CHAPTER XXVI.

Richard de Ashby mounted the stairs with a slow step, paused at the

first landing-place and grasped his forehead with his extended hand,

then turned upon his steps; and, descending to the kitchen, in which

were seated an immense number of various classes, he beckoned to one of

his servants, who was near the fire-place.

The man started up, and came to him at the door, when his master said,

in a low tone, "You must take your horse as soon as he is fed, and

speed across the country as if for life and death, to bear a letter

from me to the Lord Alured, in Cumberland.--Have every thing ready in

an hour."

"What! to-night, sir?" demanded the servant.

"Ay, to-night, villain!" replied his master; "to-night, I say!--Do you

grumble?" and without waiting for any further answer, he turned, and

once more ascended the stairs.

The inn was a rude old building, having a square court in the centre.

It consisted of two stories above the ground-floor; and two ranges of

open galleries ran round the whole yard, the chambers having no screen

between them and the free air of heaven but the single door by which

one entered or went out of each.

It was to the highest of the galleries that Richard de Ashby now

directed his steps, for arriving late, it had been with difficulty he

had found lodging at all. He had no light with him; but finding his way

by the dim glare of some lanterns in the court, he stopped at the last

chamber on the right hand side: and, after another halt of more than a

minute passed in stern meditation, he threw, open the door and went in.

The room was a large one, forming the corner of the building, and

having windows either way. There was a wide chimney, in which was a

blazing log of wood, lighted to dispel the damp which the chamber might

have contracted by disuse; and gazing at the changing aspect of the

flame, sat fair, but unhappy, Kate Greenly, with her head resting on

her hand, and her eyes full of deep and sorrowful thought.

"Get thee to bed," cried Richard de Ashby, in a rude and angry tone, as

soon as he saw her; "did I not bid thee get to bed before?"

"I have had many things to think of," answered the girl. "I wish thou

hadst left me behind thee, Richard. I love not going so near what was

once my home."

"It was my will," replied he; "that must be enough for thee. Get thee

to bed, I say.--I have to write and think."

Kate took a step away from him, but then looked round, and said, "Tell

me first, Richard, art thou taking me back, wearied of her you used to

love, to the once happy dwelling from which you brought me not six

months ago?--If so, I will not go with you any farther."

"Thou wilt do what I order," he answered, sternly; "I am in no mood

either for squabbling or jesting to-night.--Thou wilt go no farther,

ha! By heaven thou wouldst make me resolve to take thee back by force,

or send thee with a billet like some packet of goods.--But no, I will

not send thee," he added, "I will not take thee; and knowest thou why?

Not that I love thee--not that I care for thee more than for the flower

that was yesterday in my breast, and is now cast away into the dust.

But they have asked me to send thee back--they have ordered me; and

therefore I will not! There is no power on earth shall tear thee from

me; but I will take care to make thee serviceable, too. Get thee to

bed, I say, and importune me no more.--What! send thee back to please

Hugh de Monthermer!"

"He is a noble gentleman," answered Kate, "and in good sooth wished me

well, though I knew it not."

"Thou art a fool!" cried Richard, violently; and, at the same moment,

he took a step forward and struck her a blow on the cheek with his

extended hand, adding, "Get thee to bed, minion, and let me hear thy

tongue no more."

Kate's flashing eyes glared at him as if she could have stabbed him

where he stood; but the instant after she darted towards the bed, cast

herself upon her knees beside it, and, hiding her weeping face upon the

coverings, she murmured forth some rapid and eager words, which her

base seducer neither heard nor cared to hear.

Seating himself by a table on which stood a lamp, he took forth the

materials for writing from some large leathern bags which lay near; but

ere he commenced the letter which he proposed to send, he passed a full

half hour in deep meditation. Once during the time he looked round,

apparently to see if the poor girl he had treated so basely was still

up; but she had retired to bed; and, hearing her breathing deep and

slow, he concluded that, like a child, she had wept herself to sleep.

He then turned himself to meditate again, and we must look into his

bosom, and give the turbulent words which were uttered in his inmost

heart as if they had been spoken aloud.

