No, he would not be the first jealous husband who had taken revenge for his wrongs; he had loved her, and been all that it was his duty to be; but he had been betrayed, tricked, and cheated by the false-hearted woman whom he thought he had won. Such a proceeding would be but an act of justice; but the law said such acts should be done by the law alone-- that man, however injured, should not arrogate to himself the right to punish, hence it must be done secretly, by some cunning device that should blind men"s eyes to the truth, and while amply bringing down retribution on the heads of the guilty, his honour should be unstained, the family shield untarnished.
But would not such a step be cold, blackhearted, premeditated murder?
The question seemed to flash across his brain as if prompted by some better angel.
No: only justice, was whispered again to his ear--only justice, and then he would be at rest. It was not right that he should die, but the destroyer of his happiness; and then his mind would be at ease--there would be peace for him for many years to come.
He smiled now: it was like comfort in a dire hour of need; and when the upbraidings of conscience would have made themselves heard, they were crushed down and stifled; for Sir Murray Gernon had been keeping his house swept and garnished for the reception of the wicked spirits, and they had now fully seized upon the offered abode. He smiled, for he thought that he now saw a way out of his difficulties, and that he had but to design some means for removing his false wife from his path to commence a new life.
How should it be? he thought. Should he contrive a boating party upon the great lake? Boats had before now been upset, and their occupants drowned. Such accidents were not at all uncommon. Or there might be some terrible catastrophe with the spirited horses of the carriage; the part of the Castle where her ladyship slept might catch fire at a time when a hampered lock and fastened window precluded escape; or, better still, there was poison!
The evil spirit must at that time have had full possession of the citadel, for it was with a baleful glare in his eyes that Sir Murray Gernon strode up and down his room, stepping softly, as if fearing to interrupt the current of his thoughts--thoughts that, in his madness, seemed to refresh the thirsty aridity of his soul. After all these months of misery, had at last, then, come the solution of his difficulty? and he laughed--and laughed savagely--as he sat down once more to plan.
Mercy? What had he to do with mercy? What mercy had they had upon his life? Had they not blighted it when he was a calm, trusting, loving man, searing his spirit with something more burning and corroding than the hottest iron--the sharpest acid? Let them seek for mercy elsewhere: his duty was to dispense justice, and he would be just!
Who could gainsay it? Was it not written in the Book that the punishment for the crime was death--that the sinners should be stoned with stones until they died? Not that he would stone them: his should be a quiet, insidious vengeance--one that the world should not suspect, and he would plot it out in time.
But what if she were, after all, innocent?
He tore that thought from his heart, accusing himself of cowardice, and of seeking a way out of what would be the path to a new life. No; there was no innocence there. His would be a crusade against guilt; and he vowed a fearful vow that he would carry out his vengeance to the end.
Should it be by poison?
"Tap! tap! tap!" Three distinct, sharp touches as of a nail upon the window-pane made Sir Murray start, shivering, from his guilty reverie.
What was that? Some ghostly warning for or against his plots?--or was he so distempered by his broodings that this was but the coining of imagination?
"_Tap! tap! tap_!"
There it was again, and for a moment a strange sense of terror pervaded him, and he could not stir. But only for a moment; the next minute a feeling of grim satisfaction prevailed. This, then, was to be a night of enlightenment--here was a new revelation--this, then, was the means of communication? Evidently some mistake of the bearer, and he had but to go to the window, stretch forth his hand, and take a letter; or--the thought sent a thrill through him as he stepped forward--was it the keeping of an a.s.signation? The window was many feet above the ground, and if he dashed back the ladder--
He paused, for there was the slight darkening of the blind as if a shadow were pa.s.sing over it, and now, half-mad with rage, Sir Murray Gernon felt that all his suspicions were confirmed, as, springing forward, he tore the blind aside, just as again, loudly and distinctly, came the blows upon the gla.s.s.
End of Volume I.
Book 1, Chapter XXVI.
NOCTURNAL.
"Perhaps, after all, it"s just as weel that he did not come," mused Alexander McCray, as he stood one morning upon the long wooden bridge which connected, at the narrowest part, the two sh.o.r.es of the fine piece of water lying between the park of Merland Castle and the pleasure-grounds. He was leaning over the rail, and gazing down into the clear depths below, where, screened by the broad leaves of the water-lilies, which here and there bore some sweet white chalice, the huge carp were floating lazily, now and then giving a flip with their broad tails to send themselves a few feet through the limpid medium in which they dwelt.
"Perhaps, after all, it"s just as weel that he did not come any more, but if he had, I would have pitched him in here as freely as have looked at him, and he wouldn"t have hurt neither--a bad chiel. Them that"s born to be hanged will never be drowned, and he"ll come to the gallows sure enough, and deserves it, too, for ill-using that poor bairn as he did."
"Weel, this winna do," he said, starting from his reverie, and shouldering the broom with which he had been sweeping the bridge. "I"ll just e"en go and do the paths under the bedroom windows; the la.s.sie might happen to give a look out."
The gardener walked on, thoughtfully gazing up at the windows, and thinking the while of the nights when he had watchfully made his way, stealthy as a burglar, from bush to bush, or crouched beneath the shrubs. Few nights had pa.s.sed without his seeing Jane Barker"s light extinguished, but there had been no further visit from John Gurdon.
