CHAPTER x.x.xIV.
THE OLD WOMAN WANDERS BACK AGAIN.
Old Mrs. Yates had left the railroad station two miles back, and was walking wearily along the high road toward the village, which lay, as it were, at the feet of Houghton Castle, like a spaniel crouching at the foot of its mistress. At the station and all along the road she had observed an unusual commotion. Carriages in an unprecedented number were waiting for special trains, which came in more than once that day for Houghton Castle.
All the vehicles in the neighborhood were in motion, dashing to and from the village inns, the castle, and a neighboring town, where accommodations for a great access of people could be obtained.
Hannah Yates was more than once nearly run over and driven back to the banks of the highway by those flying vehicles, where she stood half-terrified, half-curious, looking after them in wistful astonishment.
What could this tumultuous movement mean? Was it a wedding--but of whom?
A funeral--the old countess?
No, no! Destiny could not be so cruel. Besides, there was no such eager driving or smiling faces when the head of that castle was taken from its broad portals to the family vault. It must be some festival, and she was yet in time.
At an abrupt curve of the road the old woman came suddenly upon a full view of the castle. It was all ablaze with lights, and rose up from the embosoming trees like some enchanted palace upon which a tempest of stars had rained down in all their heavenly brightness. The broad facade which connected the tower was flooded with noonday light, and she could discover groups of people moving to and fro on the stone terrace in front, rendered so small by the distance that they seemed unreal and fairy-like. Down to the verge of the park and upward, curving through the woods, she could trace the chestnut avenue by wreaths of colored lanterns that blazed from tree to tree like mammoth jewels chaining them together. Now and then a carriage broke to view, sweeping along the macadamized avenue, clearly revealed by the light that fell around it.
Never in her life had the old woman seen such splendid commotion about that stately building, yet she could remember many a festive scene in its old walls, when crowned princes had been entertained there with a degree of splendor scarcely exceeded in their own palaces.
As the old woman stood gazing upon this scene, a countryman, pa.s.sing along the highway, paused near her to get a sight of the castle.
"What is going on up yonder?" inquired the woman, drawing toward him and speaking in his own broad dialect.
"What is"t at yon castle? An" who mon you be that donna know that the oud lady up at Houghton is giving a grand blow-out to her gran"child, Lord Hope"s daughter, an" to Lady Hope, as people thought she would never abide in her sight?"
"And is Lord and Lady Hope at the castle?"
"Aye, an" the young lady, too--her that the oud countess is o"er fond of; but the young "un is a right comely la.s.s, an" the oud "un might go furder and fare worse."
Mrs. Yates gathered the woolen shawl she had travelled in about her, and went hastily down the bank on which she had been standing, so excited that all the weakness of age seemed to have been suddenly swept from her.
She had intended to sleep in the village that night; now she bent her steps resolutely toward the castle.
As she came out of the chestnut avenue, keeping upon the turf and among the shadows, all of the glory of that illumination broke upon her.
The broad terrace, flooded with light--a fountain, directly in front, shooting up a column of liquid crystal thirty feet or more, where it branched off, like a tree of quivering ice swayed gracefully in the wind, and broke up in a storm of drops that rained downward, flashing and glittering through that golden atmosphere to their source again.
Above this rose those grand old towers, garlanded with colored lamps that wound in and out of the clinging ivy in great wreaths and chains of tinted fire, which harmonized with the quivering foliage, and flooded the fountain, the terrace, and all the neighboring trees with a soft atmosphere of golden green.
Here and there the gray old stonework of the towers broke through, revealing glimpses of the giant strength which lay hidden underneath; and over the right hand tower, from a flag-staff turned around and around with star-like lights, the broad, red banner, with which the Ca.r.s.ets had for centuries defied their enemies and welcomed their friends, floated slowly out upon the night wind.
