The MS. in a Red Box

by John A. Hamilton

CHAPTER X

No one cares to read of sickness and pain (unless it may be those whose business it is to cure them), but I am in a manner compelled to say something of my wounds, else my story later on would be hardly understood. The cut in my wrist caused me much trouble by the third day, so much that I could scarcely forbear from ripping off the bandage. By-and-by the pain in my hand was almost intolerable. The hurts in my shoulder were painful too. The earlier wound broke out again, and the bite inflamed greatly, and a kind of fever came upon me, so that I grew light-headed at times, and hardly knew where I was, or what I said. When I was myself again, I fumed and chafed at my weak and helpless condition, and sometimes grew frightened lest the bite of the mad woman might communicate madness. I could not comprehend my own irritability and want of self-command. The servants enraged me by stealing in and out of my room so softly, and by speaking in sharp whispers which went to my brain like stiletto thrusts. Good Mr. Butharwick, who nursed me with nigh unsleeping care, nearly drove me crazy by bidding me not to think of subjects which disturbed me, and by talking of matters that in nowise concerned me. He had made some astounding discovery about the children of Israel, and how their destiny was written in the sky, as also were the future of the true Church and the doom of Antichrist. Everything could be made plain to one who read the Bible and knew astrology, and my good tutor appeared to think I might be soothed by hearing these mysteries expounded. I refrain from blasphemous language about the Holy Scriptures, but I said things about the stars and star-gazing which hurt Mr. Butharwick grievously.

Dick Portington watched with me one night, and in my intervals of relief from pain, he told me how the commissioner had been carried away more dead than alive, but vowing vengeance on those who had caused his sufferings. Of fights between the Dutch and the Islonians he had much to tell; how the men of Haxey had driven off Vermuijden's men, thrown down their embankments, filled up the drains, burned carts and tools, and utterly destroyed their works in the south of the Isle; how an attack had been made on Sandtoft and repelled, some of the assailants falling into the hands of the Dutch, who had flogged them within an inch of their lives, and then turned them loose to shift as best they could, threatening worse punishment to the next batch of captives. This was done by order of the new commandant, Vliet, who was in high esteem with the Dutchmen on account of his boldness and cunning. Vermuijden had gone away to oversee another operation in Bedfordshire, leaving Vliet in full authority.

For the next two days I was in high fever, and my guardians refused to give Dick another opportunity of conversing with me. Luke was my best nurse and companion in these days, for my stolid man was in love, and in love with Martha, Anna's maid. They contrived to meet somehow, whenever I gave him permission to cross to Sandtoft, which I was never loath to do. If he had asked leave to go seven times a week, I should not have said him nay. In fact, losing count of time as I sometimes did, by reason of weakness and wandering of mind, I would ask him if he meant to go to-day, and he would answer, "Lord love you, Measter Frank, an' 'twere but yesterday I fared across." Through Luke I heard of my love, and she sent me messages, and gave him directions about the treatment of my hurts and as to my diet, Luke it was who told me that her mother was an English woman, the daughter of a London merchant, who had gone into exile for conscience sake. Martha also was of English parentage, the child of a servant who had accompanied the family to the Netherlands. "Which accounts for her pastry-making," added Luke. Through Luke I heard that Vliet pressed his suit with ardour, Doctor Goel seconding him; but that I had a friend at court in the maid, who was a humble friend rather than a common servant, and hated Sebastian with a perfect hatred. I was surprised and perplexed to hear Sheffield had visited Sandtoft, and struck up a friendship with Vliet. This I could not understand, and it disquieted me.

At the end of a fortnight I could go about a little, but the wounds in the shoulder did not properly heal, and I recovered strength but slowly.

One day as I sat out on the lawn in front of the house, Luke near me, busied in cleaning a gun, an old woman, with a tattered shawl over her head and a basket on her arm, came feebly up the drive, now and then coughing asthmatically. In a wheezing voice she begged to be allowed to show me the contents of her basket. Luke gave her his stool, which she accepted with profuse gratitude, and then asked for a drink of water.

"Bring her a cordial, Luke," I said, as he went off to the kitchen.

