CHAPTER XXI.
While the examination had been proceeding in the little breakfast-parlor, the ear of Captain Delaware had been more than once struck by a number of voices speaking in the library, from which it opened: and as he was conducted through that apartment, the first sight that presented itself was his sister, Blanche, bathed in tears. She had been prevented from entering the room in which the magistrates sat; but the moment she beheld her brother, she sprang forward, and threw herself into his arms, clinging to his bosom in an agony of distress and tenderness. Captain Delaware kissed her cheek and bade her be comforted, assuring her that the charge against him was not only false, but perfectly absurd; and that a few hours would set him at liberty again.
"Oh, no! No, no!" cried Blanche. "I see it all, William! It is all part of a plot to ruin us, and they will never be satisfied till we are crushed and disgraced. That Lord Ashborough and his lawyer will work their designs by some means, be assured!"
At that moment Dr. Wilton advanced from the inner room, and withdrew Blanche from the arms of her brother, bidding her take heart; and whispering that he had already sent off a messenger for Mr. Beauchamp, whose presence, he doubted not, would clear up the whole story. Blanche shook her head mournfully, and covered her eyes with her hands, while her brother was led away to his own room. The door was locked on the outside, and the constables, placing themselves in the ante-room, cut off all communication between the young officer and his family, who remained desolate and anxious, amid the scenes which had lately been so full of calm happiness and enjoyment.
In the mean while, Captain Delaware stated himself at the table, in his own room, and endeavored to bend the whole powers of his mind to the investigation of his own situation in all its bearings. While either in the actual presence of the magistrates, or under the eyes of his own family, he had felt it necessary to repel every thought of real danger, and not to yield one step to apprehension; but now he saw that it was indispensable to look at his situation in the worst point of view, and to admit the utmost extent of the peril in which he stood.
He was innocent! that was one great source of confidence and expectation, for he believed, and felt sure, that an innocent man had very seldom suffered. But still such things had occasionally taken place, beyond all doubt; and it behoved him to consider whether his own might not be one of those cases in which such an event was likely. As he looked at the evidence against himself, he could not but acknowledge that, as it stood at the present moment, there was a strong presumption of his guilt. He had been seen to threaten the murdered man, in the morning; he had been seen in the neighborhood of his house, on the night the murder was committed; he had been in known and acknowledged want of the money up to that hour; and then he had suddenly obtained possession of it in a manner of which he could give no probable account. Several of the notes had been certainly in possession of the murdered man a few hours before the crime was committed on his person; and one of them, he had himself remarked, while paying it to the lawyer, appeared stained with blood. "Were I upon a jury," he thought, "what verdict would I return! Guilty, undoubtedly--unless some clear explanation of such suspicious circumstances could be given and substantiated. Now, let me consider what I have to give, and how it can be proved.
"I have nothing but the bare supposition that the money was placed in my room by Henry Beauchamp, or by his servant; and although that surmise may be equal to a certainty in my own mind, it is likely to have little weight with others. Dr. Wilton, too, admits that he set out for London about three o'clock, when the money assuredly was not here! Can I be mistaken in supposing it to have been him! Can Blanche's suspicion be correct, that this is part of a plan to ruin my father and his family forever!"
As these ideas crossed William Delaware's mind, he shuddered with mingled feelings of horror at the thought of such guilt, and apprehension for the consequences to himself; but at the same time, as he suffered his mind to rest upon the suspicion, it acquired a degree of probability that he was not inclined to assign to it at first. He recalled the conduct which Lord Ashborough had pursued toward his father through life--the vindictive malice he had displayed during the two or three years that elapsed after their first quarrel, as young men--the cold grinding exactions, not unmingled with scorn, with which he had kept him through life at fortune's lowest ebb--the rude harshness with which he had repelled his first proposal for redeeming the annuity. Then the sudden change in his manners--the facility with which he agreed to that which he had so peremptorily declined--the business of the bills--the delay in the payment--and the fact of the lawyer having come down prepared with a writ against his father, before he could have known, except by collusion with the miser, whether the money would be paid or not--all these facts passed before his remembrance, and with that rapidity of conclusion which was one of his greatest weaknesses, he instantly became convinced that Lord Ashborough and his adviser would halt at no step which might crush his father, and his father's house; that the present charge originated in such motives; and that it would be supported against him by every artful device that hatred could frame, or wealth and skill could carry through. He did not, it is true, suppose that the unhappy man at Ryebury had been murdered with a view to the charge against him; but he did believe that the murder had been seized upon as an incident to render the crime more heinous; and, however it occurred that the two facts leaped so well together, he concluded that the money had been placed in his room for the express purpose of betraying himself and his family, by bringing against him some accusation, the very suspicion of which would ruin him in his profession, degrade him from his station in society, and sink his father beneath a load of shame and despair.