"He didn"t like the flat of my spade," said McCray, with a grin, and this seemed to be the case--the ex-butler never from that night having been heard of. Still, more now from habit than anything, the gardener continued his nocturnal rounds, telling himself that he could not sleep without one peep at the la.s.sie"s window before going to bed.
But Alexander McCray seemed to make but little progress in his love affairs. Whenever he met Jane she had always a pleasant smile for him, but he knew in his heart that it was not the smile he wished to see.
"But bide a wee," he said. "Her puir heart"s sair. Wait awhile and it will all come reet."
The gardener was favoured that morning, for as he applied his broom lightly here and there to the wandering leaves, the early ones of autumn, he heard a window, above his head, thrown open, and as he looked up, there was Jane leaning out, ready to smile and nod down to him.
"Company coming, la.s.sie?" said McCray, leaning upon his broom.
"Company? No, Mr McCray," said Jane; "why did you think so?"
"Because ye"re getting ready the best bedroom," said the gardener.
"Oh dear, no," said Jane; "we shall never have company here again, I think. I"m only having this put ready for Sir Murray himself, because some of the old plaster ceiling of his own room"s come down."
"Puir lad! he looks bad," said McCray.
"And serve him right, too," said Jane, defiantly. "I haven"t patience with him."
"Nay, la.s.sie, perhaps not," said McCray. "But ye"ve plenty of patience with them as is waur."
"Please don"t talk about that," said Jane, pleadingly.
"Nay, la.s.sie, then I winna," said McCray, sadly; "but be patient mysel", if it"s for twenty long years ere ye turn to me."
Jane leaned out, giving the gardener one long earnest gaze, such a one as made his heart beat more freely, but the coming steps of some one along a neighbouring path sent Jane to her work, and McCray"s broom rustling over gravel and leaf.
Before many seconds had pa.s.sed Lady Gernon came by, very pale and thoughtful. She had a basket in her hand, and, evidently bent upon some expedition, she made her way through the ring fence, and away across the park, neither looking to the right nor left.
"Siller and t.i.tles are nice things," mused McCray; "but they don"t seem to make yon puir creature happy."
McCray swept as he thought, and thought as he swept. Jane did not again appear at the window, and if she had done so, the opening of one in the lower range would have kept him from speaking to her, while, as he swept on and on, hunting out errant leaves from the hiding-places where they were waiting for a bit of fun with the wind, he became conscious of the dark, lowering face of Sir Murray, apparently watching the progress of his lady from the side of the house where he now was.
"He"s a puir, miserable sort of chiel," muttered the gardener; "he seems to want a rousing up. It"s my belief that a few hours" trenching a day wi" a good broad spade wad do him a world of good. He eats too much, and he drinks too much; but I"m sorry for him, puir lad--I"m sorry for him!"
That night Alexander McCray sat in his little room, thoroughly enjoying himself, for he was so elated with the glance Jane had that morning bestowed upon him, that he had treated himself to a pipe and a small tumbler of whisky and water, over which he sat smiling and happy, for it struck him that he had at last got in the thin edge of the wedge, and that the future would all be plain sailing.
"And she"s as good a woman as ever the sun shone on," said Sandy at last, as, after draining the last drop from his tumbler of whisky and water, and trying in vain to ignite the ashes at the bottom of his pipe, he tapped the bowl upon the bar, and then stood up to think.
Should he?--shouldn"t he? The night was dark and gusty, and he had sat thinking till it was long past twelve. There was nothing to go for, and the la.s.sie"s light might be out, and she fast asleep in bed long enough before; but then he would have the satisfaction of knowing that all was right, and for months past now he had not missed a night. He did not think he would go, though, for it was evident now that Jane was beginning to think a little of his words, and no doubt matters would soon brighten up and be settled. No, he would not go to-night--there was no need; and upon the strength of that resolution he took off his coat, and methodically hung it behind the door. Then out came his snuff-box, when a pinch or two seemed to drive away the happy ease engendered by the whisky and water, clearing his brain, and forcing him to think of the realities of life.
"No," he thought now, "it would not be right to give up what he had taught himself was a duty. How did he know but what, after all, that John Gurdon might come back that very night, and put back in a few moments what it had taken him months to erase?"
"I"ll go," said Sandy, "if its only for the name of the thing. I mean to win the la.s.sie if leaving no stone unturned will do it; and now, here"s a little wee bit of crag lying in my way, and I"m too idle to touch it. Sandy McCray, take your cap, mon, and go and do your duty.
It"s the little tiny cracks that open out into big splits, so stop them up when they"re small. Keep your trees pruned back, my lad, or they"ll grow wild and ragged; and whenever ye feel a weed coming up in your nature, pull him up direct. This bit of wanting to stop away is a weed, lad, so pull it up at once."
Sandy McCray must have taken it out by the very roots, for the next minute he had closed his door, and was stealthily walking over the gra.s.s towards the pleasure-grounds.
There was not a step of the way that was not familiar, and on the darkest night he could have avoided every flower-bed, as if by instinct, or even have made his way blindfold; hence he had soon crossed the bridge, and walked softly on towards the great lawn, noting, as he went, that there was not a single light visible in the great mansion.
"I"ll just go the length of the place, and then stop for a moment by the la.s.sie"s window, and home again," muttered McCray, and then he stopped short, for a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a voice whispered in his ear: