CHAPTER XIX.
"It is hopeless," said the Duke of Norfolk, sadly, as he stood by the side of the bed on which they had laid the body of Henry Woodhall, and let the cold hand, which he had taken in his own, sink slowly down by the dead man's side.
"Quite hopeless, I fear, your grace," replied a surgeon, who stood on the other side. "The sword, I suspect, has passed right through his heart."
"Did not some one say that Mr. Robert Woodhall is still in the house?" inquired the duke; "why is he not here? Has any one told him?"
"He knows it, your grace," answered one of his servants, who had aided to bear in the body; "his own servant went up to inform him; I saw him pass that way in haste."
"Has any one seen Mr. Ralph Woodhall?" inquired the duke; but no one replied; and he sent up to Ralph's room to ascertain if he had returned.
In a moment or two the messenger appeared again, saying, "He is not there, your grace. His servant says that he went away this morning with Lady Danvers, and he has not yet returned."
The duke mused thoughtfully, and then made inquiries as to whether the wilderness and the grounds adjacent had been searched, observing, at the same time, "This poor youth has evidently fallen in a duel, for when he went away this morning he concealed his intention of coming back. Nevertheless, it is right we should know his opponent, that we may ascertain if the circumstances of the combat were all fair."
"The poor young gentleman's servant is below, your grace," said the chamberlain, "but I would not let him come up till I had your commands."
"Bring him here--bring him hither at once," said the duke; "perhaps he can throw some light on this sad affair."
The man was immediately brought into the room, a tall, stout, fresh-colored, good-looking fellow; but he turned ashy pale when his eye fell upon the breathless form of his master; and, without noticing any one in the room, he advanced to the bedside, while the tears rose thick in his eyes, exclaiming, "Alas! alas! poor Master Henry! a better gentleman did not live. Little did I think, when you told me to give the letter early to-morrow, what you were going to do to-night, or I would have stopped it one way or another. But your father will have vengeance upon him who killed you, if it cost him his heart's blood, or I don't know him."
"Of what letter do you speak, my good friend?" asked the duke; "is it one from this poor young gentleman to his father?"
"No, your grace," replied the man, drawing forth a letter from his pocket, but apparently hesitating as to whether he should deliver it, "I am to give it to your grace to-morrow."
"Give it to me," said the duke, in a tone of authority; "no time like the present;" and, taking the letter, he opened it at once. The contents were as follows:
"My Lord Duke,
"A quarrel having taken place between myself and my cousin, Mr. Ralph Woodhall, which we are to void to-night, in the manner which befits gentlemen of our station, and as the issue of such encounters is always uncertain, I write you these few lines, to be delivered in case matters should go unfavorably with myself. Although I think he has behaved ill in some affairs of domestic concern, and has certainly caused great pain and uneasiness in my family, for which I have demanded satisfaction this night, I hold Ralph to be a man of honor; and I beg to inform you that the challenge was given by myself, in such terms that he could not refuse to accept it; that I appointed the meeting to take place by moonlight, in order to avoid the eyes which I had reason to believe were upon us; and that it was at my express desire that no witnesses or seconds were present. I say this, lest, from the above circumstances, some undeserved imputation should fall upon the character of my cousin. From my knowledge of him, during many years, you may rest assured, whatever is the result, that all has passed honorably and fairly between us; and, so long as I have life, I beg you, my lord duke, to believe me, your grace's most faithful and obedient servant, Henry Woodhall."
The duke mused much over this letter, and hesitated, in some degree, how he should act. He doubted not, from the warm and impetuous temper of Lord Woodhall, that the servant's words would prove prophetic, and that the old nobleman would suffer nothing to stand in the way of his vengeance.
"I must have time for thought," he said to himself. "This youth, Ralph, has given his fair guardian the slip, it seems. Well, I can not blame him; I should most likely have done the same myself in his circumstances. He should have stayed, however, to confront what he has done--and yet, perhaps not. It is better as it is. His presence would have been very embarrassing."
As he thus thought, with his eyes fixed upon the door, Robert Woodhall suddenly entered the room, and the duke, though not a very acute man, could not help remarking that a sudden change came upon the young man's countenance even as he passed the threshold. The expression of his face, at the moment he pushed the door open, was any thing but one of dissatisfaction; there was even a faint smile upon his lip, although his face was pale enough. But a look of deep sadness was assumed in a moment; and, advancing to his noble host, he first apologized, in good set form, for not having come sooner, alleging that he had been partly undressed when the news arrived, which, the reader knows, was false.
The duke replied by pointing to the corpse, and saying, somewhat stiffly, "This is a sad sight, sir; I hope you have had no share in urging this quarrel forward, and think it might have been better if you had taken means to prevent its fatal termination. By good advice, such matters are sometimes obviated."
