SITUATION.
So Harry stood, with his retreat cut off, staring into the darkness, while Katie, clinging to him, awaited the result. Harry expected every minute that lights would be produced and everything revealed. But the lights did not come, and the discovery was delayed. There occurred a pause, during which Harry waited, after which the sliding, shuffling sounds recommenced.
They now came nearer. Then came the sound of a stealthy footfall—very slow, too, and very cautious. The new-comer, the supposed pursuer, whoever he was, seemed now to be in the room, and cautiously advancing. As yet he was under the shadow, and was, therefore, invisible in the gloom; but he was approaching the place where the moonbeams fell—where he might be seen. Harry noted this, and wondered how many more of them there might be. Katie also looked up now, and stood listening. Both of these were waiting for a chance to separate, if possible—Katie to go back to her own place, and Harry to fly back to his room.
At length the advancing figure reached the place where the moonbeams fell, and here he entered the moonlight, so that it was possible to see his outline, though not to distinguish features. It was a man—he was unarmed, and all his gestures and motions indicated excessive caution and watchfulness. Harry and Katie both saw him, as he groped about and peered through the gloom.
"It's 'His Majesty,'" said Katie.
"H-s-s-s-h!" said Harry.
The slight, whispered sounds seemed to catch the ears of the visitor. He stood and listened. But the sounds were not repeated, and he resumed his progress.
"I know who it is," said Harry, in the faintest possible whisper.
"Who?"
"It's Ashby," said Harry.
Katie said not a word in reply, but the effect of that name upon her was none the less manifest. The hands which had been clasping Harry's arm relaxed their hold; she moved away from him. Harry caught her hand and tried to detain her, but Katie snatched it away, and Harry was afraid to insist. It was evident that she was offended; and at what? Was it at the mention of Ashby's name? And but a moment before she had said that she would share his fate—"Then if you are lost, I will be lost with you!" Those were her words. And now she was offended!
Harry could not believe it. He took a step after her and found her again. He sought again to take her hand. It was not now refused. Katie seemed to have overcome her irritation. The quarrel was over. So overjoyed was he that he put his arms round her slender form, and unconsciously pressed her close to his heart, while her head sank down on his breast. And there, all the time, only a few paces off, was Ashby himself!
But the beauty of it was that Ashby just then was not thinking of Katie at all. He had come here to see Dolores. For her he was making this venture, having stolen in through the passage-way which she had shown him. He had promised, it is true, not to visit her except in cases of extreme necessity; but as he had felt very lonely, he concluded that this was the necessity in question, and had come to this place.
The room seemed to him very silent. He had come down the chimney with very little noise, and had surveyed the scene from the dark recesses of the fireplace. The corners of the room were all in darkness, but the floor was illuminated here and there by the moonbeams. Having thus taken a general view, Ashby could do nothing else but go forward; and this he did, thinking that every one was asleep, and that by some happy luck he would find Dolores.
As for Dolores, she was not asleep at that time, nor had she been asleep at all.
Katie had taken for granted that the beautiful Spaniard was in the land of forgetfulness; but Katie had never in her life been more entirely mistaken. Dolores was wide awake, and had been engaged in thoughts and speculations which made sleep impossible. It was nothing less than a plan of escape, over which her busy brain was occupied, and there were certain difficulties about it, through which she could not see her way clearly. It was over these that she was puzzling her brain when her attention was roused by certain strange movements in the room.
These were, first, the movements of Katie as she stole to the fireplace and waited there.
Secondly, the movements of Harry as he shuffled down to Katie's side.
Thirdly, the preliminary whisperings of Harry and Katie.
Fourthly, the movements of these two out of the fireplace into the corner of the room.
Fifthly, their continuous whisperings, which sometimes were so animated that they might have wakened any sleeper.
Over all this Dolores was deeply agitated. Who, she asked herself, was this visitor to Katie? It could be one, and one only. That one was Ashby? She had shown him the way. He alone knew it. He had promised her not to come, but he had broken his word and had come. And why? Not for her, but for his English maiden! There were these two now plotting and whispering in her presence, and that, too, after Ashby had disowned with scorn this English maiden, and had spoken such words to her! What could she do now? For such outraged love, such treachery, and such intolerable insult, what revenge could suffice?