As soon as he was out of hearing, the old woman said in Bess Boswell's voice.

"Send him away again when he returns. I must have a private word with you."

Sure enough, now I looked narrowly at her, I recognised the eyes, but the rest of the face was that of an aged woman.

"What is the meaning of this mummery, Bess?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten what I told you? It is dangerous for me to be seen speaking to you," she replied.

"No; but I can't for the life of me understand the danger," said I.

"Certainly you can't; but that does not alter the fact," answered she, in a tone rather scornful of my sagacity, I thought.

Luke came toward us with the cordial at this point, and I bade him leave us awhile, as the poor body had something to tell me of her affairs. He withdrew out of earshot, but remained within sight of us.

"Your man is quicker of apprehension than you," she said. "He doesn't know me, and he doesn't trust me. He is loading his gun, and keeping a watchful eye on me; a good servant, that. I wish you would take a leaf out of his book, and be on your guard against strangers. Two months ago I begged you to go away out of the Isle, and it is by the most wonderful luck you are alive to-day."

"I have been in danger once or twice; I do know so much."

Bess waved her hand loftily.

"I do not speak of mobs and crazy women; your enemies are much more formidable."

"Come now, Bess, drop this mysterious style, and tell a plain tale, if you have one. You mean that Sheffield owes me a grudge, and won't stick at trifles to pay it. I know that as well as you, and I am not shaking in my shoes about it."

Bess laughed. "One of your worst enemies is your confidence in bodily strength and pluck. Lord Sheffield is not blessed with the sharpest wits in the world, though he is more than your match in craftiness, but he has the help of a man as cunning as the devil."

"Do you mean the Dutchman, Vliet?" I asked.

Bess laughed again. "The Dutchman is a bulldog, and, if you are prudent, you will not go near his kennel. But you have to be on your guard against one who can intrigue. Let me tell you there are sworn accusations now at Castle Mulgrave that Daft Jack was your tool, and if the poor fellow is caught he will be made to confess that he was."

"But it is a lie!" I exclaimed.

"I wonder how many lies have been confessed on the rack," retorted Bess. "There is a charge against you—waiting for something to strengthen the case—of having resisted the King's authority at Thorne, and inciting others to do so. At the same time it is being whispered about among the common sort that you are a traitor to the Islonian cause, and to your father. The Dutch are told that you are their secret enemy, the instigator of the attacks made on them."

"But these stories are contradictory, the one of the other!"

"What does that matter? The effect of them is that you are looked upon with hate and disgust all round. You were in great favour with the people just after the Crowle flood, but they are in a different mind to-day. Tales are told of you in every alehouse which would be laughable, if they were not believed. All this is done on the chance that your enemy may be saved the trouble of your taking off; he is prepared to act himself, if they don't."

"But what motive can he have?" I asked, incredulously.

"To get money," she answered.

"Who is the man?"

"Before I tell you, I must have your word never to betray me—never to tell any one else, directly or indirectly."

"I give it you."

"The man is my father."

I laughed now. "Lord Bozzy," "cheating Bozzy," the gipsy rascal, whose feats and pranks were a perpetual and relishing jest all over the Isle! It was ridiculous to consider him in the light of a malignant, subtle enemy.

Bess gave me a contemptuous smile. "Do you happen to know that he has stolen a horse, and sold it afterwards to the man from whom he had stolen it? Did you ever hear of his being entertained as an honoured guest at the house of a magistrate, who had condemned him to the stocks a day or two before? Have you heard of his passing for a clergyman, London merchant, French traveller, and a dozen other characters, among people who knew him well, or thought they did? And if he can take in every dull-witted squire in the Isle just for mirth and play, what do you suppose he can't do, when he is to gain a fortune by doing it?"

On reflection, I admitted to myself that contempt for Boswell might be foolish, and passed at once to suspicion. What if this girl had been employed to frighten me away? Her I did not suspect, but might she not have been allowed to hear this and that, in the hope that she would inform me, and so I might be driven out of the Isle? A fine fellow I should be to run for my life, because a wench cried Bugaboo!