"Ah! poor Henry!" cried Robert, with a look at the dead body, and a shudder, which was natural enough; "I do assure your grace that I had nothing to do with this squabble at all. Henry wrote the challenge with his own hand; I did not even bear it to my cousin Ralph; and surely a man of honor like yourself would not have me betray a secret intrusted in full confidence to my keeping."
"And yet," said the duke, sternly, "at the very moment when your two near relations were about to shed each other's blood, you were undressing to go to bed!"
Robert colored whether he would or not; but he excused himself by another lie.
"I did not know the precise hour, my lord duke," he answered; "Henry only gave me half his confidence. He would not even leave a letter, which he wrote to your grace, to my care. He acted in every thing for himself."
"Perhaps he did right," replied the duke, somewhat bitterly, for there was that in the young man's conduct and demeanor which did not please him--nay, which excited suspicions, just in themselves, though not very definite.
"I think it will be better, Mr. Woodhall." he continued, "for you to mount on horseback, as early as may be to-morrow morning, and break the tidings of this unfortunate affair to poor Lord Woodhall."
"I will go at once, my lord duke," replied Robert.
"That is needless," replied the duke, in a grave, melancholy tone; "you would but break in upon his rest. Do not rob an aged man of one night of calm repose that he can enjoy; do not add more hours of bitterness to the many bitter hours he must endure. I will write to him myself, by your hands, and you shall have the letter by the gray of the dawn to-morrow. That will be time enough."
"But will your grace take no means to cause the apprehension of the murderer?" demanded Robert Woodhall, with a look of well-assumed surprise.
"Murderer!" said the duke; "do you mean your cousin, sir?"
"He was my cousin, sir," replied Robert, a good deal nettled by the duke's tone, "but I shall regard him as my cousin no longer; and a man who drives another by his bad conduct to call him to the field, and then slays him, I can only look upon as a murderer, be he my cousin or not."
"That dead hand there," said the duke, pointing to the corpse, "wrote, while yet in life, a full exculpation of his adversary's conduct in the affair of the duel, at least. Ralph Woodhall was only acting, it would seem, as any man of honor would have acted, and those who best deserve the name of murderers are they who urge on petty quarrels to a fatal result."
"Your grace's opinion seems harsh of me," said Robert Woodhall, with feelings of rage he could hardly repress.
"I have not forgotten," replied the Duke of Norfolk, "that the first quarrel last night was between yourself and your cousin Ralph. What may have been your conduct since I do not pretend to say; but certain I am, that until Henry Woodhall quitted the supper-table, he and his cousin were upon the most friendly terms, and I am not aware that they met afterward until this last fatal occasion."
Thus saying, he turned and left the room, giving some necessary directions to his servants as he descended the stairs.
Robert Woodhall remained standing at the foot of the bed, with his eyes gloomily fixed upon the floor. Several of the attendants still continued in the room; but they all drew back from the young gentleman with a feeling of dislike and suspicion, for which they might have found it difficult to assign a cause, though undoubtedly the duke's words gave direction to their thoughts. There are instincts, however, in the human breast; and those instincts, probably, had some share in the feelings of the men who surrounded Robert Woodhall.
He remained there, I have said, with his eyes fixed gloomily upon the floor--not upon the corpse; but he was roused from his revery by the voice of the surgeon, who still stood by the bedside, and who said, "Mr. Woodhall, will you come here for a moment?"
Robert approached him slowly, and then the old man said, in a peculiar tone, "Will you put your hand upon the breast of your poor cousin?"
"No," cried Robert Woodhall, almost fiercely; and, turning sharply on his heel, he quitted the room.
About two hours after the events I have just related, the Duke of Norfolk was seated in his own fine library, with lights and papers before him, but quite alone. The door opened, and his chamberlain appeared, saying, "Here is the young man, your grace; he had not gone to bed."
The chamberlain had been followed into the room by Gaunt Stilling, whose large, massive brow was very heavy, as if with deep grief. The duke waved his hand to the chamberlain, and that officer withdrew to the other side of the door, keeping watch there, but not approaching too close.
"Your master has not returned yet, I hear," said the duke, fixing his eyes upon Stilling's face.
"He has not, my lord duke," replied the other, gravely.
"This is a serious affair," said the duke; "and I fear that the consequences may be very serious to your master. Lord Woodhall is a man of much influence at court, and of a warm and vehement temper. This young gentleman who has been killed was the general favorite."
"And well he deserved to be so!" cried Gaunt Stilling, warmly; "he was not perfect--no man is; but, as people of his rank go, there were few like him. Had it been his cousin Robert, who would have cared? but Fate seems to make mistakes sometimes, as well as others. The good are taken and the bad are left."
