment to ride in this fashion, of course, and had it not been for tile commissions which had been intrusted to us, it is probable that we should have returned home. ! It puzzled us beyond measure to account for the change of conduct in the bay. The difference was as decided as that between a high-spirited child who requires, as we say, 'careful treatment,' and a vicious dwarf; heretofore, he had been frisky, now, he was positively fiendish. Ho shied and started, not only at every object on the roadside, but beforo he arrived at them. At the end I of the high table-land which is called Crittenden Common, and descends into the quiet little market-town of the sume name, there really was something to shy at. A gipsy encampment, with fire and caldron, and tethered donkey, which had been concealed in a hollow, came suddenly into view as we cantered by ; an old crone, with a yellow handkerchief in lieu of a bonnet, and shading her beady eyes with her hand, watched with malicious enjoyment tho struggle between man and horse which her own appearance had gone far to excite. In a very few moments, Marmaduke' s already overtaxed muscles gave way, and the bay, maddened with resistance, and released from all control, rushed at headlong speed down the steep chalk-road that led by many a turn and zigzag into Crittenden. It was frightful to watch from the summit of this tamed precipice — this cliff compelled into a road — the descent of that doomed pair. No mule could be surer footed than was Panther, but tho laws of gravitation had, nevertheless, to be obeyed. At the second turning, the bay, after one vain effort to follow the winding of tho road, pitched, head first, down the grassy wall which everywhere separated tho zigzags from one another'; over and over rolled horse and rider to the hard road below, and there lay, their horrible and abnormal movements exchanged fov a stonj' quiet. I jumped offiny horse, and ran down the two steep slopes, which at another time I should have descended hand ever hand. Yet on my way I had time to think with what sorrow this news would be received at Fairburn Bectory, with what joy at the Hall ! Marmaduke's hand still held the rein, which I disentangled from it with feverish haste, lest that four-footed fiend, which snorted yet through its fiery nostrils, and glared defiance from its glazing eyes, should arise and drag the dear lad's corpse among the cruel stones. After what I had seen oi' his fall, I had scarcely a hope that he was alive. Thero was blood at his mouth, blood at his ears, blood everywhere upon the white and dazzling road. ' Marmaduke, Marmaduke,' cried I, ' speak, speak, if it be but a single word ! Great Heaven, he is dead !' (To be continued.)
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Bibliographic details
Wellington Independent, Volume XXI, Issue 2304, 2 January 1866, Page 7
Word Count
3,338Family Column. Wellington Independent, Volume XXI, Issue 2304, 2 January 1866, Page 7
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