CHAPTER XXI.
WOULD HEAVEN TURN AWAY FROM HER WILD APPEAL?
"Oh, Thou to whom my thoughts are known,
Calm, oh, calm these trembling fears;
Oh, turn away the world's cold frown,
And dry these falling tears!
Oh, leave me not alone in grief--
Send this anguished heart relief!
Oh, make my life Thy future care!
Sweet Spirit, hear my prayer--
Ah, hear my prayer!"
Beneath the ruined wing of Castle Ellsworth were mysterious underground
passages and chambers, and in one of these grewsome places Dainty Chase
was held a prisoner, while over her head, in the golden light of the
summer day, the stirring events of the interrupted wedding were in
progress.
While wrapped in the unconsciousness of a drugged sleep the night
previous, the hapless girl had been borne away from her mother's side in
the arms of the person who had so successfully enacted the part of the
monk's ghost, and placed on a couch, where she slept on heavily till the
day was far advanced toward its meridian.
She woke at last in semi-darkness, lighted only by the dim rays of a
sputtering kerosene lamp, whose vile odor made the close air almost
insufferable.
"Mamma!" she murmured, stretching out her arms for the beloved one who
had slumbered by her side all night.
But her yearning arms touched empty air, and she found herself resting
on a hard and narrow mattress, while her eyes, growing accustomed to the
feeble light, showed her the bare stone wall of a narrow chamber like a
dungeon, whose only ventilation came from narrow slits in the heavy
oaken door.
Half-dazed, the girl lay and gazed about her unfamiliar surroundings
until, suddenly overpowered with terror, she shrieked aloud, and
springing up, dashed herself against the hard, unyielding door in the
wild desire of escape.
In vain! The pressure of her light form did not even shake the heavy,
cell-like door that was securely locked on the outside.
She could only sink back upon the narrow cot, while a terrified
realization of the truth forced itself on her bewildered senses.
She was a prisoner in some unknown dungeon, locked away from her beloved
forever.
The spite and malice of her enemies had triumphed at last. They had
parted her from Love before the dawn of her wedding-day. The second
attempt to kidnap her must have succeeded well, for she could remember
nothing of how she had been brought here.
"Ah! I comprehend all now!" she cried, despairingly. "That pitcher of
ice-water last night had somehow a bitter taste. We were drugged--mamma
and I--and I was stolen away in the hope of preventing my marriage to
Love, so that one of my rivals might be forced on him in my stead, lest
he lose his inheritance!"
Then, in spite of her misery, a sweet, mocking laugh dimpled the girl's
lips, as she added, gratefully:
"Oh, what a clever thought it was of Love's, that secret marriage! I
feared I did wrong letting him persuade me into it; but I see now his
presentiments of evil had good ground, and he did wisely in making me
his wife two weeks ago."
She clasped her dimpled hands together in a sort of ecstacy, as she
continued:
"And oh! how happy he has made me, my darling young husband! How full of
bliss our secret honeymoon! Oh, I can never forget while life lasts the
sweetness of our wedded love! But how chagrined Aunt Judith and my cruel
cousins will be when Love tells them the startling truth. I can guess
how they will try to deceive him. They will say to him: 'Dainty has
eloped with Vernon Ashley. He was her lover all the while, though she
made you think he was Ela's. Now that she has deceived you, it is
imperative for you to marry some one else immediately, lest by the terms
of your father's will you lose your grand inheritance!'"
The blue eyes beamed, and the rosy mouth dimpled proudly as Dainty's
thoughts ran on happily.
"They will be fit to die of rage when they hear my darling laugh them to
scorn, and say: 'All your wicked plots to part me from my love are in
vain! I knew you were scheming to do this all along, so I forestalled
you by making her my wife in secret two weeks ago, and the _denouement_
of to-day shows me how wisely I acted. Now you must restore my love to
me, or I will denounce you to the world for your treachery!'"
This was how Dainty pictured it to herself, and in her excitement it
seemed to her that Love would be coming directly to release her from
her confinement, because they could have no interest in keeping them
apart any longer, knowing that they were married now, and that there was
no chance for Olive and Ela to get him away from his wedded wife.
Oh, how impatient she grew, waiting and hoping for him to come! But long
hours of silence and solitude dragged by, till her brave heart began to
fail, and she sobbed, piteously:
"Perhaps they are unrelenting in their hate, and will not tell him where
to find me. They may leave me here to starve and die!"
Already she felt faint from lack of food, and her heart sank hopelessly
from its new dread. She fell on her knees, and prayed to Heaven to have
pity on her sorrow, and send her speedy rescue.
It was indeed a sight to move the pity of Heaven; the innocent,
white-gowned girl kneeling on the cold stone floor of the damp cell,
with her bare feet and naked arms and shoulders, her appealing blue eyes
raised upward, the golden hair streaming like a shining veil about her
slender form, her sweet lips moving in prayer to God. Would He indeed
hear that prayer unmoved, or would He send her relief?
The slow hours dragged away without interruption, and she saw with
terror that her miserable light began to flicker with exhaustion. Soon
the desolation of darkness would be added to loneliness and hunger.