He thought over it, again and again; and whenever the improbabilities, which were not thinly mingled with the composition of his suspicions, came across his mind, and made him begin to doubt if he were right, he set against them, on the other hand, all the reasons that existed for believing that the money could not have been left by Beauchamp, and called to mind also the words of his sister.
"How could such a suspicion enter her mind," he asked himself, "unless she had discovered something to make her believe that Lord Ashborough and his lawyer were bent upon her family's ruin?" and, as he thus thought, he would have given worlds for a few minutes' conversation with Blanche, longing for it, of course, the more eagerly on account of its impossibility.
Whichever way he turned, there were improbabilities to be encountered; and for long he vacillated between the opinion that Beauchamp had left the money in his chamber, and the suspicion that it had been placed there by some of the agents of Lord Ashborough, in order that a charge of robbery, embezzlement, or something equally criminal and degrading, might be raised upon the fact. Now the one predominated, now the other, and his mind continued tossed between the two, like a ship rolling in the long swell that follows a severe storm. At length he determined to write down all the causes of suspicion he had against the lawyer Peter Tims, in order to lay them clearly and substantially before the magistrates or the coroner, that his own established reputation and high character might be supported by strong proofs of animosity and vindictive feeling on the part of the accuser.
Materials for writing were luckily to be found in his chamber, and he proceeded to place on paper the history of the whole transaction with Lord Ashborough up to the payment of the bill that morning; but the effect upon his own mind was fully as great as that which he intended to produce upon others; and, before he had concluded the paper, he was morally convinced, that by the instigation of Lord Ashborough's agent, and by his instigation alone, the money had been left in his room. He laid down the pen to combine in thought this certainty with the presumptions of guilt already brought forward against him; and, as he perceived how much might be made of the evidence already collected--how little opportunity the law allowed him for gathering the means of rebutting the accusation--and what a facility unbounded wealth, great influence, and freedom from all restraint, gave to his enemy, he clasped his hands and gave himself up to despair.
"Beauchamp will of course be sent for," he thought; "and, when he comes, it only remains for him to declare that he had nothing to do with the transaction--and my condemnation takes place, of course. Good God! a commander in his Majesty's navy to die like a common felon! My name and my family to be branded with infamy forever! My father to expire of shame within the year; and my poor Blanche, if she survive, to be pointed at for life as the sister of the murderer, William Delaware! Ay!" he thought, more bitterly still, "and Beauchamp will thank his good stars which kept him from such an alliance; and Maria Beauchamp may perhaps blush when she remembers that the murderer was her cousin. But time," he cried, starting up, "time will do me justice, and clear my name; and then she may weep to think how I was wronged, and how she believed it!"
After walking up and down the room for some time, in a state of mind which it would be difficult to describe, he took down a book and endeavored to read, but in vain. He then strove to amuse his mind by looking out of the window, which commanded an extensive view over the wilder part of the park at the back of the house, and thence to the rich country beyond Ryebury, and the high downs which crowned the cliffs above the sea. All the scene was bright and clear, and there was a beautiful air of freshness and liberty in the whole--the very clouds, as they skimmed over the sky, and raced their dark shadows along the lea, spoke of light freedom, and no one would have enjoyed it more than William Delaware at any other moment; but every thing that is sweet requires the heart to be in tune. The pitch of all his feelings was many a tone too low--the fairer was the scene the greater was the discord it produced with the thoughts of the prisoner, and the whole was "like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh."
"Time," he still thought, "time will clear my fame, and do me justice; and in the mean while, doubtless, I shall die condemned. Still, it is hard enough to feel that one is innocent, and yet to bear the shame and the punishment of the guilty. I wish to Heaven I could speak with Blanche!" Approaching the door, he knocked somewhat sharply, exclaiming, "Mr. Thomson, I much wish that I could speak with my sister for a few minutes! Can you not grant me such a liberty!"
"Quite impossible, captain!" replied the chief constable. "I wish to Heaven I dared! I am sure you know that I would do any thing I could to help you. But this, you see, is no ordinary job; and though I know well enough you are innocent, yet that fellow, Tims, threatened us so, we dare not for our lives."