Revenge! Yes, nothing less than revenge! For Dolores was not one of those tender and sensitive creatures who could lie down and die under a cruel wrong. Her ardent Southern nature was roused to fury, and she remained there motionless, but—like some wild beast ready to start from its lair when the prey is at hand. Away now went all thoughts of flight with Ashby. Vengeance alone remained for her to think of—vengeance full and complete, which should involve both Ashby and the English maiden. What this vengeance was to be, however, she could not think of as yet; but she knew that in order to make it as full and complete as possible, it would be necessary to think it all over from every point of view.
In this amiable frame of mind Dolores was thus waiting and listening—stung to madness by every new whisper, and nourishing her own rage all the more every moment—until at length she became gradually aware of a sound proceeding from another quarter, and not coming from the two whisperers in the corner at all. There was some one in the fireplace—some newcomer who had approached by that way. What did this mean? Who could this be? Did others know of the secret passage-way? If so, then her surroundings were very different from what she had supposed, and her whole course of action would have to be changed.
Dolores watched, and at length saw the figure of the new-comer quite distinct in the moonlight, yet not so distinct as to enable her to ascertain who it was. The idea was so firmly fixed in her mind that the first comer was Ashby, that she could only suppose this new visitor to be one of the Carlists, perhaps "His Majesty" himself.
Meanwhile this new-comer had been stealthily moving along, and Dolores watched and listened. Now was the time which she might seize, if she chose, as the time for vengeance. If this were really one of the Carlists, above all, if this were "His Majesty," she might have sweet revenge by denouncing the false traitor Ashby on the spot, before he could escape. It would be sweet to see the dismay of the traitor when thus discovered under her own eyes. Still, even in that hour of her madness and her fury, she felt that before taking the irrevocable step and denouncing Ashby it would be necessary to be perfectly sure. So Dolores waited.
Meanwhile Ashby in his progress had passed beyond the place where Dolores was, and had traversed more than half the apartment. At this moment he was at fault, and felt anxious to know where to direct his way. He thought the best way would be to try first if Dolores was awake. And so, in a thin, low, but very distinct whisper, he said:
"Do-lo-res!"
Dolores heard it. Well she knew that in the castle there was no one who called her by that name—save one. Instantly a wild revulsion of feeling took place. She had mistaken—the first visitor was not Ashby. Ashby was not false. He was true. He had come, but he had come for her—herself. It was her name that he called. In that sudden revulsion of feeling she almost shouted for joy. She started up, and, regardless of everything but her own heart, was about to steal toward Ashby, when suddenly she was arrested in her attempt.
There arose another sound from some one near the door.
"Here, here," said a whisper—"here I am. How long you've been!"
Ashby heard this voice, and thinking it was Dolores, hurried there. Dolores heard it, understood Ashby's action, and sank down in consternation and despair. Katie and Harry heard it, and thought it was "His Majesty" on his way to Mrs. Russell. And they thought that others of "His Majesty's" followers were in the chimney.
Ashby saw a figure dimly defined in the gloom. It was indistinguishable. He took it for Dolores. So he folded that figure fondly in his arms, and the "figure" reciprocated to the fullest extent.
"Oh, my own love and darling!" sighed Ashby, in Spanish.
Mrs. Russell understood not a word of Spanish. She thought, however, that if "His Majesty" could express himself more freely in that language it was certainly quite natural for him to use it; yet it did seem rather unfair to her to come here and talk love and use endearing expressions in an unknown tongue. "His Majesty" seemed very eloquent and strongly agitated, yet Mrs. Russell could not make out what he said, nor had she a chance to explain.
For in the midst of all this there occurred a new interruption. This was the sound of a key turning in the door. The door opened immediately behind Mrs. Russell, and a soft voice, said in familiar tones and in a husky whisper:
"Whis-s-s-s-sht, darlin'—are ye awake, thin! Sure I hope the gyerruls are aslape."
CHAPTER XXXI. — IN WHICH THE WHOLE PARTY FIND THEMSELVES IS A HAUNTED CASTLE.
At the opening of the door and the sound of the voice Ashby started back and retreated. He was very much puzzled at the Irish brogue, and could only think that a stray Paddy might be among the Carlists. However, there was no time to wait, so he sought to regain the fireplace. But as he did so a figure came in his way, arms were flung about him, and a low, faint whisper came close to his ear:
"Oh, Assebi! I am Dolores; that other is Mrs. Russell. Fly, or you are lost!"
