Red Cap Tales Part 29

But it was not the will of Fate that the name of Osbaldistone should make any figure in that short and inglorious campaign. Thorncliff was killed in a duel with one of his brother officers. The sot Percie died shortly after, according to the manner of his kind. d.i.c.kon broke his neck in spurring a blood mare beyond her paces. Wilfred the fool died fighting at Proud Preston on the day of the Barricades; and his gallantry was no less that he could never remember an hour together for which king he was doing battle.

John also behaved boldly and died of his wounds a few days after in the prison of Newgate, to the despair of old Sir Hildebrand, who did not long survive him. Indeed he willingly laid himself down to die, after having first disinherited Rashleigh as a traitor, and left his much enc.u.mbered estates to his nephew, Frank Osbaldistone.

Mr. Osbaldistone the elder now took an unexpected view of his son's prospects. He had cared nothing for his family in the past--indeed, never since he had been expelled from Osbaldistone Hall to make way for his younger brother. But now he willingly spent his money in taking up the mortgages upon the Osbaldistone estates, and he urged upon Frank the necessity of going down at once to the Hall, lest Rashleigh should get before him in that possession which is nine points of the law.

So to Osbaldistone Hall went Frank once more, his heart not a little sore within him for the good days he had spent in it, and especially because of the thought that he would now find there no madcap Die Vernon to tease and torment him out of his life.

First of all, to make his t.i.tle clear, Frank had been desired to visit the hospitable house of old Justice Inglewood, with whom Sir Hildebrand had deposited his will. As it chanced, it was in that good gentleman's power to give the young man some information which interested him more than the right of possession to many Osbaldistone Halls.

After dinner in the evening Frank and the Justice were sitting together, when all of a sudden Squire Inglewood called upon his companion to pledge a b.u.mper to "dear Die Vernon, the rose of the wilderness, the heath-bell of Cheviot, that blossom transported to an infamous convent!"

"Is not Miss Vernon, then, married?" cried Frank, in great astonishment, "I thought his Excellency--"

"Pooh--pooh! His Excellency and his Lords.h.i.+p are all a humbug now, you know," said the Justice; "mere St. Germains t.i.tles--Earl of Beauchamp and amba.s.sador plenipotentiary from France, when the Duke Regent scarce knew that he lived, I daresay. But you must have seen old Sir Frederick Vernon at the hall, when he played the part of Father Vaughan?"

"Good Heavens," cried Frank, "then Father Vaughan was Miss Vernon's father?"

"To be sure he was," said the Justice, coolly; "there's no use keeping the secret now, for he must be out of the country by this time--otherwise no doubt it would be my duty to apprehend him. Come, off with your b.u.mper to my dear lost Die!"

So Frank fared forth to Osbaldistone Hall, uncertain whether to be glad or sorry at Squire Inglewood's news. Finally he decided to be glad--or at least as glad as he could. For Diana, though equally lost to him, was at least not wedded to any one else.

Syddall, the old butler of Sir Hildebrand, seemed at first very unwilling to admit them, but Frank's persistence, together with Andrew Fairservice's insolence, made a way into the melancholy house. Frank ordered a fire to be lighted in the library. Syddall tried to persuade him to take up his quarters elsewhere, on the plea that the library had not been sat in for a long time, and that the chimney smoked.

To the old man's confusion, however, when they entered the room, a fire was blazing in the grate. He took up the tongs to hide his confusion, muttering, "It is burning clear now, but it smoked woundily in the morning!"

Next Frank ordered Andrew to procure him two stout fellows of the neighbourhood on whom he could rely, who would back the new proprietor, in case of Rashleigh attempting any attack during Frank's stay in the home of his fathers.

Andrew soon returned with a couple of his friends--or, as he described them, "sober, decent men, weel founded in doctrinal points, and, above all, as bold as lions."

Syddall, however, shook his head at sight of them.

"I maybe cannot expect that your Honour should put confidence in what I say, but it is Heaven's truth for all that. Ambrose Wingfield is as honest a man as lives, but if there be a false knave in all the country, it is his brother Lancie. The whole country knows him to be a spy for Clerk Jobson on the poor gentlemen that have been in trouble. But he's a dissenter, and I suppose that's enough nowadays."

The evening darkened down, and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the wood fire in the old library Frank sat on, dreaming dreams in which a certain lady occupied a great place. He chanced to lift his eyes at a sound which seemed like a sigh, and lo! Diana Vernon stood before him. She was resting on the arm of a figure so like the portrait on the wall that involuntarily Frank raised his eyes to the frame to see whether it was not indeed empty.

But the figures were neither painted canvas nor yet such stuff as dreams are made of. Diana Vernon and her father--for it was they--stood before the young man in actual flesh and blood. Frank was so astonished that for a while he could not speak, and it was Sir Frederick who first broke the silence.