"Well, I can not help it then!" answered the prisoner, with a sigh. "Do you know whether the coroner is arrived yet!"
"Not yet, sir!" answered the constable, still speaking through the door. "The jury is summoned for five o'clock, I hear."
Captain Delaware looked at his watch. It was just three; and for the long hours that succeeded, he continued in the same frame of mind, torturing himself with all those dreamy miseries that an imaginative and impatient heart calls up constantly to aggravate all the ills of misfortune or disappointment. There is no such terrible tamer of the spirit as solitary confinement; and, ere nightfall, the whole hopes and expectations of William Delaware were completely sunk, and the state of his mind was pure despair.
His dinner, which had been brought in by one of the constables at five, remained untouched; and he listened to every sound, expecting each moment to be called before the coroner; but no summons came. At length, just as night was approaching, he heard a considerable sound of voices in the ante-room; and, starting up, he prepared to go along with the messenger, who, he doubted not, had been dispatched for him; but the sound subsided, and, in a minute after, the constable again entered the room.
"You had better take something, really, captain," said the man, kindly, eyeing the untasted dinner. "There is no use, you know, sir, of letting your heart get down that way."
"I have been expecting to be sent for, every minute," replied the prisoner; "and I can not eat in such a state of anxiety."
"You will not be sent for to-night, captain," replied the constable.
"Has the coroner sat, then?" demanded Captain Delaware.
"Ay, sir!" was the answer.
"And what is the verdict!" cried the accused, fixing his eyes eagerly upon the officer's face.
"Willful murder, sir!" answered the constable, shaking his head.
"Against me?" exclaimed the prisoner.
"Even so!" replied the officer, sadly. "Even so!"
Captain Delaware fell back into his chair, and clasped his hands over his eyes, while the man went on trying to comfort him.
"That is nothing, you know, sir--nothing at all!" he said. "You have had no time, you know, to prove your innocence--you have had no trial yet. Lord bless you, sir, nobody in the town believes you guilty! They all know you too well--and, when it comes to the trial, all will go right, depend upon it. Even the coroner, they tell me, said the case was so doubtful it one, that he would not have you removed to-night. But you had better take something, really."
Captain Delaware signified that it was impossible; and the man, telling him that he would bring him a light in a short time, left him to himself. His thoughts and feelings may perhaps be conceived, but can not be written. Had there lingered a ray of hope in his mind before this announcement reached him, it would now have vanished; but, amidst the agonized feelings which possessed him, if there was one sensation more painful than the rest, it was produced by the thought, that on the morrow he was to be hurried away to the common jail--there, beyond doubt, as he now thought, to await an unjust sentence, and an ignominious death. His ideas were still in the same state of confused bewilderment, when the constable returned with a light, and, setting it down on the table, he said--
"Captain! there's your good old housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, takes on terribly because you will not eat; and she's so pressing to speak with you through the door, to see if she can not get you to take something, that I have promised her she shall, while the other officer is down at his supper. So, do take something, if it be but to please the old lady!"
"Well, well, I will speak to her when she comes!" answered Captain Delaware, in the same desponding tone; and Mr. Thomson withdrew.
In about five minutes after, he heard the step of the other constable depart, and ere long there was a gentle tap at his door.
"Come in!" was the first reply; but instantly remembering his situation, he approached the door, and demanded, "Who is there!"
"It is I, Master William!" answered the voice of the old housekeeper. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! to think of their accusing you of killing a man--you that were always as gentle as a lamb!"
"Do not speak so loud, Mrs. Williams," said the voice of the friendly constable. "I do not want the other man to hear you. He is a stranger in the place, and of course can not feel for the old family as I can."
"Well, well, Mr. Thomson," answered the old lady, "I will speak low. You see that he does not come up-stairs. Oh, dear, Master William!" she proceeded; "good Mr. Thomson here, says you eat nothing at all. Pray, do eat something."
"I can not, indeed, Mrs. Williams," replied the prisoner; "but I shall be better to-morrow, and then I will. It is the first shock, you know, that is the worst. It will wear off in a day or two."
As he spoke, there was a slight noise, as of the key turning round in the lock, which was instantly caught by the quick ears of the constable. "You must not try to go in now, Mrs. Williams," he said; "it is against my strict orders."
"I am not trying to go in," she replied, somewhat crossly. "You would soon pull me out again, if I did. It was only my cap caught against the key, as I was just stooping down to ask if he would have the soup. Master William," she continued, again addressing the prisoner, "are you there?--for I must not speak loud, he says. I have such a nice basin of soup for you, if I could but get you to _take it_."
