Volume II Part 3 (1/2)
Bertram meantime had for a moment withdrawn his attention from the unpleasant circ.u.mstances of his own situation to the striking features of the scene before him. In the back ground lay Snowdon bending into a vast semicircus, and absorbing into its gigantic shadows the minor hills which lay round its base: all were melted into perfect unity: and from the height of its main range the whole seemed within a quarter of a mile from the spot which he himself occupied. Between this and the abbey lay a level lawn, chequered with moonlight and the mighty shadows of Snowdon. Of the abbey itself many parts appeared in the distance; sullen recesses which were suddenly and partially revealed by the fluctuating glare of the fire; aerial windows through which the sky gleamed in splendour, unless when it was obscured for a moment by the clouds which sailed across; pinnacles and crosses of sublime alt.i.tude in the remote distance; and in the immediate foreground the great gateway of the abbey and the wide circle of armed men carousing about the fire in sitting or rec.u.mbent att.i.tudes.
From this fine natural composition, which he contemplated with a half regret that Merlin did not really make his appearance from some long gallery or gloomy arch-way leading Salvator Rosa by the hand, Bertram was suddenly called off to the conversation around him--which, as the wine began to act, had gradually risen into the high key of violent altercation. A reward of 500_l._ had been offered, as he now collected, for the apprehension of Nicholas; and the dispute turned upon the due appropriation of this sum.
”What the d---l, Sampson! rank or precedency has nothing to do in this case: that's settled, and we are all to share alike.”
”D---- your impudence,” cried Sampson--”Social distinctions in all things: it's as clear as sunlight in October that I, as leader and the man of genius, am to have 300_l._; and you divide the other 200_l._ amongst you.”
”What?” said the Irishman: ”200_l._ amongst eight men?”
”Why, as for you, Kilmary, you get nothing. You stayed behind and wouldn't venture yourself upon the wall.”
”No: Red-hair, you sheer off,” exclaimed all the rest: but Red-hair pro tested against this; and almost screamed with wrath:
”By rights I should have half,” said Kilmary; ”for without me you would never have known who he was.”
”Not a farthing more than according to merit; and then your share will come short.”
Kilmary leaped up and clenched his fist:
”May the great devil swallow----.” But scarce had he uttered a word, when a shot was fired; then a second--a third--a fourth; and a wild shout arose at a little distance of--
”Cut them down!”
Sampson had fallen back wounded: but, full of presence of mind, he called out to the Irishman--”Seize him, Kilmary! seize the prisoner, or he'll escape.”
But Kilmary had been the first to escape himself; some others had followed: two of more resolution were preparing to execute the orders of the constable; when suddenly they were a.s.sailed so fiercely that one tumbled into the fire, and the other rolled over the wounded constable.
An uproar of shouts and curses arose: and in this tumult Bertram found himself seized by two stout fellows who hurried him off, before he had time to recollect himself, into the shades of a neighbouring thicket.
Here, where n.o.body could discover them by the light of the fire, they made a halt and cut the cords that confined the prisoner.
”Take breath for a moment,” said one of his conductors, ”and then away with us through thick and thin, before the bloodhounds rally.”
”Captain Nicholas, shall we give them another round?” said a voice which struck Bertram as one which he had somewhere heard before.
”No, no, Tom,--let us be quiet whilst we are well: we have executed our work in a workmanlike style: another discharge would but serve to point out the course of our flight: for fly we must; a little bird whispered in my ear that they have a rear guard: and it will be well if we all reach our quarters this night in safety: to do which, my lads, our best chance will be to disperse; so good night to you all, and thanks for your able services. Mr. Bertram, I will put you in the way.”
All the rest immediately stole away like shadows amongst the bushes; and Bertram again found himself alone with Edward Nicholas, who now guided him away from the neighbourhood of the abbey by intricate and almost impracticable paths up hill and down--through blind lanes and the shadowy skirts of forests--and once or twice along the pebbly channels of the little mountain brooks. On such ground Bertram often lost his footing; and Nicholas, who kept a-head, was more than once obliged to turn back and lend him his a.s.sistance. It was with no little pleasure therefore that at length he found himself again upon a level path which wound amongst the crags and woodlands--but in so mazy a track that it required little less than an Indian sagacity to hit it.
From this they immerged into a series of ridings cut through the extensive woods of Tre Mawr; and, as they approached the end of one of these alleys, Bertram saw before them a wide heath stretching like a sea under the brilliant light of the wintry moon which had now attained her meridian alt.i.tude.