"Well, Bess, I am infinitely obliged to you," I said; "but I am not likely to take to flight. If you are good enough to warn me of any scheme you may hear of, I shall be forearmed."

"Do you suppose my father imparts his plans to me, or any one? I may guess his design by some direction he gives; I may divine a purpose by watching him closely. He doesn't talk of doing a thing, he does it."

It was curious to see the sort of pride she had in the man whose plans she was endeavouring to thwart, pride mingled with fear.

We sat a little while in silence. Then Bess got up to go.

"You will not heed my warning? Oh, you are bewitched, or you would not lose house and land, scorn a fair damsel, who would be your loving, faithful wife, break your father's heart, risk your life, all for—an outlandish woman!"

"I believe you honest, Bess," I rejoined; "but is all this of your own motion?"

"And who should prompt me?" she asked.

"Nay, that I cannot guess."

"Nor ever will." And away she went without another word.

A day or two later, my father returned, looking worn and aged, so that my heart ached to see the change. He, on his part, was deeply concerned to find me weak and ailing, and sent Luke to Doncaster with a letter to a physician there, forbidding him to return until he could bring the doctor. When he heard that my wounds had been got in defending the Goels, he refrained from speech, but his looks were of sorrow and anger both.

Late in the evening he gave to Mr. Butharwick and me an account of what he had done to get the decision of the judges put in force against Vermuijden, but all in vain. At length he determined to appeal to the King himself, whose will made null and void the sentence of the law. He bribed some of his Majesty's attendants heavily, but could not for a long time obtain audience. The King was in such anxiety and excitement about the Queen's French servants, of whom he greatly desired to be rid, and to have them sent back to their own country, that he could think or hear of nothing else, unless it were of some means of laying hands on money, which he wanted sorely. So the courtiers and servants said. Nevertheless, my father followed the King, who was exceedingly restless, from one place to another, seeking a favourable occasion, and at last found it in a village near Cambridge. One of the King's gentlemen, who had taken my father's money, came to him at his lodging, reporting his Majesty to be in better humour that evening, having had from his Grace of Buckingham a letter which satisfied him the mounseers would soon be packed off to France. Seeing him in this temper, the gentleman had presented my father's petition, which the King had read, and then signified that the petitioner might be admitted to his chamber.

"But as soon as I came into the King's presence," said my father, "I knew, by the scowl on his face, my plea had no chance of success. He did not condescend to speak to me until he had told his people I was from Lincolnshire, which Henry VIII. had declared the most disloyal county in England, which condemnation was justified in his own experience. And of this rebellious county, the worst part was the Isle of Axholme, where one of his commissioners had been vilely used of late. Then he went on to say that in his care for his subjects in that barbarous corner of his dominions, he had authorized a scheme for reclaiming many acres of soil now under water, and, pointing to me, he said, 'This fellow has dared to defy his King by opposing our gracious purpose, setting forth I know not what legal quibbles in the courts of law; and when he fails in his rebellious design, actually has the audacity to approach us in person.' Then he tore up the paper and threw it into the fire, and turned to me, saying, 'Go to the devil, and thank your stars you are not helped thither by a sword through your body.' Whereupon I was jostled out of the sacred presence."

After Mr. Butharwick had retired, my father opened out to me on the state of our affairs, and in a strain altogether new. The change was so great as to make me afraid of I hardly knew what. He, who was used to speak and act with so much resolution and masterfulness, now lamented his unwisdom in taking upon him the burdensome charge of the "solicitorship," and accused himself of wronging me thereby. I could scarcely believe my ears, and doubted whether I was awake or dreaming.

"I had confidence that a just cause must prevail in England, but I ought to have perceived that everything is changed in this country. A King, who despises the rights of his people in general, and flouts his Parliament, cannot be hindered of his will with a few landowners and poor folk in Axholme, when he is in dire straits for money, and can get it by trampling us underfoot. In my foolish confidence I have done a great wrong by encumbering the estate so heavily."

I knew not how to answer; babbled something about doing our utmost to repair the mischief.