"Ay," he thought, "if Alured had been here this mischief would not have

occurred. The old fool is in his dotage! I wonder how it happened, when

many a brave, strong man fell at Evesham, ere the battle had raged

half-an-hour, this feeble old wiseacre went through the whole day

unwounded! Had he been killed it might have made a mighty difference to

me, and no great harm to any one."

At that point his thoughts seemed to pause for several minutes,

ruminating on the advantages which might have accrued to himself had

the Earl fallen at Evesham. "And yet," he continued, "this bull-headed

cousin of mine, Alured, were nearly as great a stumbling-block in my

way, even if the old man were removed. He would not be long, if left

alone at the head of the house, ere he wedded some fair and fruitful

lady, to exclude my claims for ever with a whole host of healthy

white-headed children. I was in some hopes, if he sought out Monthermer

in the battle, as he said, our enemy's lance might have proved friendly

to me, and sent my noble cousin to another world. But it was not to be,

and I suppose I must go on the poor dependent all my life.

"No," he continued, after another pause, "no, it shall not be so.--Why

should I fear for drivelling tales of other worlds told by the monks

and priests, and invented by them also?--Were Alured once dead, 'twere

an easy matter to remove that weak old man--and yet, perhaps, it were

better to send him first to his account.--Ha! I see, I see.--If one

could manage it so as to cast suspicion on Monthermer, Alured would

speedily accuse him of the deed; wager of battle must follow, and I

were a fool if I could not contrive it so that Alured's vain strength

should go down before Monthermer's skill and courage."

"In such fields as those," he added, speaking, though in a low,

thoughtful tone, "such men separate not with life.--Methinks the matter

were easily managed.--'Tis no light prize one plays for!--the earldom

of Ashby, the broad lands, the parks, the woods, the fields--ay, and to

crown the whole, the fair hand of Lucy herself; for, her brother and

her father dead, she must needs become my ward, and if my ward, my

wife. It is worth striving for, and by heaven and hell, it shall be

so,--ay, let what will stand in the way,--Could I but breed a quarrel

between this old dotard Earl and the ancient enemy of our house, whom

he is so ready to take to his bosom, I would soon accomplish the rest.

But it shall be done,--it shall be done!" And leaning his dark brow

upon his hands, he revolved the means for carrying his plan into

execution.

For several minutes he hesitated as to whether he should write to his

cousin as he had proposed or not; but then again he thought--"I will

not do it!--his presence would but embarrass me. In some chance

encounter with this Monthermer, with arms and weapons unprepared by me,

he might prove the conqueror, and once having vanquished him, he would

take him to his heart and give him half his fortune--the hand of

Lucy--anything. I know my vain-glorious cousin well! No, no, we will

deal with the father first.--But I must on to Nottingham, and seek the

tools to work with. I will write to Ellerby too, he is ready for any

desperate work, and in his store of knowledge has always information

where to find persons as fearless and as shrewd as himself."

Having thus made up his mind, Richard de Ashby rose, and once more

sought out the kitchen of the inn, taking the lamp with him. Revelry

and merriment were still going on in all quarters of the house, and it

was no unpalatable news to the groom, who was waiting below, ready to

depart, that his master had changed his purpose, and would not send him

as he had proposed, though he had orders to be prepared to set out by

cock-crow. After having given this intimation, the Earl's kinsman

retired to his chamber again, and, sitting down at the table, wrote a

few lines to the man whose unscrupulous assistance he required.

It was not without long pauses of thought, however, that he did so, and

in the end he put his hand to his head, saying, "I am tired." Well

indeed he might be so; for though the body had been still, the mind had

struggled and laboured during the last few hours, with that eager and

painful energy, which communicates afterwards to the corporeal frame

itself no slight portion of the lassitude which follows great

exertions. He next sought to seal the letter he had written, but he

could find neither wax nor silk, and laying it down upon the table

again, he said, aloud, "It must wait till to-morrow; but I must take

care that no one comes in and sees it before I wake, for that were ruin

indeed!"

Thus speaking, he turned to the door of the room and locked it; and

then, after a few minutes more given to thought, he undressed himself,

and, without prayer, lay down to rest.--Without prayer!--he never

prayed: the blessed influence even of an imperfect communion with

Heaven never fell like the summer rain upon his heart, softening and

refreshing. The idea of his dependence upon Providence, or his

responsibility to God, would have been far too painful and cumbersome

to be daily renewed and encouraged by prayer. He was one of the

idolaters; and the god of his heart was himself. His cunning was the

wisdom of his Deity, his passions, his pleasures, his power, its other

attributes; and to the Moloch of self he was ready at any time to

sacrifice all else that the world contained. He rose without asking a

blessing on works that he knew were to be evil, he lay down

supplicating no pardon for the offences of the day.