”Here,” said Nicholas, as they issued upon the heath, ”here we must part: for the road, which I must pursue, would be too difficult for a person unacquainted with the ground.--You, I suppose, admire this bright moon and the deluge of light she sheds: so do not I; and I heartily wish some poet or sonneteer had her in his pocket: for a dark night would have favoured our retreat much better. As it is, we must cross the heath by separate routes. You shall have the easiest. Do you see that black point on the heath? It is a stone of remarkable size and shape. When you reach it, turn to the left; and then, upon coming to the peat-trenches, to the right--until you arrive at a little hill: from the summit of this, and about a mile distant, you will observe some inclosures: there dwells Evan Williams: mention my name, and he will gladly harbour you until the heat of the pursuit is over. I will contrive to communicate with you in a day or two by means of Tom G.o.dber--the young man who spoke to me as we left Ap Gauvon.”
”Ah! by the way, I thought I knew his voice: he is the son then of old Mrs. Gillie G.o.dber from Anglesea?”
”Exactly: and he is a helper in the stables at Walladmor Castle. You may trust him safely; for he is entirely attached to my interests: but now good night; for there is every appearance of snow coming on: it has been threatening for the last twenty-four hours: cold so severe as this is always the harbinger of snow: and, from the appearance of the sky at this moment, I doubt there will be a heavy fall before morning: good night!”
So saying Edward Nicholas struck across the heath, leaving Bertram in some perplexity as to the course he ought to adopt. He was aware that the most favourable step to the establishment of his own innocence would be to disclaim all voluntary partic.i.p.ation in the late rescue by surrendering himself again to the officers of justice. Yet he could not but feel that to retrace his steps to Ap Gauvon was a matter of peril or impossibility under any state of the weather: and at this moment the threatening aspect of the sky, over which a curtain of clouds was gradually drawing, combined with his own weariness and craving for rest to urge him onwards upon the route pointed out by Nicholas. There was no time for long deliberations: the moon was now left in a deep gulph of the heavens, which the thick pall of clouds was hastening every moment to close over: and with some anxiety Bertram started off hastily in the direction of the stone. This he reached without much difficulty; took the right turn; and hoped soon to arrive at the peat-ditch which formed the second point in his _carte du pays_. After walking however for a longer time than seemed requisite for traversing the distance, he began to fear that he had wandered from the track. He turned; grew anxious; diverged a little to the right, and then again to the left, in hopes of coming upon the object he was in search of; then turned again; and finally lost all knowledge of his bearing or the direction in which he had just come, Mounting a little rising ground he beheld the abbey of Ap Gauvon, apparently two miles distant, still reddening with the angry glare of torches--sometimes gleaming over the outer walls, sometimes flas.h.i.+ng from the windows or upper battlements; a proof that the police-officers had not yet renounced all hopes of recovering their prisoner. This spectacle did not tend to restore him to his self-possession: he descended the hill in trepidation: and, on reaching its foot, anxiously considered what it would be best to do. At this moment, the touch of something wet and cold upon his face struck a deadly chill to his heart: he hoped he might be mistaken; but the next instant came a second--a third--a fourth, until the whole air was filled with snow-flakes. Raising his head at this time he beheld the moon, at an immense alt.i.tude above him, shooting down her light through a shaft as it were in the clouds: the slender orifice of the shaft contracted: a sickly mist spread over the disk of the luminary; in a moment after all was gone; and one unbroken canopy of thick dun clouds m.u.f.fled the whole hemisphere.
In this perplexity what was he to do? From the hill, which he had just descended, he remembered to have seen some dark object, apparently about half a mile distant: this might be a hovel or small cottage; and in this direction he determined to run. The snow was now in his back; and the dark spot soon began to swell upon his sight: in five minutes more he came up to it. He felt about for door or window; but could find none: and great was his disappointment when, upon more attentive examination, he perceived that what he had mistaken for a place of shelter was the antique stone gallows which he had pa.s.sed in the afternoon. Under the lee of this old monument of elder days he was seeking out a favourable spot for a temporary shelter from the violence of the storm, when to his sudden horror and astonishment up started a tall female figure and seized him eagerly by the arm. At first she seemed speechless from some strong pa.s.sion, and shaken as if by an ague fit: but, in a few moments she recovered her voice; and with piercing tones, in which, though trembling from agitation, Bertram immediately recognized those of poor Gillie G.o.dber, she exclaimed--
”Ah Gregory! is it you? Are you come at last?--My darling! I have waited for thee--oh how long! Four and twenty years I have wept and watched, and watched and wept.--Oh come with me, my boy--my boy! G.o.d's curse on them that ever took thee away! Turn to me, my son: oh come, come, come, come!”