"Happily, it is possible to do that," he replied. "There is no doubt that Mistress Ryther and her father will welcome you as a suitor for her hand in marriage. You may not be inclined for matrimony just at present, and there is no hurry, but you should lose no time in asking the lady's promise. That obtained, all our troubles are at an end. And as soon as you are wedded I will go abroad, taking Butharwick with me, leaving the bride to queen it here. When I return, a house in Beltoft will suffice for me.

"Unfortunately, I cannot ask Mistress Ryther to marry me," I answered, "because I love another lady with every fibre of my body and every thought of my heart."

My father smiled. "You think so, Frank; and it is partly my fault. I ought to have turned you loose in town, sent you on the grand tour, given you a chance to prove how often we can be in love, and how quickly out of it again. 'Tis a malady incident to youth, a passing fever; but while the delirium lasts, we see and converse with angels. Change of air is a cure for it."

How I threw scorn on this scorn of love, how I protested and vowed my love could not die, may be imagined by a lover, and no other would care to read such matter.

My father replied, with an indulgent smile, "Yes, yes, my son, I know. But you must see that marriage with the Dutch girl is out of the question. You have nothing to marry on. If you refuse Mistress Ryther, you are a landless, penniless man. Even if it were otherwise, how can you wed the daughter of a fellow who broke prison and fled his country, sooner than take his trial for conspiracy to murder his Prince? A pretty family connection for the master of Temple Belwood! You might as well propose to marry a gipsy; better indeed, for your own people would not burn the house over your head for that, as they certainly would, if you took a wife from the camp of the Dutch invaders. Besides, the girl is mated already—or as good as mated—with a rascal who was drummed out of King Christian's army for cheating at dice. You see I have taken some pains to inform myself about your Fancy and her associates."

"And who is your informant, may I ask?"

"A Frenchman, Chavatte by name, a gentleman and a man of affairs, who came over with Vermuijden, putting much money into the business. I met with him at Cambridge, where he was seeking Vermuijden, as I was seeking the Lord's Anointed. He has withdrawn from the company for good reasons. For one thing, he is convinced that the plan for the drainage is fatally defective, and Vermuijden will not hear of alteration. Then he has discovered that the King has sold what never belonged to him, and has no mind to be a receiver of stolen goods, nor does he expect that the rightful owners will ever submit to the robbery. And he has the strongest distaste to Vermuijden's lieutenant and deputy. He is trying to recover some of his money, and will shortly go home. You will be inclined to consider him a man of sense, for he admires Mistress Goel's beauty, and applauds her devotion to her father, whom he regards as lunatic, most especially because he desires to give her in marriage to this Vliet. 'But he finds favour with the incomprehensible sex,' Chavatte added, with his French shrug of the shoulders."

I did not speak for some time. A horrible doubt had crept into my mind. Suppose Anna's filial piety should overcome her repugnance to Sebastian Vliet. Suppose the fellow had reformed his conduct. Suppose he succeeded in gaining her consent. If Anna were lost to me, what mattered it to me whether I married Mistress Ryther, or a gipsy, or a blackamoor? If I could redeem the dear old place, and make my father happy, was it not my duty to do so? Always supposing that Anna could not, or would not be my wife. It was the first time I had given way to despondency, and even now I do not understand what it was that plunged me into gloom.

One thing only was clear to me, that I must see Anna without delay, and learn whether I was to be blessed or miserable for the whole of my life. I could not keep before myself that I had nothing to offer for her acceptance, or that her father might treat the offer with ridicule. I could think of nothing but the necessity to see Anna, and hear the word which should decide my fate. My father said nothing to interrupt my meditations. Since he had been away from home, he had formed the habit of smoking, and he now lighted his pipe and puffed silently. When he had finished his pipe and knocked out the ashes, he said—

"I will not press you for an answer to-night; but it is to be remembered that handsome young women, who have heaps of money, are not as plentiful as blackberries in September."

"I will give you an answer to-morrow evening," I replied; but did not say anything of my intention to go to Sandtoft in the morning, for I felt certain my father would oppose it strongly. Indeed, what with the lightness of my head and the heaviness of my heart, it took me some time to get upstairs and to bed. Luke, who was accustomed to help me, was away, and it occurred to me that if I missed him to-night, I should miss him much more to-morrow.