The duke listened quietly to this outburst of feeling, and then inquired if the man thought he could tell where his master was to be found.
"I think I can find him, your grace," replied Gaunt Stilling; "but I will not say where, if any evil is to come of it."
"I do not wish to know where," answered the Duke of Norfolk. "If you can find him, well. Bear him this letter from me; and it will be as well to take with you as much of his baggage as you can, for I think it will be inexpedient for him to return hither for some time, till this storm has blown by. I will find means to befriend him during his absence."
"What am I to do with the rest of the baggage, my lord duke?" asked Gaunt Stilling; "there is a good deal more than a horse-load."
"There is a carrier crossing the country, I think, to-morrow," the duke replied; "the chamberlain will give you surer information. You can send the superfluous baggage by him to any place you like, northward or westward--perhaps it would be better to send it to his father's house; but my people will see it expedited, if you will give it into their charge."
Gaunt Stilling bowed, took the packet which the duke held in his hand, and which deserved that epithet rather than the name of letter, and withdrew in silence. But he did not set out immediately. An hour was spent in packing up the baggage of his master, and another hour in writing a long letter, which, when finished and sealed, he placed in another half sheet of paper, on the inner side of which he wrote a few lines to his father, and put old Stilling's address, at Coldenham, upon the whole. This, together with the larger trunk-mails, he delivered to the duke's night porter, to be forwarded by the chamberlain on the following day; and then, after making some inquiries as to the shortest roads, he placed the two pair of saddle-bags upon his horse, and set out in the same direction which had been taken by his master and Lady Danvers on the preceding morning.
It was by this time nearly four o'clock, and until daylight Stilling rode as fast as he could go, except where, every now and then, he met with a corner, or a turning of which he did not feel very sure. When daylight did break, and the laborers began to trudge forth into the fields, he found that he had gone somewhat out of his way, which obliged him to retrace his steps for nearly a couple of miles. He then proceeded more cautiously, but contrived to reach the little town where Lady Danvers was a few minutes before nine. At the inn he asked eagerly for his master, having some fear, indeed, that Ralph might have passed him while he had been wandering wide of the proper track.
The reply, however, satisfied him; for the landlord stated that the young gentleman, Mr. Woodhall, had that moment gone down to the justice room, with all the Duke of Norfolk's servants. Thither Stilling followed him, as soon as he had given his horse into the hands of the hostler, and placed his bags in security. Round the door there was a small crowd, as usual; but the stout young fellow elbowed his way in, and arrived just at the moment when the fat magistrate in the chair was announcing the decision of the bench.
"There is no pretense whatever," said the justice, "at least such is the opinion of myself and my brethren, for detaining Mr. Ralph Woodhall even for an hour. It is clearly shown, by a multitude of witnesses, that he endeavored to calm the riot rather than to excite it, and that the brutal conduct of the constable Doggett was the sole cause of any commotion; for which brutal conduct we have determined to reprimand the said Doggett, and he is reprimanded accordingly. Mr. Woodhall, you are at liberty, and we hope that your detention may not prove inconvenient."
Ralph was about to make some reply, but Stilling, stepping forward, placed the packet in his hand, saying, "From his grace of Norfolk, sir--in haste."
Ralph took it, and was breaking the seal, when Gaunt Stilling whispered, "You had better read it in private, sir, for there is matter of much moment in it."
Hurrying out of the justice roam, Ralph returned to the inn, sought his own chamber, and opened the packet.
It contained several sealed letters, addressed to different gentlemen in Dorsetshire and Somersetshire, and for himself a brief note to the following effect:
"My Young Friend,
"After finishing the inclosed, I have but a moment to write to you, but it is absolutely necessary for your safety, for your present comfort, and your future happiness, that you should leave this part of the country as speedily as possible. The anger of Lord Woodhall, when all is made known to him, will be excited, as you may well suppose, to the very highest pitch of fury. He has immense influence at court, and can destroy you. I am not sure that it would not be better and safer for you to betake yourself to Holland for a time; in which idea I have inclosed for you a letter for a gentleman at the Hague, who will show you kindness.
"You may trust upon my doing all I can for you during your absence, both out of consideration for yourself and our friend Moraber.
"You can consult Lady Danvers in the West as to the best means of keeping yourself concealed till this storm has blown by; but, whatever you may think of the circumstances in which you are placed, believe that my judgment is best, and take the advice of your sincere friend,
"Norfolk."
Ralph gazed at the letter for several minutes with a pale cheek and anxious eye but then some one knocked at his door, and the voice of one of Lady Danvers's servants said, "My lady, sir, wishes to speak with you immediately."
"I will come in a moment," replied Ralph; and, folding up the Duke of Norfolk's letter once more, he proceeded with it in his hand to Hortensia's apartments.