Here was a new shock for Ashby, but he did not lose his presence of mind. The new-comer was still at the door. He was not followed. At this he noted as he stood for a moment or so holding Dolores in his arms.
As for Mrs. Russell, nothing could exceed her amazement and terror when "His Majesty" came in behind her at the very moment when she supposed herself to be in "His Majesty's" arms. It was unintelligible—nay, even frightful.
"Weren't you—your Majesty—here—just now?" she stammered.
"Me! Us! Here? Divil a bit av us! We've just come," was the reply.
"But who was it? Some one was here."
"Some one?" said "His Majesty." "Oh, maybe it was our r'y'l footstep."
"No—but some one was talking Spanish."
"Walkin' Spanish, ye mane," replied the august monarch. "Sure nobody's been talkin' Spanish here at all at all."
"But, your Majesty, some one was here—talking to me—close to me."
"Shure it was one av the gyerruls."
"No; it was a—a man!"
"A man!" exclaimed "His Majesty," in surprise.
"Yes."
"What! here in this room?"
"Yes."
"Shure ye've been dramin'—so ye have; or else—maybe it was the castle ghost."
"The ghost!" groaned Mrs. Russell. "Oh, your Majesty! Oh, my own one! Oh, save me! Don't—don't let it come near me!"
And, flinging her arms around the royal person, Mrs. Russell clung to it, sobbing hysterically.
"Shure—whisht, will yez, or ye'll waken up the gyerruls," said the monarch. "I'll protect yez, if ye'll let me, so I will."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Russell, clinging more closely to "His Majesty," "do you hear that?"
"What?"
"That noise!"
"What noise?"
"I heard a wow—wow—whisper!" sobbed the lady.
"A whisper—nonsinse!" said "His Majesty."
"Oh, listen!" said Mrs. Russell, holding him tight, so that he could not get free. At this "His Majesty" remained perfectly still, and listened. There certainly were some low, indistinct sounds, among which were whispers.
"Shure it's the gyerruls," said "His Majesty." "That's what it is."
"Oh, look! look!" cried Mrs. Russell. "The ghost! the ghost!"
And with a loud cry Mrs. Russell fell back. "His Majesty" encircled her with the royal arms, and gently deposited her on the floor, standing thus in deep perplexity. But at this instant a sight caught his eye which made him start. It was Ashby's figure traversing the room, through the moonlight. He had waited up to the last moment and had just taken his departure, but as he moved along the floor toward the chimney the royal eye saw him.
"Be jabers!" said "His Majesty," "ghost or no ghost, I must see to this. The castle's haunted as sure as a gun, but that isn't the figure an' farrum av a maydoiayval ghost, so it isn't."
Mrs. Russell now revived, and struggled up to her feet.
"Is—is—it gig—gig—gone?" she asked, with a shudder.
"Sorra a one av me knows," said "His Majesty." "I'm going to invistigate."
"Oh!" wailed Mrs. Russell, "leave me not—oh, Your Sacred Majesty, desert me not!"
"Shure I'm only going to get loights," said "His Majesty."
"Oh, forsake me not! Be not so cruel!"
"Crool! Ah, be off wid yer nonsinse!" said "His Majesty." "Whisht now, jool—sure I'll be back in a jiffy. If it's any one that's got in, I'll find him whin I come back; an' if it's a ghost, why, it's just as well to know it."
"Oh, your Majesty," cried Mrs. Russell, "do not forsake me! Without you it is too—too—too horrible!"
"Shure ain't I telling yez," said "His Majesty," "that I'm only goin' to get loights, an' that I'll be back in a jiffy? Be quiet, now, an' it 'll be all right."
With these words "His Majesty" tried gently but firmly to disengage Mrs. Russell's clasped arms from about his neck. This he found much difficulty in doing, but at length he succeeded in getting free. After this he went out, locking the door behind him.
After about five minutes he returned with a blazing torch, followed by half a dozen men, who remained outside awaiting his summons, while "His Majesty" alone went in. The moment that the door opened to admit him, some one came rushing into his arms with such violence as almost to extinguish the torch and upset the royal person. "His Majesty" recovered himself, however, and uttered several ejaculations which in any less distinguished person would certainly have sounded like profanity.
