Heiress of Haddon Part 41

There was a sound of footsteps just outside, and they all paused to listen.

"'Tis Edward bringing Manners back," said Sir Thomas quietly. "Here they come."

The tapestry was quickly pushed aside, and the ruddy face of Sir Edward Stanley insinuated itself between, the fringes and the screen, but it was not the face of a contented man, for it wore a disappointed look.

"Bring him in," commanded the baron.

"Nay, I have not caught him yet," he ruefully replied. "Come and help us, he has hidden himself amid the woodsmen's huts."

"You go," said the baron, addressing Sir Thomas. "I will stay with Dorothy"; and without waiting to be bidden a second time Sir Thomas Stanley left his untasted supper on the table and joined in the search for Dorothy's forbidden lover.

Meanwhile, the subject of all this commotion sat innocently gazing at the burning embers, watching the logs as they blazed up and then gradually disappeared into powder to be blown away by the first slight breath of wind. Surely, he reflected, 'tis so with the baron's will; he is in the height of his determined fury now. But soon--and as the door opened, another puff of wind blew away the airy ashes of a once stout log--aye, surely, his opposition will vanish like as that.

"Never a soul came in here, your lords.h.i.+p, for a long time back,"

said Roger, deferentially doffing his cap. "Your lords.h.i.+p must be mistaken."

Manners turned round and beheld, with a feeling akin to dismay, Sir Thomas Stanley and his brother just within the threshold of the door.

"Tut, tut, man," replied the knight, "I say he came in here; he was seen to enter, and no one has pa.s.sed out since then."

Sir Thomas appealed to the others, but they were all unanimous in supporting their master, and replied in one chorus of surprise.

Manners had not been seen for weeks, and not a soul among them had any idea of his whereabouts.

"I suppose no one entered, then?" sneered the knight.

"No," replied Roger complacently, "not for a long time back."

"Did he not come in here?" appealed Sir Thomas to those outside.

"Aye, aye," came the answer, "he did."

"Then where is he?" demanded the knight fiercely.

"Nay, I swear by the Holy Virgin I saw him not," replied the st.u.r.dy forester, in perfect truth, for he had not noticed his arrival.

"Hugh came in last," said Lettice's lover, Will. "Hast thou seen aught of this Manners of late, Hugh?"

Manners' first impulse was to grapple with his pursuers, but he controlled himself, and trusting to the perfection of his disguise to screen him, without a moment's hesitation he boldly answered in the negative.

"Not I," he said, emphatically. "I left my axe just outside, and it looks so like rain that I went to fetch it in, but I saw n.o.body; no, not a soul. Methinks it will rain hard, too, before the morning."

"Tut," interrupted Sir Edward. "Did you hear anybody?"

"No, not even a mouse."

"Then we must search. Out, men, and help us. The man that catches him shall be rewarded well. We must find him; he is hereabouts, for I heard his voice. A murrain on the fellow--all this trouble for a woman's whim."

He glanced suspiciously round the cot, but finding no suspicious tokens he led them out and set them to work to discover him. Few of them, however, were zealous, for Manners had made himself popular among them during his visits to the Hall. Dorothy they adored and they were not at all anxious to bring sorrow upon her to oblige the imperious Stanleys. Besides these considerations, the whole affair was so romantic that it seemed more like an acted ballad than a serious reality while Manners' position appealed to them in such a powerful fas.h.i.+on that they sympathised with him, and had not the search been conducted immediately under the eyes of the two n.o.bles it would have been far more half-hearted than it was. A few, and a few only, were tempted to diligence by the offer of reward, and made a display of alacrity, and amongst the busiest, with a price upon his head, John Manners searched vigilantly for himself.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

NOT YET

You might esteem him A child for his might, Or you may deem him A coward through his flight.

But if she whom love honours Be concealed from the day, Set a thousand guards on her, Love will find out the way.

ANON.

If love cannot sharpen the faculties of mankind; if it cannot quicken the perceptions; if it has not the power to make the deaf hear, the blind see, the lame walk--at least, sufficient for its own success--then, indeed--! But it is possessed of all these virtues, and more. If necessity be the mother of invention, then is love the mother of both; and surely the most ingenious devices and the cleverest productions had been connected with this subtle pa.s.sion.

Divers and many were the plans which Manners devised to meet his beloved Dorothy again, but the success he so richly merited was tardy in coming, and one after another his schemes were frustrated, until success seemed to have receded from his grasp for ever.

Dorothy, in fact, was too carefully watched to permit of her meeting her lover easily, and she was kept too busy at the tapestry frame to allow her much time for writing to him had she been so disposed.

Whenever she went out she was well attended, and for a long time Manners was fain to content himself with an occasional glimpse of her pale face as she rode by, or by sending love-notes and receiving messages back by the kindly aid of the faithful Lettice.

Still he persevered, and was rarely absent from the trysting place at the appointed time, for Dorothy might come on any night, and when she came he was determined she should find him there. But she never came.

Lettice occasionally he met, but even she was suspected and was kept indoors as much as possible, and more often than not he sat his weary vigils out alone.

Good Roger Morton did his utmost to further his friend's design, sending him up as often as possible on missions to the Hall, and he went so frequently both with messages and f.a.ggots, that, seeing him so often, no one suspected that the young woodsman was any other than what he professed to be.

Time flew on: weeks pa.s.sed by. Autumn brought its coldest and chillest weather for the winter to take up and carry forward. The steers were fattening in the stalls, or salting in the troughs, for the Christmas festivities. The capacious larders of Haddon were replenished to the full, ready to withstand the attack of the cooks; large piles of wood lay stacked up in the yard, ready to supply the many fires which were to cook the victuals for the feast; and the servants themselves grew daily more surprised at the constant arrival of fresh stores, and wondered if ever so magnificent a feast had taken place before.

With Dorothy the time pa.s.sed slowly and painfully along. Her position had not improved one whit, and she was wearied of the life of restraint and imprisonment to which she was subjected. Her fingers were sore and ached again with the continual tenter-st.i.tching she had to perform, and her whole nature revolted at the system of espionage which Lady Vernon and Sir Edward Stanley had set upon her. The daily visits of that unfeeling and determined n.o.bleman with whom they would force her into marriage, Edward Stanley, always left her with a sadder heart than she had had before.

With Manners the time flew by quickly. He sorely wanted to see Dorothy again, and as the days rapidly pa.s.sed he recked not of the disappointments of the past, but only thought of the few days which intervened between them and Christmas.

Surely the rumour must be wrong. There would never be two weddings at the Hall this Christmastide. He, at least, would not believe it.

"Nicholas," he said, as he met that worthy at last, "thou wilt only marry one?"

"The baron bids me marry the other as well. I would it were not so, for the maiden cares naught for him. I like not this brother; he is worse than Margaret's betrothed."

"You must help us, then."

"I must do my duty, but if in doing that I can aid thee thou hast but to speak the word."

"But you shall help us, Nicholas."

"Why, how?"

"I will tell thee."

"I am a priest, remember. I cannot do anything unworthy even for a friend like thee; though thou wert my benefactor."