CHAPTER XLI.
Helen De La Tremblade sat alone in the priest's room; and sad and terrible were the thoughts that crossed her mind. It may seem that to have found one even out of many, though but a mere boy, sincerely attached, and willing to risk all and sacrifice all, for her happiness and deliverance, might well have brought, cheering consolation to her heart. He could have no concealed motive. He had no dark treachery to practise. There, in his young enthusiasm, he had stood before her, a friend indeed. But what was the errand on which he had been sent?--the errand which he had refused to fulfil?--To bear her poison!--to consign her to the grave at the mandate of one who had promised with specious and sweet-spoken words, to guard, protect, cherish, watch over her.--To consign her to the dark and silent grave! Such had been the command of the Marchioness de Chazeul, after having neglected, abandoned, ill-treated her.
There were glimpses of some of the darkest realities of earth breaking on the mind of one who had lived her youth as in a dream; and oh, how cold, and more cold, grew her heart, as proof after proof was given of what human beings can become, when Godless, and heartless, they give themselves up to the mastery of strong passion. It was more than even the kindness of the poor boy could compensate, though she had found some relief in every word he spoke.
She sat and gazed upon the poisoned drink, with thoughts, almost approaching to madness, flashing through her brain. She asked herself, "Shall I drink it?--Then pain, and anguish, and remorse, and shame, will be all over. I shall be delivered from all this weight, this intolerable burden. I shall be free.-They cannot say I did it.--It is no fault of mine. They sent it to me. They are murderers, not I.--Oh, how I long to be at rest!--But Rose, dear, good Rose,--I must not leave her to struggle on unaided. And yet it were a pleasant thing to die; but for the terrible world beyond the grave.--Oh no, I must not, dare not, die, with all my sins upon my head. I must have time for penitence and prayer.--The boy said he would soon be here. I will see," and opening the window, she looked down to the bottom of the deep corridor, or passage, between the château and the walls.
There was nobody there, however. All was solitary; and even on the ramparts, the scanty watch had dwindled away to nothing; every one who dared, hurrying away to witness the gay wedding of Mademoiselle d'Albret, and all making their own comments upon the decency and propriety which their noble lord and master displayed in burying his brother, and marrying his nephew on the selfsame morning.
The eye of Helen de la Tremblade ran along the wall towards the chapel, in which she had found her uncle, on her first arrival, not many hours before; and she examined every prominent point, attentively. First came a large mass of masonry containing some of the best rooms in the château, projecting from the rest of the building; then appeared a round tower with a turret fastened to its side; and then the roof of the chapel, built against the walls, was seen with part of one window, peeping out from behind the tower. But all the way down, neither on the walls, nor between them and the château, could Helen descry any one.
As her eye strayed casually, however, to some low trees and bushes, which ran down the slope in the neighbourhood of the chapel, she thought she saw something move amongst the grey branches, but could not distinguish what; and, as she was gazing more eagerly to trace the object as it proceeded, she heard high tones speaking in the adjacent room; and turned to listen. She recognized the voices of Monsieur de Liancourt and Rose d'Albret; but she could not catch the words that were uttered, though some of them were spoken loud and in apparent anger.
"He has come to take her," said Helen to herself, "and she will not go.--Oh, that I could aid her!"
Her first impulse was to approach nearer the door, in order to push back the lock with the dagger which the boy had left with her; but then she reflected, that singly, she could do nothing to prevent the Count from dragging poor Rose to the altar.
"No!" she said, re-seating herself near the window, and a look of dark and gloomy determination coming over her face. "No! I will let them take her away--and then I will confront them all.--Ay, in the hall, amidst menials and soldiers and friends; and they shall hear truth.--Hark, how loud he speaks! He is threatening her.--Poor Rose! 'Tis all silent now--she must be gone!--Hark, the door bangs to!--They have dragged her away. Now, boy, now; for I must follow soon."
She ran hastily to the window again, and gazed out. The page was not yet there; and Helen hesitated whether to wait or hurry away to the hall.
At that moment, the sound of a hunting horn reached her ear, and she looked up from the passage between the walls, on which her eyes had been bent, to the undulating country straight before her, beyond the defences of the château. There was a large party of horsemen issuing from the nearest wood, distant about half a mile; and Helen, with her quick fancy cried, "It may be De Montigni!"
But just then, from the bushes beyond the chapel, a man on foot darted forth, and ran round, as if he perceived her at the window. She instantly recognized Estoc, and stretched her head farther forward, in order that he might certainly see her. The old soldier paused immediately opposite, and came as near to the wall as he could, without losing sight of her; and then he raised his voice, and pointed with his hand to the party of horsemen--still advancing.
But the distance rendered most of his words indistinct, and Helen caught only the few last, "--The postern a little to your right--before they can arrive; for they have barred us out by the chapel," was all that she could distinguish.
"Then these are enemies coming," she thought; "and all depends upon Estoc getting in first."
She tried to make him hear in vain; her weaker voice was lost in air; but just as she was about to withdraw, force back the lock, run down and open the postern, she saw the figure of the page coming round the square tower. He had a heavy basket on his arm, and was proceeding, with his eyes cast down, to wind up, with boyish habits, a quantity of string upon a piece of wood; but Helen called aloud, "Philip! Philip!"
The boy looked up. "Run round, without a moment's delay," cried Helen, "and open the first postern to the west; show yourself beyond, and you will find Estoc.--Run, Philip, run, if you would save us all."
The boy threw down the basket, and sped forward as rapidly as possible. Helen saw the postern unlocked and pushed open; and then withdrawing from the window, she murmured, "Now then, to stop them till help arrives! I will at least do that, if it cost my life or that of others.--He said my uncle was in the room at the bottom of the great staircase. Perhaps I can set him free too;" and, hastening to the door which led out at once at the top of the stairs, she easily forced back the lock with the well-tempered blade of the boy's poniard, and threw it open. She started, however, on seeing the maid, Blanchette, straight before her; but resolved to pass at all risks, she grasped the dagger firmly in her hand, and gazed upon the girl's countenance for an instant.
It was as pale as death; but Blanchette, seeing her thus pause and look at her, exclaimed, "Pass on, Mademoiselle Helen--pass on to the hall. You may see things there that you do not expect.--I wont stop you.
"Woe to those who try!" vehemently cried Helen; and darting on without another word, she descended that flight of stairs, and passed through the corridor below. An old man met her as she went, but started back as if she had been a spectre; and Helen hurried forward, reached the foot of the great staircase, rushed towards the chamber, which the boy had mentioned as her uncle's place of confinement.
The door was locked, and the key had been taken out; the lock too was in the inside. Helen shook the door wildly, and exclaimed, "Are you there? are you there?"
"I am," replied the voice of her uncle from within. "Is that you, Helen?"
"Yes," cried the girl, "How can I let you out quickly?"
"Run up the passage," cried the priest, "and take the key out of the last door on the right hand. It fits this lock."
Helen flew rather than ran, returned with the key, unlocked the door, and threw it open.
"Quick, quick!" she cried. "There is not a minute to spare. They are now forcing her to the marriage; but I will confront them all. I will stop them or die!" and with her whole frame thrilling with excitement, her eyes flashing with unnatural light, and the wildness almost of insanity in her look, she darted away, up the great staircase, through the corridor at the top, and reached the door of the hall. Before it, stood the man Martin, who as soon as he beheld, her, exclaimed "Ah, Mademoiselle Helen! you cannot pass here."
"Stand back, or I will stab you to the heart!" exclaimed Helen, raising the dagger; and as he retreated a step to avoid the blow that seemed ready to descend, she darted forward, and, before he could stop her, was in the midst of the hall.