"Be aisy, now, will yez?" he said, in a milder voice, "an' howld away yer arrums, jool, till I invistigate the primisis. If it's a livin' man I'll fix him; an' if it's a ghost—begorra, I'll—let him go."
With these words "His Majesty" succeeded in extricating himself from the clutches of Mrs. Russell, and, holding aloft the torch, began to walk about the room, looking closely everywhere, while Mrs. Russell followed at his heels, entreating him to take care of his royal person.
"Arrah, shure, now," said "His Majesty," "we're accustomed to danger. We don't moind throifles like this—not a bit av it:
"'For divil a bit av me cares,
I'm randy to tackle the foe;
If alive, let him fight if he dares,
If he's dead, to the dogs let him go.'"
By this time the noise and the flaming torches had seemed to rouse up Katie and Dolores. Both of these now stood up, blinking and shrinking, clinging timidly to one another, and looking like two frightened children just awakened. They seemed so surprised, so confused, and so terrified, that the heart of "His Majesty" swelled with pity and compassion.
"Ladies! jools!" said he, "don't, don't give way. Shure it's all over now, so it is, an' yez needn't be a bit afraid any more."
"What's all over?" asked Katie, in a tone of alarm.
"What? Why—shure nothin'."
"There was some one in the room," said Mrs. Russell, in frightened tones.
"Some one in the room!" cried Katie, in a voice so full of terror that it became a positive shriek. "Oh! oh! oh! Who? who? What? what?"
Never was terror more eloquently depicted on any human face than on Katie's expressive countenance on this occasion. She flung herself into Dolores's arms and clung to her. Dolores said nothing, but clung to Katie in silence.
"Alarrums av this sort," said "His Majesty," "isn't shuited to their delicate, narvous systems—so they isn't. I've got a dhrop av whiskey about me, if—But I suppose they wouldn't care for it."
With these words "His Majesty" approached Katie for the purpose of soothing her, or of paying her some delicate compliment, but Katie contrived to keep Dolores between herself and the royal wooer till the R. W. felt baffled.
"Shure it's very disthressin', so it is," said he, as he turned away. "But I'll take a luk round."
He looked all around, walked by the walls, gravely peered into the fireplace, and at length came back.
"There's no one here," said he.
"But I saw some one," said Mrs. Russell.
"Shure, thin, it was no livin' man ye saw, an' there ye have it."
"No living man!" screamed Mrs. Russell.
"Shure no; how could it have been? Wouldn't I a seen him, an' me wid a loight?"
"Then it's a ghost!" said Mrs. Russell, with another scream.
"Divil a one else," said "His Majesty." "It's the castle ghost—only I don't see why he came in modern coschume. But perhaps it isn't the castle ghost. It may be the last prisoner that was shot."
This last suggestion was unspeakably horrible to Mrs. Russell. Well she knew who that last prisoner was! The last prisoner! Oh, horror! and the apparition was It! And It had come to her!—embraced her!—spoke words of love! It was He!—her once loved but now lost Johnny!
The thought was too much. With a wild yell, she flung her arms around "His Majesty" and fainted.
"It's mesilf," said "His Majesty," placidly, "that 'ud be the proud man to shtay here an' watch wid yez agin the ghost, but juty calls me elsewhere." As he said this, he tried to detach the arms of Mrs. Russell, who now clung to him with rigid and death-like tenacity. This, however, he could not do, and as her weight was considerable, he gravely seated himself on the floor, and implored Katie and Dolores to help him. This they did, and their united efforts succeeded in loosening Mrs. Russell's grasp. The stricken lady gave a gasp and raised her head, but "His Majesty" was too nimble for her. By a desperate movement he withdrew from her reach, and stood for a moment at a respectable distance.
"Ladies," said he, "it's mesilf that 'ud be the proud man to shtay; but there's no danger in the worruld—not the laste in loife, an' this lady requires your care. So I'm thinkin' I'll be off, an' if anythin' happens agin, you sing out."
Saying these words, "His Majesty" left the room somewhat more hurriedly than he had entered it. His departure completed Mrs. Russell's prostration. For the remainder of the night she refused to be comforted, but remained terrified, lamenting bitterly, and exclaiming incessantly: "Oh, why did he leave me!—why, oh, why did he leave me!"