William Delaware remarked again a slight noise at the keyhole, and thought that the good old lady laid a peculiar emphasis on the words "_take it!_" He replied, however, "Indeed, Mary, I can not take any thing to-night."
"Pray, do!" she said: "Pray, do! It is the best thing for you, by far. Will you really not take it, Master William?"
As she spoke, he perceived the end of a small piece of paper protruded gradually through the keyhole; and it became evident, that the good old housekeeper, standing between the officer and the door, had contrived, without being detected, to insinuate through the aperture some written information from Captain Delaware's family. The prisoner instantly took a step forward, and, laying hold of the little roll, drew it completely through, saying aloud, "Well, well! I will take it, then."
"Ah, that is right!" cried the voice of the good old lady, joyfully. "There is a good boy!--do always what you are bid! I will send the soup up as soon as ever it is warm!"
"Do so, and thank you!" replied the prisoner. "Tell Blanche and my father," he added, "that, as I am innocent, I doubt not my innocence will soon appear; and bid them be of good heart."
The old lady bade God bless him, and went away; and as soon as he had heard the constable seat himself again in the ante-room, he opened the paper he had received, and read the contents.
It began in the handwriting of the old housekeeper, and had probably been written, in the first instance, without consultation with any one else; but below there appeared a few lines from his father, which had evidently been added afterward.
It began:--"Master William, do get away as fast as you can. Don't stop, for God's sake, to let those wicked people have their will. Remember the trap-door under your bed, where you used to play at hide-and-seek when you were little. Master ordered it to be fastened up long ago; but I had only one nail put in, for what was the use, you know. You can easy get the nail out, I am sure; and there shall be a horse waiting for you at the back park-gate at twelve o'clock to-night, and money and all to take you to foreign parts, till the conspiracy Miss Blanche says is against you, can be proved upon them. So, do now, for the love of Heaven!"
Beneath this epistle, his father had written, in a hasty and tremulous hand:--"I sincerely think the above is the best plan you can follow. There is evidently a conspiracy against us; and, as you have been selected for the victim, it is better for you to make your escape while you can, than remain, and risk all that malice, wealth, art, and villainy can do against you. Take the road to ----, where there are always foreign vessels lying. Write to us when you are safe, under cover to Mr.----, the trustee of your poor mother's little property. Fare-you-well, my dear boy, and God bless you.
"S. D."
A new struggle now arose in the breast of the prisoner. The idea of flight had never suggested itself to his mind before; and, though he had in truth lost all hope that his own innocence would prove his safety in the present instance, still the thought of giving additional weight to the charge against himself, by absconding, was painful. Yet his father advised it; and it was more than probable that Sir Sidney had better means of knowing the peculiar dangers of his situation than he had himself. Aware of his own innocence, he felt no doubt that, sooner or later, he should be able to establish it beyond all question, if time were but allowed him. All he had to fear was, that by the rapidity with which such transactions are sometimes carried through, he might be condemned, and even executed, before some of those circumstances which time is sure eventually to disclose, could be discovered to prove him guiltless, and to fix their villainy upon his accusers.
It is wonderful how well the human mind reasons upon its own side of the question, when on the one hand is the prospect of an ignominious death, with but the remote hope of our innocence working a miracle in our favor, and, on the other, are presented the ready means of escape. Every one knows too well, that the law is not one of those lions that invariably lie down at the feet of virtue; and that, had poor Una, with such suspicions against her, met in the desert a law lion instead of a real one, the beast would infallibly have torn her in pieces. All this Captain Delaware knew. He had lost hope that his innocence would serve him; he was strongly urged by those who had the best opportunity of judging of his real situation; the means of escape were at hand, and he determined to make use of them.
Although he had been treated hitherto with great lenity, he knew not how soon an order for searching him might come, and therefore he took means immediately to destroy the paper he had received. This was scarcely accomplished when the constable again appeared with the soup, and, as the door opened and shut, he saw lying on the floor of the ante-room a set of fetters. They were evidently not intended to be put upon his limbs that night, as the officer made no allusion to them; but, had his intention of escaping even wavered, the sight of those badges of ignominy would have determined him from that moment.
"I shall leave you the candle, captain," said the man, "though I believe it is out of rule; and I have a notion that, all things considered, one of us ought to sleep in the room with you; but, as that would not be agreeable to you, I'm sure, we must get the old housekeeper to make us a shake-down in the outer-room."