"We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone," he said; "we claim the refuge and protection of your roof, till we can pursue a journey where dungeons and death gape for me at every step!"

"Surely you cannot suppose--" Frank found words with great difficulty--"Miss Vernon cannot suppose that I am so ungrateful--that I could betray any one--much less you!"

"I know it," said Sir Frederick, "though I am conferring on you a confidence which I would have been glad to have imposed on any one else.

But my fate, which has chased me through a life of perils, is now pressing me hard, and, indeed, leaving me no alternative."

At this moment the door opened, and the voice of Andrew Fairservice was heard without. "I am bringing in the candles--ye can light them when ye like--'can do' is easy carried about with one!"

Frank had just time to rush to the door and thrust the officious rascal out, shutting the door upon him. Then, remembering the length of his servant's tongue, he made haste to follow him to the hall to prevent his gabbling of what he might have seen. Andrew's voice was loud as Frank opened the door.

"What is the matter with you, you fool?" he demanded; "you stare and look wild as if you had seen a ghost."

"No--no--nothing," stammered Andrew, "only your Honour was pleased to be hasty!"

Frank Osbaldistone immediately dismissed the two men whom Andrew had found for him, giving them a crown-piece to drink his health, and they withdrew, apparently contented and unsuspicious. They certainly could have no further talk with Andrew that night, and it did not seem possible that in the few moments which Andrew had spent in the kitchen before Frank's arrival, he could have had time to utter two words.

But sometimes only two words can do a great deal of harm. On this occasion they cost two lives.

"You now know my secret," said Diana Vernon; "you know how near and dear is the relative who has so long found shelter here. And it will not surprise you, that, knowing such a secret, Rashleigh should rule me with a rod of iron."

But in spite of all that had happened, Sir Frederick was a strict and narrow Catholic, and Frank found him more than ever determined to sacrifice his daughter to the life of the convent.

"She has endured trials," he said, "trials which might have dignified the history of a martyr. She has spent the day in darkness and the night in vigil, and never breathed a syllable of weakness or complaint. In a word, Mr. Osbaldistone, she is a worthy offering to that G.o.d to whom I dedicate her, as all that is left dear or precious to Frederick Vernon!"

Frank felt stunned and bewildered when at last they retired. But he had sufficient forethought to order a bed to be made up for him in the library, and dismissed Syddall and Andrew with orders not to disturb him till seven o'clock in the morning.

That night Frank lay long awake, and was at last dropping over to sleep when he was brought back to consciousness by a tremendous noise at the front door of Osbaldistone Hall. He hastened downstairs only in time to hear Andrew Fairservice bidding Syddall stand aside.

"We hae naething to fear if they come in King George's name," he was saying; "we hae spent baith bluid and gold for him."

In an agony of terror Frank could hear bolt after bolt withdrawn by the officious scoundrel, who continued to boast all the while of his master's loyalty to King George. He flew instantly to Diana's room. She was up and dressed.

"We are familiar with danger," she said with a sad smile. "I have the key of the little garden door. We will escape by it. Only keep them a few moments in play! And dear, dear Frank, again--for the last time, farewell!"

By this time the men were on the stairway, and presently rapping on the library door.

"You robber dogs!" cried Frank, wilfully misunderstanding their purpose; "if you do not instantly quit the house, I will fire a blunderbuss upon you through the door!"

"Fire a fool's bauble," returned Andrew Fairservice; "it's Clerk Jobson with a legal warrant--"

"To search for, take, and apprehend," said the voice of that abominable pettifogger, "the bodies of certain persons in my warrant named, charged of high treason under the 13th of King William, chapter third."

The violence on the door was renewed.

"I am rising, gentlemen," said Frank, trying to gain as much time as possible; "commit no violence--give me leave to look at your warrant, and if it is formal and legal, I shall not oppose it."

"G.o.d save great George our King," cried Andrew Fairservice, "I telled ye that ye would find no Jacobites here!"

At last the door had to be opened, when Clerk Jobson and several a.s.sistants entered. The lawyer showed a warrant for the arrest of Diana Vernon, her father,--and, to his surprise, of Frank himself.

Clerk Jobson, evidently well-informed, went directly to Diana's chamber.

"The hare has stolen away," he said brutally, "but her form is still warm. The greyhounds will have her by the haunches yet."

A scream from the garden announced that he had prophesied too truly. In five minutes more Rashleigh entered the library with Diana and her father, Sir Frederick, as his prisoners.

"The fox," he said, "knew his old earth, but he forgot it could be stopped by a careful huntsman. I had not forgot the garden gate, Sir Frederick--or, if the t.i.tle suits you better, my most n.o.ble Lord Beauchamp!"

"Rashleigh," said Sir Frederick, "thou art a most detestable villain!"