Ay! reader, and he slept, too, with sound, unbroken, heavy sleep. What

between passions, and pleasures, and schemes, and exertions, his body

and his mind were usually exhausted together; and throughout a long

course of years he had slept each night, as he did now, with a slumber,

deep, dreamless uninterrupted.

The lamp remained unextinguished in the chamber; and for about an hour

all was still, his heavy breathing being the only sound that made

itself heard; except the occasional voices of revellers in other parts

of the house, becoming more and more faint as the night advanced. At

the end of that time, however, a female figure glided from between the

curtains of the bed and approached the table.

Richard de Ashby had left, lying across the letter which he had been

writing, the dagger, with the pommel of which he had prepared to seal

it, and Kate Greenly, with her teeth tight shut, and her brow knit,

took up the weapon, drew it from the sheath, gazed upon the edge, and

felt the sharp point. She then turned her head towards the bed, and

strained her eyes upon it with a wild fierce look.

The moment after, she thrust the blade back into its covering, and

pressed her hand upon her brow, murmuring--"Not now!--No, no, no!--Not

now!--The time may come, however--the time may come, Richard!--But I

will have thee in my power--at all events, I will have thee in my

power! The worm thou treadest on may sting thy heel, oppressor.--Thanks

to the good priest who taught me to read and write!" she continued,

taking up the letter and unfolding it. "Would I had attended to his

other teaching as well;" and bending over the lamp, she read:--

"Come to me post haste, Ellerby,"--so ran the letter--"I have a stag of

ten for you to strike. My mind is made up, and I am resolved to throw

down the screen that keeps me from the sun. If we succeed--and success

is certain--your reward shall be in proportion to the deed: ten

thousand sterlings to begin with. But you must not come alone, you must

bring some three or four men with you, able and willing to perform a

bold act; so make no delay, but quit all vain pastimes and idle

pleasures, and hasten to certain fortune and success.

"Yours, as you shall use diligence,

"R. A."

Kate Greenly read the lines again and again, as if she wished to fix

them indelibly on her mind; then folding up the letter again, she laid

it down upon the table, placed the dagger across it, and remained

musing for several minutes in deep thought.

"No, no," she murmured, at length, "I will not believe it. No; he may

wrong a poor girl like me; he may break his vows, oppress, and trample

on the creature in his power; but murder--the murder of a kinsman?--No,

no!--And yet," she added, "what can the words mean? They are

strange--they are very strange! I will think of it no more--and yet I

must think of it. I wish I had not seen that paper! But having seen it,

I must see more.--I must watch--I must inquire. There shall be nothing

kept from me now.--Murder? It is very horrible.--But I will go to

sleep."

Kate Greenly crept quietly back to bed again; but the reader need not

be told that she found there no repose. Had her heart not been burdened

even with her own sin, the dangerous knowledge she had acquired of the

guilt of others would have been quite sufficient to banish sleep from

her eyes. Hour after hour she lay and thought over the words which she

had read. She strove to find some other meaning for them; but, alas!

she had, more than once before, heard muttered hints and dark longings

for the possessions of others, which directed her mind ever to the same

course, and ever to the same conclusion.

The thought was agonizing to her; for, notwithstanding all her

wrongs--notwithstanding anger and indignation--notwithstanding her

knowledge that he was a villain--notwithstanding her certainty that he

would cast her off whensoever it pleased him--ay, doom her to poverty,

contempt, and disgrace--love for Richard de Ashby yet lingered in the

heart of poor Kate Greenly.

At length, just as the morning was growing grey, her heavy eyelids fell

for a moment; and she was still asleep when her seducer rose and began

his preparations for departure. He discovered not that the letter had

been examined; but making her get up in haste to find some wax and

silk, he sealed the epistle; and, after dispatching it by a messenger,

set out himself for Nottingham, carrying the unhappy girl with him,

followed by only two attendants.