"I shall not forget your civility, Thomson," said Captain Delaware; "and, as you are quite sure that it is not in my nature to commit such a crime as that with which these fellows charge me, so you may be sure I shall some time have the means of thanking you better, when I have proved my innocence."
"I trust you may, captain--I am sure you may," replied the man, heartily; and, wishing him good-night, he left him.
His resolution being now taken, the means of putting it into execution became the next question. He looked round the room, and examined carefully every closet and drawer, in the hopes of finding some implement wherewith to extract the nail that fastened the trap-door to which the letter referred, and which he well remembered having passed through as a boy, a thousand times ere he went to sea. But his room had been thoroughly searched before he had been confined in it, and neither knife, nor gunscrew, nor tool of any kind, was to be found. "Perhaps I can get it out with my hands," he thought; and, kneeling by his bed, he soon discovered the three boards in the dark oak flooring, that were contrived to play upon a hinge, and thus formed a trap-door. It was close by the bedside, and, opening back against the edge of the bedstead, would have given him exit at once, if he could have found any thing with which to extract the nail, or rather nails; for, notwithstanding Mrs. Williams's assertion, there was apparently one in each of the boards. He gazed upon them for a moment in silence, thinking over every article of furniture that the room contained, in the hope of turning some one to the use he desired--but it was in vain; and at length, taking a dollar from his purse, he slipped it partly between the boards, merely to see whether they were or were not strongly fastened down.
To his great surprise, they moved up easily by the effort he made, as far as the crown-piece could be brought to act as a lever. He immediately applied his hand to keep them in that position, and then, slipping the silver a little farther down, raised them still higher. Another effort enabled him to interpose his fingers between the trap-door and the flooring; and it became evident at once, on a closer examination, that the single nail which had in reality fastened it down, had been lately pushed out--in all probability from below. The hole, which it had left in the beam, was still fresh; and Captain Delaware now perceived that what he had taken for two other nails, were, in fact, merely nail-heads, driven in to make the several boards resemble each other. Gently replacing the trap-door, he returned to the table, and sat down to indite a clear statement of the reasons which induced him to effect his escape without awaiting the event of his trial. Into this he wove the notes he had before written concerning the previous conduct of his accuser, and he boldly declared that he looked upon Lord Ashborough as the instigator, and the lawyer as the agent, in a premeditated scheme to destroy his family. To bear upon this point, he brought all the circumstances within his knowledge, and all the arguments he could make use of; and, after vowing his conviction that nothing but time would establish his innocence, he folded the paper, and addressed it to Dr. Wilton and Mr. Egerton. Before this was concluded, it was near eleven o'clock, and the only light that was allowed him was beginning to burn low. In order, therefore, to take advantage of it while it lasted, he approached the trap, and was about to raise it, when it suddenly occurred to him that, in the letter he had just written, it might seem that he had shifted his ground of defense, since he had avowed in the morning that he believed Henry Beauchamp to have placed the money in his chamber; and, turning back to the table, he sat down to explain that circumstance, and to desire that Beauchamp might be called upon to state whether he had done so or not. Luckily, as it happened, he did so; for the moment after, with scarcely any noise, the door of his room opened, and the head of the other constable, who was a stranger in the town, appeared, looking in as if from some excited suspicion.
"Oh, good night, captain," he said; "I did not know whether you were asleep."
"Not yet," replied Captain Delaware, calmly; "but, as you are not asleep either, I wish you would get me another light, and some sealing-wax, as I want this letter to go early tomorrow to the magistrates."
"It's no use, captain, I am afraid," replied the constable. "Howsomdever, it shall go--but the boy as takes it must be paid, you know."
"There is half a sovereign to pay him with," replied the prisoner; "keep the rest for your own trouble, and get me another light and some sealing-wax.
"Why, every one is a-bed but me, and I was just a-going," replied the man. "But I will see." So saying, he departed, but returned in a few minutes with another light, and a stick of sealing wax; and finding the prisoner still writing, he left him, telling him that he was just going to bed, but if he would push the letter under the door, it should be sent the first thing next morning.
Captain Delaware gladly saw him depart, and ere he had concluded, and sealed his letter, heard unequivocal signs of one at least of his jailors having fallen into a sound sleep. He listened anxiously, again and again, but all was silent in the house, except the dull, hard breathing of the constables, in the ante-room. It was now half-past eleven, and the hour at which the horse was to be at the back park-gate was so near, that it became necessary to execute his design with promptitude; yet there was something painful in it all together, which made him linger a moment or two in his father's house, calling up its host of memories, and evoking from the dim night of time the sweet and mournful spirit of the past.