Hannah Yates saw all this, and knew, by the music which thrilled the air around her, that the revel, whatever it was, had commenced; for a sound of pleasant voices and sweet laughter came through the open windows, and from the depths of the park--where an ox had been roasted whole that day, and wine and beer had flowed freely as the waters of the fountain--came subdued sounds of a waning festival, which had been given to the tenantry and villagers. The gaiety of the castle was answered back from the park, and harmonized by that of the working people who tilled all the broad lands around it.
When the old woman heard these answering sounds she felt that an heiress to all this greatness was acknowledged that night, for when lords gathered in the castle, and tenants in the park, it was usually to acknowledge the rights of a coming heir, and she could not believe that all this had been done in honor of Lady Hope.
Hannah Yates lost all the unnatural strength that had brought her among this splendor. She knew that it was scarcely possible that she could speak with Lady Ca.r.s.et that night, if she could, indeed, gain admittance to the castle; but she went around to a back entrance, and so made her way, unseen, to the tower-chamber, which opened into Lady Ca.r.s.et"s dressing-room. There she sat down and waited, hour after hour, until at last the door opened, and the old countess came in, walking feebly between two young girls, one of whom she had never seen before, but the other made the sinking heart leap in her bosom.
When the old countess entered, the lights in her room were shaded, but they struck those ma.s.ses of jewels in the snowy whiteness of her hair and upon her bosom with a brilliancy that revealed the gray pallor of that aged face with painful distinctness.
Hannah Yates arose from the shaded place in which she was sitting, and came forward to support her old mistress.
The countess looked up, and a faint smile flickered across her face.
"Ah! Yates, is it you?"
Mrs. Yates made no answer, but took that frail form in her arms and carried it to the couch.
"Take them off! take them off! They are heavy, ah, so heavy!"
The old lady put a waving hand to her head, indicating that it was the diamonds that troubled her.
Mrs. Yates, who had performed this office many a time before, unclasped the jewels and laid them on a sofa-table close by, then she removed the burning stones from that oppressed bosom, and unclasped them from the slender arms, while her mistress lay struggling for breath, with her eyes fixed on that kind old face with a look of touching helplessness.
"Give me water," she whispered.
Caroline ran for a goblet of water, and held it to those white lips. The countess drank a swallow and then called out:
"Wine! wine!"
Wine was brought, and she drank a little.
"Go, my child," she whispered, seeing how anxious and pale Clara appeared, in spite of the cloudy softness of her dress. "Go to your room and get some rest. Ah, me! how all this wearies, wearies!"
The two girls hesitated. There was something in that sweet old face that kept them spellbound. The old lady saw it, and reaching forth her hand, drew them, one after the other, down to her lips, and kissed them.
"Good-night, good-night!"
How softly those gentle words fell from her lips. With what yearning fondness her eyes followed those young creatures as they went reluctantly from the room, looking back in wistful sorrow, as they left her in the care of Yates.
CHAPTER x.x.xV.
LADY HOPE IN THE CASTLE.
Lady Clara had been dancing, talking and receiving such homage as would have satisfied the ambition of a princess. She had managed to s.n.a.t.c.h time to exchange many a sweet word and bright look with her lover, and would have been happy in delicious weariness, but for the sudden indisposition which had fallen upon her grandmother. As it was she could hardly realize anything, but gave way to intense weariness, and almost fell asleep as Margaret was undressing her.
But Caroline had been alone all the evening, within hearing of the laughter, the music, and feeling the very tread of the dancers in every nerve. She was young, ardent, and naturally felt a craving wish for the amus.e.m.e.nt she had resolutely denied herself; now, less than ever, could she feel a desire for sleep. Instead of seeking her room she wandered off to a wing of the castle, in which the picture gallery stretched its silent range of dead shadows, and tried to throw off the unaccountable excitement that possessed her, by walking up and down the long gallery.
The late moon was shining through the windows, and a crowd of dimly outlined figures, in armor or sweeping garments, looked down upon her from the walls.
Why this strange spirit of unrest had sent her to that gallery she could not have told, but it was there still, urging her on and on, she could not tell where, but walked swiftly up and down, up and down, as if striving to weary herself in a desire for the slumber that seemed to have fallen upon every human being in the castle.