Her voice was quiet and her bearing firm, nor was she half so agitated as her sister, a fact which Margaret was slow to understand.
"Speak fair, Dorothy," she said, as she tried to persuade herself that she had misunderstood her meaning. "None of your riddles for me. You are joking, surely."
"Nay, I am in earnest, Meg. Ask him yourself; he will tell you whether I was joking an hour ago. De la Zouch knows I would perish rather than be his countess. I told him so myself. And oh! Meg, dear, I am so happy now, for I love John Manners so very, very much."
""Tis a sad night"s work for _you_", burst out Margaret. "What right have you, prithee, to make arrangements such as these? You are to be betrothed to a brother of Sir Thomas Stanley. Edward is coming from the Isle of Man within a month to arrange it all, and a nice affair have you made it with your forwardness."
"Edward Stanley?" echoed Doll, in blank dismay.
"Yes, surely."
"Never," she replied, decisively; "I will have none of him, nor could I if I would. I am betrothed already."
"You foolish child," returned Margaret. I must rate this Master Manners for his presumption. Sir Thomas will have talked the matter over with your father ere now, as they journeyed up to London."
"It will be of no use even if he has. John Manners has my pledge, and I shall keep it with him, too."
"Tut, child, this is idle talk. By now the matter is all arranged for you, and very thankful ought you to be. If Master Manners is a gentleman----"
"He _is_ a gentleman."
"He will think no more about you, then, after he knows the facts,"
said Margaret sharply, and pa.s.sing out of the room she left Dorothy alone to her tears, while she tried to discover the happy esquire to give him a piece of her mind.
CHAPTER XIV.
AN UNPLEASANT NIGHT.
But justice though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her own cause right.
SPENSER.
When the landlord of the c.o.c.k Tavern thoughtlessly gave his prisoner into the custody of the ostler he put Edmund Wynne in the way of the only piece of good fortune which fell to his share on that unlucky day.
No sooner did the two conspirators find themselves alone than Edmund began to implore his companion to set him at liberty, offering large prospective bribes for freedom; but quickly perceiving that his keeper was inexorable, he turned his attention to the best possible provision for the safety of those who had embarked on the expedition along with him.
It was patent to both that for the meeting of Edmund"s a.s.sociates to take place, as had been arranged just previously, would now only involve them all in one common ruin; and arrangements were accordingly made for them to be warned of the danger their presence would incur.
The conference, however, was prematurely ended by the advent of the minions of the law, who, for once in a way, were prompt in the execution of their duty, and in a very short s.p.a.ce of time Edmund found himself securely lodged within the precincts of Fleet Market Gaol.
Little ceremony was shown him at his new resting-place, for no sooner had the outer doors of the prison closed upon him than he was rapidly dragged forward across the courtyard and thrust into a dimly-lighted, evil-smelling room, the very appearance of which, with its strongly-barred windows high up in the wall, and the ma.s.sive studded door which was closed and double locked upon him almost before he had entered the room, struck a feeling of shrinking terror deeply into the prisoner"s heart. He sank disconsolately down upon the cold stone bench just beside the door, and placing his elbows upon his knees, he propped his head up between his hands, and peering into the dimness bitterly bewailed his fate.
He was startled from the train of thought into which he had unconsciously fallen by hearing a sound not far from him. He raised his head and rubbed his eyes, half expecting to be confronted by a spectral visitor; but not being able to distinguish anything in the deep gloom to which his eyes were not yet accustomed, he dismissed that theory, and ascribed the noise to the rats.
"Rats, ugh!" he exclaimed, and he lowered his head down again, feeling a trifle less dejected because of the trivial interruption which had for the moment excited him, and changed his dismal channel into which his thoughts had flown.
"Who says rats?" exclaimed a voice in tremulous tones, evidently from the corner of the room.
Edmund"s head was upraised in a moment. His hair stood on end, for, as he hastily glanced around, his eye lighted upon a form enshrouded in white. He was convinced that he was at last confronted by one of the ghostly fraternity, of whose existence he was a firm believer; and hastily springing from his seat, he retreated as far as he could in the opposite direction.
To his terror the figure rose up at the same time, and advancing towards him, frantically waving its arms, and repeating the words Edmund had just uttered. He was in a frenzy of despair, and rushing to the door, as the spectre had come up to him, he had made an ineffectual effort to open it, and was busily engaged in kicking its stout timbers to attract the attention of the gaolers.
All this took but a moment, but it was a terrible time to Edmund, and he found himself, in spite of his efforts, completely nonplussed by the unearthly foe beside him.
"Rats, who says rats?" piped the figure again in its shrill, thin voice. "Where are they?"
For answer Edmund turned round, and in his desperation lunged out with his foot towards his persecutor. It struck something solid, and to Edmund"s intense relief the spectre limped away with a howl of pain just as the key turned in the lock outside.
A moment later the door swung slowly back upon its creaking hinges, admitting the gaoler, and, at the same time a flood of light, which disclosed to view the form of a haggard man writhing in pain upon the wooden bed, spa.r.s.ely covered with straw, in the very corner of the room.
"Here"s a pretty pickle," quoth the new comer, as he stood upon the threshold of the door. "Which of you made all the din? Halloa, why Peter," he added, as he stepped up to the side of the bed and gazed upon the emaciated form of an old and well-known inmate of the Hut, "what does all this portend?"
No sooner had he stepped into the room than Edmund, seeing the doorway clear, bolted out on an ill-timed venture of escape. He rushed along the pa.s.sage, hotly pursued by his custodian, and ran without interruption into the yard; but here, alas, he was at bay. It was not the same yard through which he had entered so shortly before, and he could find no way of exit. It was futile to attempt anything further, and, discovering this unwelcome fact, he pa.s.sively yielded himself up, and was rewarded for so doing by receiving sundry cuffs and jerks from his captors, who carried him straightway before the governor.
There are some people in the world who seem to have been born under a lucky star. Everything upon which their hands are laid at once turns into gold; all their ventures are successful, or if they have a slight mishap it is more than compensated for directly afterwards by a grand success. Fortune is never weary of smiling upon them; they are her prime favourites, and she marks her approval by heaping favours upon them in a most indiscriminate and prodigal manner. Upon others she continually frowns. All their efforts uniformly bring back a plentiful harvest of disappointment. Their labour is ever in vain, they are left to languish in misery and to repine over the illusion which tempted them with a feigned promise of success ever nearer and nearer to ruin.
Edmund was one of these last, and this was the more inexplicable both to himself and a certain number of his friends, inasmuch as he, being an astrologer, had discovered that he was born under a lucky star.
His interview with the governor was short, but decisive. The gaoler stated the case against him, adding to the facts here and there to embellish his story; and in a very short s.p.a.ce of time he found himself manacled with heavy chains, which fastened him down to the floor of the damp cell into which he had been thrust.
At the c.o.c.k Tavern Sir George was ill at ease when he retired to rest that night. His slumber was broken, and when he slept it was only to dream of his trial on the morrow. Hobgoblins were judges, and legions of little imps bore witness against him. Old Dame Durden rose up from her grave on purpose to bear witness against him in person, and as, in his vision, he saw her stretch out her long, bony arms towards him, he felt her cold, clammy hand upon his head, and awoke to find himself in a cold perspiration.
He attempted to quieten his fears, and tried to rea.s.sure himself, and, having succeeded in some degree in doing this, he fell asleep again.
It was a vain search for rest. This time a myriad of hostile pygmies were dragging him down into a bottomless pit. They tugged, and pushed, and danced upon his helpless body, and laughed in spiteful glee as he descended further and further into the dread abyss.
He rose at c.o.c.k-crow, unrefreshed both in body and mind, and, descending into the lower regions, he paced abstractedly through each tenantless room in turn.
He found it, however, a forlorn and cheerless way of killing the time.
Everything seemed dead; not a sign of life was visible. The rooms were desolate, and looked the worst, while the fire grate, empty save for a few dead ashes, seemed but a picture of his own misery, and instead of yielding him even a grain of comfort, its bars, appeared to grin upon him with solid defiance. Everything seemed comfortless in the extreme, and as the melancholy train of thought into which he had fallen was in no wise cheered by this manner of proceeding, he pa.s.sed into the library, which seemed least cheerless of all, and sat himself down.
Still he could not enliven himself nor shake off the gloomy feeling which had settled upon him; all around was perfectly still, and the very silence palled upon his fancy. It was, he imagined, the calm before the storm; the tempest would be raging round him soon in all its fury; and moving the empty horn cups aside--the relics of the night"s carousal--he reached down a volume from the thinly-populated bookshelf, hoping to calm his excited feelings by arousing an interest which might for a time distract his attention from the forthcoming trial. It was a book of poems, and with a contemptuous "tush!" he impatiently replaced it upon its shelf, and sank down into his seat and fell into a fitful doze, only to be tormented afresh by hosts of enemies, each of whom was eager to destroy him, while he could only look on in dismay and witness his own fall.
Sir George was no light weight, and under the pressure of his body the table was gradually pushed further and further away from the bench upon the smoothly polished boards, until at length it failed to offer him any support and he was suddenly awakened by falling heavily upon the floor.
Half dazed by the fall, and still uncertain whether he were awake or asleep, the good knight rubbed his eyes and looked around. He heaved a sigh of relief to find that he was yet alive, for he had at first imagined that the furies had succeeded in encompa.s.sing his ruin. He ran his fingers through his iron-grey locks of dishevelled hair, and comprehending that he was seated upon the floor, he made an effort to rise.
As he placed his hand upon the floor it touched something which yielded to the pressure. Involuntarily he drew it back and placed himself instinctively in an att.i.tude of defence. He hated vermin of every kind, and this he instantly resolved was a rodent of some description.
His first hurried glance showed him that he was mistaken. It was but an innocent roll of paper, and laughing at his fears, he picked it up, and placing it upon the table, regained his seat.
He turned it over, but there was no superscription on its exterior to offer any clue as to its owner, and taking it with him to the window, he pushed the lattice open and removed the shutter. The dial pointed to six, and the sun had risen. He peered closely into the roll he held in his hand, and pressing the packet slightly open, he slowly deciphered the writing. It was that of a lawyer. The first word he encountered was his own name, and brushing all scruples hastily aside, the baron burst the package open, and with little compunction sat down to peruse its contents.
It took the knight, who was no fluent scholar, some considerable time to read it through, and when, after the exercise of much patience, he had reached the end, the legal terms, which were so profusely employed, so baffled his simple understanding that he had decidedly failed to grasp its true intent. Of one thing, however, and only one, was he perfectly sure, and that was that he had come across the name of Mary Burden and Nathan Grene several times in close connection with his own; but what heightened his surprise and added to his discomfiture was that the name of Sir Ronald Bury also appeared.
In this predicament he bethought himself of seeking aid to unravel the mystery, and he hastened up to arouse his companion.