He felt, however, that it was all in vain--that such thoughts but served to weaken him; and taking up the light, he approached his bedside, and once more raised the trap-door. The little ladder stood ready just as it used to stand in the days of his childhood, and descending slowly, step by step, holding the light in one hand, and supporting the trap-door in the other, he reached the last step but two or three, and then suffered the door to close over his head, The narrow cavity in which he now was, filled the center of one of those internal buttresses, if I may use the term, into the masonry of which one of the back staircases of the old mansion was joisted. It was about six feet square in the inside, and at the first floor beneath his own, afforded a sort of landing-place, on which the ladder rested. Thence, again, a more solid stair of stone wound down to a sort of vault under the terrace, in which was placed the great draw-well that supplied the house with the water principally used by the family.
When the trap-door was closed, William Delaware, who was descending backward, turned to look how many steps intervened between his feet and the ground, when, to his surprise, he found that the last step but one of the ladder, old and rotted by the damp, was broken through the middle, and offered, in the fresh yellow surface of the fracture, incontestable proofs that the way had been trod very lately by some other foot than his own. Over the floor of the landing-place, too, which that thriftless housewife, Neglect, had left covered with a thick coat of dust, might be traced three distinct steps from the mouth of the staircase; and the young fugitive at once saw that the way which had served to introduce the money into his chamber was now before him. That being the case, he felt that if his suspicions in regard to Mr. Tims were true, the outlet might and would probably be watched; and consequently, he determined to examine the whole ground cautiously before he attempted to go out into the park.
Down the stairs, which were likewise covered with dust, he could trace the same alternate step coming up and going down again, but no other footmarks were to be seen, and it was evident that but one person had passed that way for years. The doors, however, which at different parts of the descent had been placed to guard that means of entrance, were now wide open; and, descending to the vault or cellar in which the well was placed, William Delaware put out the light behind a pile of old bottles, that nearly covered the foot of the stairs, and then cautiously approached the door, underneath which a narrow line of pale moonlight was visible.
The door was sometimes padlocked, and it seemed so closely fastened, that the young sailor's heart began to fail him as he approached; but carelessness or the good old housekeeper had left no obstacles there; and, as he drew it slowly toward him, it yielded to his hand without a sound, exposing to his sight, once more, all the fine wild park scenery at the back of the mansion, lighted up by as glorious a moon as ever looked out through the blue sky upon the fair face of the earth. For full five minutes he paused and turned his eyes in every direction, but nothing was to be seen which could cause him the slightest apprehension; and throwing the door wider open, he considered which would be the nearest and best covered way toward the gate at which the horse was to be stationed. At the western angle of the park, a sweep of old trees came within a hundred yards of the house, and thence a path wandered in among some large hawthorns and two or three splendid larches, leading down toward the glen in which the Prior's Well was situated. The gate which he wished to reach, indeed, lay somewhat to the east; but in order to proceed straight thither, he would have been obliged to cross a wide open piece of grassy ground, on which the moon was shedding a light nearly as clear as that of day, and which was commanded by every window in that side of the building.
Gliding along, then, under the terrace, and bending--so that his head might not appear above it, he reached the opposite angle of the building, one of the old octagon towers of which threw out a long shadow, that fell upon the nearest trees, and mingled with the obscurity beneath them. Following this dark track, William Delaware walked quickly on, gained the shelter of the wood, and then, threading the well-known paths with a light step, reached the dim glen which he had trod so lately with Burrel and his sister, and only paused, with the burning thirst of intense agitation, beside the old fountain, where, in the braggadocio spirit of a heart at ease, he had dared them to drink the icy waters of indifference.
"I may drink now myself, indeed!" he thought, as he filled the iron cup; but still he paused in raising it to his lips--gave his heart one moment to dream--conjured up as idle a hope as ever crossed the mind of man, and then tossed the cup back again into the well. And I should like to know, if all the human race were brought, one by one, to the side of a fountain of such virtues as that--without a mortal eye to look on, and arm their vanity against their affections--if there would be one being found in the world so hapless, so hopeless, so without one sweet drop of feeling or of fancy, so destitute of life's ties and the heart's yearnings, as to raise the chilly waters irrevocably to their lips!